New York Girl (formerly known as Maple Street)

Chapter Nine

I stood behind the evil receptionist waiting for her to finish using the coffee machine - pushing back a small strand of hair behind my ear, I tapped my foot impatiently, she was in no rush-her movements were slow and deliberate.

 I glanced up at the notice board to my left, distracting myself from the irritation growing inside me – I spotted some small advertisements that were pinned to the board, such as local businesses advertising their services like yoga classes and bake sales, then something caught my eye, a small card advertising lessons in creative writing.

Unpinning it from the board, I stared down reading the small black writing at the bottom – the lessons took place in lower Manhattan.

Remembering even as a young girl, I wrote short stories in my spare time. Maybe I could become the next Charles Dickens or J.K. Rowling - I thought to myself as I stared down at the contact details.

 Ivy spun around on her heels. 'You can't take that.'

'Sorry?'

'You can't take the business card. You have to write down the information you want, others might be interested in the classes too.'

'I am sorry. I just wanted to..’

'I don’t care.’ She snapped, grabbing the card out of my hand.

'Do you have a problem?’ I asked, feeling a hot rage burn inside me.

'Why would I have a problem? I am in charge of facilities and I’m telling you that you can't just take an advertisement from the board. That hardly signifies a problem now does it?’

'Well forgive me but there’s an aggression in your tone. And I don’t really appreciate the way you are speaking to me. I said, grabbing the card back off her.

‘You can't take that!’

'Go to hell!’

I stormed off and it felt like a hurricane of fire behind me as I marched back to my desk.

My face had turned all the colours of the rainbow and deep inside I felt just about done with working at Trask, throwing the card onto my desk - I sat down with a thud.

Part of me hoped she’d follow me, so we could continue our bitchy brawl but she didn't dare. Instead she left the kitchen meek as a lamb and took the lift to the ground floor.

 Angry tears burned at the corners of my eyes so I covered my face with my hands to hide the expression – the last thing I needed was to make a scene – that would really feed into Rachel’s opinion of me.

After a short while I felt a lot calmer, peering through my separated fingers, I took another look at the business card, bleary eyed I quickly wiped around my eyes with my cardigan sleeve, hoping my mascara had not run.

 And there he was again.

 My nemesis – a bundle of confusion mixed with a bizarre attraction that was adding to the havoc of my working life. Why did he make me feel this way? Don’t get me wrong he was a good looking guy, but there were plenty of good looking guys in the office but why then, was I so mind altered by his presence?

 It’s that stupid Oxytocin hormone - the hormone to affects only women – we are chemically cursed by this awful thing that makes us women more prone to having stronger feelings of love and lust whilst Men get away with only short sharp attractions. I ask you – is that fair? Why can’t it be the other way round? I had to find a cure, but first I had to do all I could to keep hold of my current job.

 So there he was gazing in my direction again, me praying the heavens would open up and grab me, him not looking away despite me not holding the stare for longer than two millimetres of a second.

This time it was more uncomfortable than the others, I’m not sure if it was the quietness of the office or the length of the stare or the fact that the whole situation was just plain weird – I was starting to believe it was me, I was crazy. Maybe he was looking at someone behind me or he really admired the picture that hung from the wall near my desk – it was possible – anything’s possible.

It's so different in the movies, the portrayal of love blossoming. It's all schmaltzy one -liners and tear- jerking declarations of love. But real life is so different. Real life is uncomfortable and sticky. And you almost always look like hell.

A short while later I decided to get some fresh air. There was nobody around as it was lunchtime so I grabbed my handbag and took long strides towards the lift hoping to avoid Ethan.

My clothes were stuck to my skin and I was pretty sure the air conditioning in the office had stopped working.

I thought I had made it.  I was so sure the coast was clear. Until that grainy voice rang inside my ears. 'Enjoy your lunch Lucy.'

At first I was startled but I knew I had to pull myself together and get through the walk of shame - ‘Thanks, you too.’

 Picking up speed, I marched towards the lift and heaved a sigh of relief just to be temporarily away from the dense atmosphere – once inside I pressed the button to the ground floor, my mind replaying what had just happened. First the lingering stare, then the ambiguous ‘enjoy your lunch’, I couldn’t help wondering if the two were connected. In a strange way it confirmed I wasn’t as crazy as I originally thought.

 I was just about to take a left into Starwood greens a cosy coffee shop in the middle of the park when I heard a woman’s voice behind me. I turned around and noticed Rachel walking towards me.

'I am so glad I ran in to you.’ She said. ‘I’m just off to a meeting but I have been meaning to email you. Do you remember the conversation we had the other day?’

'Yes.' I smiled, remembering it all too well.

'You may just get your chance to prove yourself. I need you to take on a really important project for the conversion team. I would do it but I have to fly to France with Simon.'

'Simon?'

'Simon Trask he owns the Company.'

‘Oh Simon, yes, of course.’

'Lucy, I like you. That's why I'm giving you this project. It will do you good getting more involved with the other teams and understand the challenges they face. I will get Ethan to explain the rest to you.'

'Ethan?'

'Yes.’

'But..'

 She gave me that funny look again and I knew I had better watch my step.' You seem worried. Don't you want to take part in the project?'

'Of course I do! I just didn’t think Ethan would need to be involved.’

'Do you have an issue with Ethan?'

'Not at all, I look forward to it.’

'Good, I have to run. I will see you in a few days.’

She rushed off, her silk scarf blowing in the wind.

Walking up to the smiley girl behind the till, I was resigned to the fact that things were probably about to get a whole lot worse. ‘Can I have a cup of coffee to take away? And make it Irish.’