But this was good news. A couple of weeks break, and then when she got back, we could go to Roka’s festival as friends. Which was far better than the enemies we’d started out as.
Back in my hotel room later, I sat on the bed surrounded by my half-packed belongings and let myself think properly about yesterday. What a completely mad, hilarious, and wonderful day it’d been. Capsizing in Central Park, meeting Roka, spending the afternoon on her rooftop talking about dreams and ambitions. And then last night: the bar, the shots, Michelle, and that kiss.
Damn, that kiss.
It had been so easy in that moment, in this city, far from home and real life and all the complications that waited for us back in London. Here, we could be anyone. We could be two women who kissed in queer bars and made pop stars think we were madly in love.
But tomorrow, it would be back to reality and back to work. Hopefully with Roka on board, and with a real chance of saving the company. That kiss had been a moment in time, nothing more. A necessary performance that had got slightly out of hand.
I shook my head and shoved my knickers in my case. There was no point dwelling on it. We’d agreed to pretend it never happened, and that was for the best.
CHAPTER 16
The Lamb and Flag was heaving as it always was on quiz night. Fifty quid for the winning team had a way of drawing people in. Plus, Barney the quizmaster took his job very seriously. The way he handled hecklers and dealt with put-downs with aplomb told me he was also a frustrated comedian.
The first round had been about sport, and he’d kicked out a punter who’d booed when there was a question about women’s football.
“Right then.” Barney’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Round two is all about New York City.”
Amina let out a little squeal and punched my arm. “We’re going to ace this, you were there a few weeks ago.”
I rubbed my arm and frowned. “So long as the questions are about queer bars and lethal shots, we’re golden.”
Barney pushed his round wire glasses up his face. “Question one: What’s the most visited tourist attraction in New York City?”
“Times Square,” I whispered.
“You sure?”
“Either that or the Empire State or Statue of Liberty, but say Times Square. It’s more accessible. No boats or lifts required.”
Amina scribbled down the answer. “Did you go there?”
“Are you mad? Too many tourists.”
“Question two: The High Line in Manhattan was originally what type of infrastructure?”
I leaned into Amina and whispered: “Railway.” I could feel the ghost of that day’s hangover, along with the memory of standing on that very walkway with Eliza, both of us tiptoeing around what happened the night before.
“I like this Poppy who memorised the guidebook.”
I shrugged like it was nothing. “We went to the Highline. It was…” I was stumped for words. “Memorable.”
Amina frowned. “You have a weird look on your face right now. Like there’s something you’re not telling me. The same look you had when you pretended you definitely hadn’t eaten my leftover Thai food last month.”
“I always tell you everything.”
“A blatant lie,” she replied.
“Question three: Which borough of New York is home to the neighbourhood of Bushwick?”
“Brooklyn,” I told her, the question immediately transporting me back to the queer bar andthat kiss.
“Poppy Voss.” Amina pointed her pen at me like a weapon. “You can shake your head all you want, but there is something, and I will get it out of you.”
I stared at my bottle of Heineken, then gave her a smile that made her roll her eyes. Of the next seven questions, we knew five and guessed the other two. When Barney called a break in proceedings, Amina drained her beer and went to the bar.
I got my phone out and stared at the string of messages Eliza had sent me over the past few days. The first lot were work-related: questions about the Roka campaign timeline, feedbackon the latest agencies we were dealing with, updates on the influencers we’d approached and their fees (in my next life, I was coming back as an influencer). But the last few were a masterclass in plausible deniability.
