Mistletoe on 34th Street Page 14

  ‘Because he talked to people in the queue, which is weird anyway, and he bought you all lunch for no reason, which is like a rich old dad thing to do. And who’s called Elijah, other than Elijah Wood anyway?’

  I stood up off the bed and brushed the crumbs off me. ‘You’re so odd. But stop sulking just because we can’t do everything on your list, I really want to at least do some of it this afternoon, and I’m all yours tomorrow morning.’

  ‘What if he’d put date rape drugs into your Subway? You shouldn’t just accept food from strange men.’ Jon stood also and I began pushing him towards the door, my hands on his lower back.

  ‘He wasn’t strange, he was very nice.’

  ‘Serial killers are nice when they’re not killing, you know. It’s how they lure you in.’

  ‘Elijah is not a fifty-year-old rapist serial killer; he’s just a nice guy who’s taking me out this evening.’

  ‘Somewhere public?’

  ‘At least to begin with!’ I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘Just be careful, OK?’ he said quietly. I grabbed my handbag and shut the door behind us. He stood close and rested his hand on my upper arm and I looked up at him. Was that sadness on his face?

  I’m fully aware that there’s always been a smidgen of chemistry between Jon and me. But it’s never been any more than a flirty fondness, more ‘lovely’ than love. You know how there’s always someone – whether it’s the boy you used to fancy at school, that person in your office that you always like being near on nights out, the nice barista at your coffee shop who makes you smile when he or she remembers your name. But have I ever thought about it becoming anything more? No, not really. Apart from occasionally when I have rudey dreams about him, but I seriously have rudey dreams about everyone.

  ‘I will be careful,’ I said, kindly, and he thought about this for a moment, with his funny, lips-rolled-in thinking smile.

  ‘All right.’ He snapped out of it. ‘Well, if I only have you for a couple of hours, let’s make the most of it. Let me see … we won’t have time to queue for the ice rink now, but if we stay any longer than tomorrow we will. How about Central Park?’

  Wait – I just remembered that I’d wanted to be alone. But being with Jon was the same, really. In a nice way.

  ‘Central Park sounds great. Is it Christmassy?’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Yes, it’s beautiful at Christmas. Let’s go.’

  I didn’t need to be alone right now, wishing it was the Christmas-future. I needed to be in the Christmas-present.

  A ride on the subway later and we emerged into the frosty afternoon air with Central Park stretching in front of us and the Plaza hotel behind. As we moved from the street and into the park, the ground beneath our feet changed from salty grit to an icing-sugar dusting of snow. The trees were a carbon-grey, pops of colour in the form of neon running-wear on pink-cheeked joggers bobbed up and down along the paths, and dogs of all shapes and sizes bounced about, tangling their leads around their owners.

  I loved it. We started walking and I soaked in the view with every step. ‘I’ve been to Central Park once, I think, but Kim and I literally only had time to grab— Ooo, nuts!’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘This is what we grabbed!’ I pulled Jon towards a man standing next to a small cart. The most glorious smell was wafting from it: caramelised almonds. Or cashews. Or peanuts! The choice was yours. I bought two bags of the almonds and forced one into Jon’s hand. ‘These are amazing, taste them. Just smell them!’

  He crunched into the sugar-coated almond, which was warm and sticky in all the best ways. ‘Well look at that,’ he said, as we walked on through the park, snaffling them down. ‘You just imparted a little New York winter wisdom on me; these are delicious.’

  On we walked, our movie-like soundtrack being a saxophonist who stood under a bridge playing beautiful lazy melodies of Christmas classics.

  ‘I can’t believe this’ – I opened my arms wide, speaking through a mouthful of almonds – ‘is right in the middle of a city like New York. It feels like Hyde Park. Actually, it feels nothing like Hyde Park. New York is so big and busy and epic, and I love that about it, and then Central Park is a slice of countryside. Do you know what I mean? I don’t know if it’s all the paths or the sports fields or the lakes or the little hills but it feels like lots of small parks sewn together.’ I stopped and looked left and right at the scene, all silver, leafless trees and white powder, straight out of a Christmas card.

  ‘I wish I’d thought to get us takeout coffee,’ said Jon. ‘Then we’d be proper New Yorkers right now— Whooooooa!’

  I was just about to chow into the rest of my almonds when we hit a patch of ice and Jon skidded sideways away from me, his arms flailing in the air.

  My nuts dropped (so to speak) and I reached out for him. Before we knew it we were both Charleston-ing in the middle of the path, all kicky-legs and swingy-arms. Eventually we slowed, gripping each other and laughing, and he wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders. We were squeezed together, steadying each other, and it occurred to me we’d never been this close before. It was stronger than a quick hug, or a goodbye kiss on the cheek. We breathed against each other, afraid to move a foot wrongly, but Jon held us both steady, balanced against his warm frame. ‘I’m not letting go.’ He smiled, his face close to mine.

