Watching them is like watching a tennis match where the ball is made of pure affection. I miss that sort of connection, the kind where you don’t always have to explain yourself.
“I have to admit,” I say, cutting through their bickering, “I’m a little terrified. I don’t know much about New York. I’ve never even been on a subway before.”
The bickering stops dead. They both stare at me as if I’ve just confessed I believe the moon is made of cheese.
“Wait—you’ve never been on thesubway?” Cori’s voice is an octave higher.
“Never.”
“Oh, honey.” She exchanges a look with Marcus that sayswe have a live one.“Okay, we’ll teach you. Lesson Number One is about tokens. They’re a dollar twenty-five. Buy them, guard them with your life, and for the love of all that is holy, do not fumble at the turnstile.”
“Don’t load up on a ton at once,” Marcus adds. “Just grab what you need for the day, maybe a little extra in case you lose one. Keep them in your pocket or a little coin purse. You’ll burn through them fast.”
“And there are rules,” Cori says, leaning in closer. “Unspoken New York rules that separate the locals from the tourists.”
I pull out a bar stool, ready for my Master’s in Urban Survival. “Like what? Lay it on me.”
“Okay,” Cori starts counting off on her fingers. “On the platform, stand back from the edge unless you want to end up as tomorrow’s headline. No eye contact unless you’re up for chit-chat, which, trust me, you’re not. When the train pulls in, let people off first or you’ll get shoved around like a pinball. One seat per butt, no spreading out. If it’s packed and you’ve got a bag, put it on your lap or the floor. Not the seat next to you.”
“Move to the middle of the car,” Marcus jumps in. “Don’t hog the doors. And please, for everyone’s sanity, don’t stop at the top of the stairs to check your map. Step aside or get trampled.”
“Learn to master The Sigh,” Cori adds, leaning in. “If someone is being a ‘space-hog’ or playing music too loud, you don’t confront them. You just sigh heavily. It’s the New York way of saying ‘I hate everything you’re doing’ without catching an attitude.”
“The Sigh is a weapon,” Marcus agrees. “Practice it.”
“And walk fast,” Cori says. “Even if you’re lost, just fake it until you make it. Tourists meander and gawk. Don’t be that person blocking the sidewalk. People actually have places to be, and you’ll get cussed out.”
I nod, mentally rehearsing. Walk fast. Don’t stop on the sidewalk. Eyes down. Sigh like a pro. “Okay. I think I can do that.”
“And never eat on the subway,” Marcus says firmly.
“Youcaneat,” Cori counters. “But nothing smelly or messy. Like, no egg salad or drippy ice cream cones.”
“As I said, just don’t eat on the subway,” Marcus repeats, shooting her a look.
“You’re gonna crush it,” Cori grins, giving me a thumbs-up.
Marcus watches me for a second, his scowl returning, but it’s less ‘angry’ and more ‘confused.’ “You’ve reallyneverbeen on a bus? A train? Any sort of public transit?”
“Not really. I had drivers,” I admit, the word feeling heavy and ridiculous in this kitchen, and I mentally kick myself for saying that out loud. So much for a low profile.
“Drivers? Plural?” Marcus echoes, brows shooting up.
“Yeah,” I wince a little.
“Jesus Christ.” He whistles low. “What did you do for work? Run a small country?”
My heart does a nervous tap-dance. “Uh, not me. I lived with my parents and they work in film. My dad directs, my mom used to act. It was just…a perk that came with their jobs.”
Marcus nods slowly, as if a puzzle piece has clicked into place. “Film in L.A. That tracks.”
“Yep.” I silently prayed to God and the universe he wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“Well,” Cori says, jumping up. “Ready to see your Royal Suite?
I nod my head emphatically. “Please.”
She grabs my duffel, and Marcus wordlessly lifts my suitcase. I follow them down the narrow hall, the walls dinged like they’ve seen some fights, posters of bands I vaguely recognize tacked up haphazardly. We pass a bathroom that’s basically another closet with plumbing. There’s a tiny sink, a lace shower curtain that’s seen better days, and a mirror spotted with age.
