‘Listen to me, you’re an amazing writer. Amanda knows that. Just go in there and do what you got to do. Go get that promotion.’ Eliza squeezes my arm. I start jabbing the call button again. Then Eliza moves her hand to my shoulder and massages it softly.
‘Thank you.’ I groan softly.
I’m impossibly fond of Eliza, who is as confident as I am unsure. We regularly take lunch together. In the air-less city summer months we people watch and enjoy the shade under the honey locust trees on the Great Lawn of Central Park on a blanket with a packed lunch. Eliza spends most of the time pointing out (and waving at!) hot, half-naked guys much to my absolute embarrassment.
‘By the way tension isn’t exactly a fashion statement but girl you literally look like Christmas this morning.’ I open my eyes as Eliza drops her hand, clamps the rolling straw from her green smoothie between her lips.
‘I glance down at my outfit. I’m wearing a tie-detailed linen midi-wrap red skirt, cashmere white round neck sweater, thick black pantyhose and olive suede ankle boots with my green wool coat swinging open, sprinkles of light snow still on it.
‘Ha! I guess I do, didn’t plan that, just grabbed whatever I saw that was clean.’ Trying to relax, I twist my coffee cup facing the minuscule hole towards my lips.
‘Magpie, you’d look good in a garbage bag, girl.’ Eliza laughs loudly. ‘You put the figure in figment of my imagination and don’t get me started on that porcelain skin of yours, I’m onesneeze away from shattering it into a million pieces.’ Eliza rolls her eyes dramatically so all I can see are the whites. She makes me laugh despite my anxiety.
I sip my latte, stare back at the elevator willing it down. The rich smooth taste of the espresso and steamed milk, swirled together with the sweet, buttery flavour of caramel syrup, erupts on my tongue.
‘I’m exhausted. I was up half the night finishing my Guggenheim piece for the February issue. Come on, you know how good you are? That lookbook is a career all of its own! I keep telling you, that is a business you can go online with tomorrow! A personal wedding location planner. Your talent astounds me.’ Eliza smiles warmly and lightly taps my lookbook for emphasis. She is not someone who throws compliments willy-nilly.
‘Thank you,’ I tell her lifting my two fingers, crossing them as more men and women in sharp suits from the various finance floors start to file past us to the Coffee Dock. The elevator finally pings its arrival. The gleaming gold doors part at a leisurely pace and we both step into the empty space.
‘Alright, I need to confess something awkward?’ Eliza is grimacing at me in a weird way that immediately gives me a new knot of tension in my stomach.
‘What is it?’ I look at her quizzically as I press our floor.
‘I have a crush on Ben Laird. Please tell me you are still just good friends?’ Eliza tilts her head, shifts her weight from one foot the other.
Over the last few weeks I’ve been out with Ben, Frederick’s assistant from Acquired Finance, but just as friends.
‘Yes, we’re just friends, there is absolutely no romantic connection there .?.?. well, for me,’ I tell her, ‘but we went to seeTobacco Roadand for a drink after at the Empire and he told me he’s looking for marriage and, as you know, I’m definitely not after that!’ I tell her and curiously narrow my eyes.
‘So, if you’ve no intention of asking him for a sleepover, Magpie, he can borrow the bottom half of my pyjamas!’ Eliza shimmies her shoulders. She has no filter, says exactly what she thinks and I find it inspiring and empowering. ‘I had to tell you. You know me.’ She clasps her index finger and thumb together and pretends to zip her mouth shut.
‘No problem! Go for it. He’s a super sweet guy but yes, most definitely just a friend,’ I assure her, thinking I probably need to talk to him to put things straight.
‘No sparks?’ Eliza questions.
‘I’m not after sparks. I’m not after anything, you know that. I’m the supplier of my own happiness.’ I catch my refection in the backlit elevator mirror and curl a loose strand of hair behind my ear as the elevator shudders and stops.
‘That’s good for me then.’ Eliza’s gaze drops briefly to the floor; I can tell she’s relieved.
The doors part. People pile in.
‘Hold the elevator!’ someone calls out and three men rush in and immediately turn their backs on us. I narrow my eyes at one of them. I lean forward.
It’sthatman.
The running man in the bright burnt orange hat.
That hat is unforgettable. It’s definitely the man from earlier that nearly knocked me off my feet.
Should I reach over and tap his shoulder, so he turns around? Give him a piece of my mind? I should. I want to!
‘Will I?’I think.
‘You can’t,’I answer.
Eliza’s so focused on stabbing the unblended fruit at the end of her smoothie with her straw, she doesn’t catch my reaction.
The two men he’s with are from the sales and acquisition division in Acquired Finance. I recognise their side profiles, as one of them presses their floor button. Ben had only been tellingme at the Empire about how they bought up a chain of boutique motels worth billions. Carefully I elbow Eliza. Slowly I point my finger discreetly to the man’s back, jab it back and forward. Eliza narrows her eyes in confusion. I copy her. Eliza’s brow wrinkles in puzzlement. I shake my head, put a finger to my lip, lean across.