  I chuckled lightly and an unexpected blush crept across my cheeks. I pulled away from him, gathering my nuts and stuffing them and my hands in my pockets, and we continued a long, careful, walk through Central Park together. Like proper New Yorkers.

  My Jon-time sped away from me and before I knew it our Christmas-in-New-York adventure was over. After we left Central Park we zoomed back to Brooklyn on the subway, and said our goodbyes.

  ‘What are you going to do this evening?’ I asked before we departed to our separate rooms.

  ‘I don’t know yet.’ He dawdled. ‘I’ll find something. Do you know what you’re doing with Elijah?’

  I nodded excitedly. ‘I think we’re going up the Empire State Building.’

  ‘Impressive. Very cool. I’m glad you’re making the most of New York.’

  ‘And Christmas. Have you seen it’s lit up all red and green at this time of year?’ I wanted him to know I’d listened to him, that I was trying.

  We went our separate ways, and it was early evening by the time I was waiting below the Empire State Building, staring up at it in awe just like I was Kimmy Schmidt straight out of the bunker. I didn’t spot Elijah jogging over until he was right in front of me, all scruffy-chic and sexy-mexy. He greeted me with a ‘Damn, girl’, which honestly NEVER HAPPENS.

  He stepped back, making a show of appearing to find my poncho, boots and jeans combo the hottest thing since hot sliced bread (aka toast). So I once-overed him and ‘damn, girled’ him back.

  Elijah laughed. ‘I forgot for a second that my best lines wouldn’t work on a girl like you.’

  ‘A girl like me?’

  ‘Sorry, a woman like you.’

  ‘Ha – that’s not what I meant. I want to know what you think I’m like.’

  ‘Smart, honest, a feminist.’

  ‘Well thank you. Feminists still like compliments; we just don’t survive off them. I am interested in your other “lines” though, because “damn girl” can’t be your best.’

  Elijah took my hand and kissed it, in an unexpectedly gentlemanly and romantic gesture, and began to lead me down the street. ‘All in good time, good woman.’

  I looked back at the Empire State Building as we walked away. ‘Are we not going up?’

  ‘Oh, you wanted to go up the Empire State?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I replied.

  ‘Believe me; you do not want to go up there. One week to Christmas and there’ll be tourists queueing up all eighty flights of stairs. No, I’m taking you to dinner nearby. I know this great place, it’s pretty quiet and it serves amazing steaks.’

  ‘Could we go up after dinner?’ I
pressed, disappointment on my face.

  Elijah looked down at me as we walked along. ‘How about we do it tomorrow, if we’re still here?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes please. I want to make the most of Christmas in New York. I do like steak though,’ I added, not wanting to appear ungrateful.

  ‘Then this place will make you fall in love.’

  OK, no bother. I may not make it up the Empire State Building tonight, but I was still in New York, and less than twenty-four hours ago I was wishing to the star atop the Rockefeller Christmas tree that I could have extra time here. And here I was, ready to be open-minded and believe in Christmas, and the Big Apple, and everything it encompassed.

  ‘Tell me about your family,’ I instructed as we weaved down 34th Street.

  ‘All right,’ Elijah said. ‘My mom’s an alcoholic and she left when I was two, and my dad is in prison for second-degree homicide. I raised myself, helped my cocaine-addicted sister through college and became a male stripper at sixteen just to pay for food.’

  Oh. He’s different from the usual boys I meet, and his underdog tale kinda made me want to be his sugar-mama. ‘What kind of food could you buy on a stripper’s salary?’ I asked, as if this was remotely important.

  ‘Pretty much just mac and cheese. Every night, mac and cheese. I think that’s why my sister turned to drugs, just to try and escape that taste of microwave cheese.’

  ‘That’s a … ’ I struggled for what to say. I was ninety per cent sure he was joking. Maybe ninety-three per cent sure. But imagine if I burst out laughing and it killed him, and he never told anyone about his horrifying home life again? ‘That’s one gritty family story.’

  ‘Suits me though, right? As a musician?’

  OK, ninety-six per cent now. ‘Yeah … so, is it all true?’ One thing I was learning about Elijah was that he was hard to figure out.

  ‘Nah,’ he laughed. ‘My folks are divorced, my mom lives over in Connecticut and my dad down south, but I’m an only kid so no cocained sister. I did live off mac and cheese for a long time though.’

  ‘Because of stripping?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone would pay me to take off my clothes.’

