Year of the Chick (book 1 in the "Year of the Chick" series)

Chapter Twenty-Three

I removed my bulky wool coat and draped it over my arm, as I found myself again in the aisles of erotic literature.

I’d told James he could call me at quarter past twelve, and this time I didn’t have to pace back and forth in endless wait; my phone started ringing right on time.

“Hello?” I said, sounding rather meek.

“How are you Roms?”

Still with the nickname! I really hate this guy. Is he even allowed to call me that anymore?

I switched the phone from hand to hand, trying to dry my sweaty palms on my pants.

I’m fine thanks,” I said. “And what about yourself?”

This feels awkward. And forced. And as if I care what he’s been doing the last couple months?

“I’m well thank you, though perhaps a little stressed about the trip to L.A. next week.”

“That sounds cool.”

But it’s not Toronto, you olive-eating English idiot.

“Is this related to the script?” I added. “And congrats again by the way.” Even though his casual air annoyed me, I smiled when I mentioned his script.

“Thank you,” he said. “And yes it has to do with the script. It came up very suddenly though. I’m struggling to wrap things up before I leave.”

“Sounds stressful…”

Why am I in this phone call again? I should be texting Arjun!

“Stressful yes, but also exciting.” He cleared his throat before continuing. Damn, even THAT sounds hot in his accent. “So tell me, what have I missed?”

“There’s only one big item you missed,” I said. “My sister is engaged.”

“Wow, well there you go, there’s one for the books.”

“And here’s the best part: he’s a perfectly acceptable Indian guy, and my parents are in love with him. She’ll be married in nine months.”

“That’s quite a whirlwind, I must say.”

Being in the spotlight was building my sense of comfort. Maybe I’ll just roll with it.

I turned the corner of the section “G to N,” walking and talking at a quicker pace. “It’s a hell of a change. And since my parents are totally consumed with my sister’s wedding, the thought of ‘arranging’ me is suddenly low on the list. Can you believe it?”

“Sounds like there is hope for you yet, if you ask me.” His voice had that same rich warmth I remembered.

I laughed. “Yes there is, if only for a little while! It’s just so funny, how they start to act all needy once they know one of us is leaving.”

“Entirely unexpected of course…” he said, his voice trailing off.

The silence suddenly shook me into reality. This isn’t right.

“James, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you call me?” I traced my fingers along a row of erotic titles.

“It was time to catch up again,” he said.

Oh, sure. “And we couldn’t do that over e-mail?”

“Yes of course we could have, but I am so busy preparing for my U.S. trip next week that it was easier to call. Besides, what easier way is there to find out what the weather is like on the East Coast? That way I’ll know what to take with me.”

“East Coast? Huh?” I massaged my forehead, in a mixture of confusion and frustration. “No wait, stop, this is too much now. I mean first I don’t hear from you in like…forever, and here you are calling me to talk about, well, I don’t know. What are you talking about James?”

Or was it me who was on crack? It didn’t matter anymore, I wasn’t done.

“I mean who are you James Caldwell? You walk into my life like a lost James Bond and then just like that,” I snapped my fingers for effect, “you’re gone. Godammit people just don’t do that to me!”

It was suddenly very quiet on his side of the phone. Finally he spoke.

“Look,” he started, but I interrupted him quickly, with the anger now vented and my brain simply hyper like usual.

“Explain this East Coast thing to me. I thought you said you’re going to L.A.”

“Well yes, but on the way back, I am flying through New York City. I will be there for a day and a night.”

I leaned against the bookshelf and almost knocked it over.

New York? Hmm…

“Only a day? But you won’t see much of New York in just one day.” Wait, why am I even saying this? Last time I checked I wasn’t a New Yorker.

“Trust me I would love to stay longer. It’s just I need to get back to England, take care of the parents and decorate the house and all that.”

How cute was that? Oh crap, unplanned melting in effect.

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you. So what’s your plan for a day in New York?” I asked, suddenly wishing that I lived in New Jersey or Connecticut, if not in an apartment on the Upper West Side…god, why can I never be mad at this guy? Well not for long anyway.

“Actually I don’t really have a plan. Except perhaps potter about, doing some Christmas shopping or similar.”

Just then a book called “Export to Ecstasy” caught my eye. The woman on the cover was bursting with boobs, but the faded-out background indicated an airport.

“Hey James…” I said, with the wheels in my brain turning fast. “What if I flew to New York for the day?”

I had no idea what I was doing, except for following James’s rule of taking charge of my life, which in this case simply meant living free within the phone call. Reality was gone, and I was blissful in this pleasant hallucination. I must have Malaria.

His end of the line was silent for longer than I’d hoped, which made my heart gurgle up ‘til it was stuck in my throat. What if he doesn’t want to meet you? You presumptuous dumbass!

“Sure, why not? If you can spare the time…can you spare the time?”

Are you kidding? Just tell me when to stop the clock!

“Of course I can! I mean it’s only a day right?”

Yes, it’s easy and normal so I’m not being too enthusiastic.

“And your parents?”

“I’m living in the moment okay?” I laughed, now comfortably back in my delirium. “Let me figure that out once this phone call is over.”

“Good, you do that. I need to head out for dinner.”

For once his departure was more than fine. I had some thinking to do.

I put my coat back on and slipped my phone into the pocket, pausing to take the biggest breath of my life.

So what am I doing exactly?

My grip on reality was still far away, which was likely the reason for what I did next. It all happened fast in one fluid motion, and before I knew it I was standing in the bookstore queue, with a copy of “Export to Ecstasy” in hand. On any other day I wouldn’t have dared make a purchase like that. But on this very different day, I felt fully relaxed when I placed the steamy novel on the counter.

I hadn’t figured out what I would do with it, but I knew that if I wound up in New York, this book was in some way responsible. And if I can’t thank the author in person, I might as well give her a sale.

On the walk back to work I was barely aware of the snowflakes blinding my view. Instead I was consumed by flight schedules, my parents, a Christmas gala, and that guy named Arjun...