New York Girl (formerly known as Maple Street)

Chapter Two

After several long weeks of searching I finally landed a one bedroom apartment just off Times Square. It wasn’t particularly stylish as you would imagine but it was home for now. I spent most evenings alone eating noodles for one out of a red carton from ‘Chinkz’ – a food stand not too far from the subway.

'Lucy, are you sure you have enough money?’

'Mom, I’ve told you, I am fine. I still have some in my savings left in my account.'

'For goodness sake just come home! At least for a little while until you sort yourself out. I saw Alex's mother the other day and she said he is inconsolable.'

'I told you I don't want to talk about it.'

'You can't avoid the subject forever!'

'Hello Mom, you there? I can’t hear you.’

‘I’m still here honey. Can you hear me?’

‘The phone’s playing up again, I’ll call you tomorrow.’

Hanging up the receiver only brought on more guilt – it was weird being so far from home, but in a good way. It was as if what had happened only a few weeks before was static and fuzzy, non – existent. 

Don’t get me wrong – I loved hearing Mom’s voice – much more than I let on. The soothing voice from home was a god send – it was much better than being crammed into a small apartment with hardly no- one to talk to all day. I was yet to venture out of the four walls and make some new friends. But with limited cash and not a whiff of employment my first weeks in New York were worryingly bleak.

My stomach growled the sound bouncing against the thin grey walls when I was startled by a loud knock on the door.

Excited by the prospect that I may not have to spend yet another evening alone I crept towards the door and peered through the peep hole. Yep – I was officially a recluse – a big soon to be hairy and overweight recluse.

'Who is it?'

'It’s Jonathan. I.. I live next door.’

'Can I help you?'

'I just want to say Hi. I see that you have just moved in. I guess I can come back later if you’re busy?’

Twisting the key inside the lock, I was more than a little taken back when I discovered Jonathan was to die for!

From my estimation he must have been about five - nine in height, dimples on the bottom left of his jawline and mysterious dark brown eyes.

Casting a look down at my shabby pants and stained vest top, I did my best to hide the big yellow dollop of three day old mustard, courtesy of - Byron’s burger. How was I to know that New York not only served the best burgers on the planet –but apparently it also delivered Henry Cavil’s twin brother right to your door!

London– 0. New York -1.

'It's good to meet you Ms?'

‘Frizzell.’

He smiled an unbelievably cute smile.  'I mean your first name.'

 ‘Lucy, I’m Lucy.’ I said stretching out a sweaty palm. ‘Sorry about the formality – I’ve just moved here from England , you must know how we Brits roll.’

'Nice name, It's a pretty girl's name. '

'Thanks.’ 

'So anyway, I am having a few birthday drinks for a friend on Saturday and I was wondering if you fancy popping in? It will be just a few of us having a get together at mine.'

'That would be really nice.'

'Great! So, I'll see you about eight thirty?'

Hugging the side of the door I flashed my best smile, in order to distract the attention away from my multi-coloured mustard top. ‘I look forward to it.’

He grinned too, stepping back from the door. ‘See you then, Lucy.’

Admittedly I did feel a twinge of excitement until I remembered who I was and what I had done – was it completely off the hook heartless to feel attraction towards another man so quickly? My stomach roared thunderously.

 I was a bad person. 

 There were only two packets of noodles left and my hands shook as I tore the packet open and emptied the noodles into a pan of cold water.

 I was never all that great in the kitchen. Alex did most of the cooking, in fact he did most of everything, he was unusually domesticated for a guy and he made no secret of it. He was such a goody two shoes, great cook, great conversationalist, perfection personified and not to mention a Hedge fund hero.

The pot started to boil over so I quickly turned the knob and set the pot on the counter. Laughing at the irony that hedge rhymed with ledge. Poor Alex, all the guys at work will tease him.  But it wasn’t too long before my smile evaporated and I felt a burning sensation on my left hand.

‘Ouuuchh!’ I screamed, dropping the pan onto the floor; Noodles everywhere.

 Running my hand under the cold water, I blew as much cold air onto it as possible – stupid Alex, stupid me, stupid karma!

Mom was right. Maybe I should just go home and face my demons. I could get used to the funny looks from people in time. After all, I had just dropped my second to last meal all over the floor and my savings were dwindling. All those jobs I had applied to and still nothing.

The phone rang and I knew it was time to tell Mom that I’ll be headed home. She was right – After all, Mom’s always know best.

'Hi, Mom.' 

'Ms Frizzell?'

Pressing the phone closer to my ear, I concentrated on the deep voice at the other end. ‘Speaking, who’s this?’

'It's Simon Trask, from Trask International. You had an interview with us last Wednesday.'

Clearing my throat, I quickly put on my best professional voice. ‘Hello, Mr Trask.’

'We’ve had many people interview for this role and as you can imagine it’s taken us a while to make a decision.’

My heart started to thud as I prepared myself for yet another disappointment.

'We are very selective about the kind of people we have work for us Lucy. It's difficult, selecting the right candidate.' He continued.

'I understand.’

'And that's why we would like to offer you the position of marketing consultant.'

‘I've got the job? That's great. You won't be disappointed Mr Trask!'

‘I’ll see you on Monday, Ms Frizzell.'

During a mad bout of unreturned high fives and air punches - I wondered who to tell the good news to first, Fozoli or Mom. Flicking through my clothing rail I found a little black number I brought with me from home, the best Cavalli suit in all of Selfridges.

Bringing it up to my chest, I posed at the long length mirror, wrapping my hair up into a walnut whip.  ‘Hello. My name is Ms. Lucy Frizzell, I’m from England. And you had better watch out because I’m going to take over the world.'