  I raised my eyebrows at him, and at that point we arrived at the restaurant, a small Italian place between a hotel and a souvenir store. The frontage was nondescript; nice enough but pretty standard. Huh. I mean it looked cosy, friendly, I certainly wasn’t expecting somewhere all glitz and glamour, but … I glanced down the street where I could see some traditional brownstones the next block over, steps leading both up and down to fairy-light-strewn basement and first floor eateries. They looked so New York.

  Anyway. I shook off those thoughts, cursing Jon for getting in my brain with this ‘you must experience Christmas in New York’ blabber.

  We took a seat by the window, so that was nice. With the yellow cabs whooshing through the darkness like bumblebees, I could remember where we were. Elijah smiled at me, my American Boy, for tonight at least. And when the steak arrived it too was delicious. I ordered the New York strip as a compromise with myself, and a glass of wine later I’d relaxed into the evening.

  ‘I’m really glad I met you,’ he said, all of a sudden as I was mid-chew.

  ‘You are?’

  ‘I could have been stuck between families full of screaming kids in that queue, but I was next to you. And you’re interesting, and funny, and I don’t know a lot of English girls.’

  That was unexpected. ‘You’re interesting and funny too,’ I said, my Englishness struggling to accept the complimentary nature of Americans.

  ‘Full disclosure: I did date an English girl once, just briefly, but you’re not a rebound or a replacement.’

  ‘What happened?’ I asked, being nosy.

  ‘She was just here on vacation, but we hit it off. I was all booked to go visit a couple months later and she stopped answering my messages, or phone calls. I think she might have had another life at home.’

  I studied him for a second … but I was certain this time it wasn’t a joke. He looked quite forlorn. ‘That’s horrible! On behalf of Britain, I apologise.’

  He laughed. ‘Thank you. I’m over it now but she did inspire an album full of break-up songs.’

  ‘Harsh, angry ones?’

  ‘Soppy, “she’s out of my life” ones,’ he corrected me, then laughed again. ‘But don’t worry, I don’t get attached generally unless it’s a mutual feeling, I’m not hinting that I’m going to go bunny boiler-obsessed on you.’

  The more Elijah and I talked, the more I liked him. He felt like a mystery novel – confident, secretive, I was never sure when he was joking or when he was serious, but his charm made me want to turn the pages and dig deeper into his story.

  As dinner drew to a close, he ordered us some whiskeys. I had the feeling he was testing me, assuming I would be a girl who didn’t like whiskey, but would drink it anyway if he told me to.

  ‘Jameson, huh?’ I held my glass up to my face, the ice cube sparkling against the amber liquid.

  ‘It’s the best,’ shrugged Elijah, watching my every move.

  ‘Irish, though?’

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  ‘I like it.’ I drank it, slowly, but in one. ‘But you surprise me, because to me, nothing beats one of your American bourbons. It’s Woodford Reserve Double Oaked for me, any day.’ I signalled the waiter to bring us a couple of those, and luxuriated in Elijah’s dropped jaw. That’s right, honeybunch, the English rose has many layers indeed.

  I turned back to him and he leaned over the table, no messing around, and kissed me right on the lips. The Jameson stung, and his stubble scratched, but I kissed him back, my mouth curled into a smile.

  He broke away and sat back down as the bar staff appeared. My heart was racing, the blood was bounding in my ears and I could feel the whiskey burning in my belly. Lost for words but keeping my poker face in place, I picked up my glass and clinked Elijah’s, before raising it to those recently used lips.

  I was exhausted by the time I unlocked my bedroom door, and so ready to take my bra off. What an evening! It had been a while, believe me, since I’d felt so drawn to someone so quickly. Elijah was fun, and sexy, and new. He was a distraction, who’d be gone before anything could even think about getting serious, but he was here now, and I could still taste his whiskey lips on mine.

  I stepped over the threshold, already reaching up the back of my coat with one hand to unlock the gates of my own personal boob prison, when I stepped onto a piece of paper lying on the carpet.

  It was a note from Jon. I thought of him for a moment. We were OK, weren’t we? I really didn’t want it to be weird between us, because it shouldn’t be – if he met a girl I’d definitely be chuffed to bits for him.

  Hello! I’m not sure when you’ll be getting back in, but do you still fancy meeting up for some bloody good last-minute sightseeing tomorrow? Crap diner coffee is on me? If so, meet me in the lobby at 7.30 am (I know it’s early, but trust me …) J x

  I yawned at the note. Seven thirty a.m.? OK, I could do that. I kicked my legs jive-style until my boots hurled themselves across the room and then climbed into my bed, fully clothed, and with my bra just dangling about under my jumper. I needed to tell a certain someone about Elijah, and so I reached for my phone.

  FaceTime connected after just a couple of rings and there was my Kim, all lit up under fluorescent lights.

  ‘Olivia!’ she cried, her face pink-tinged and make-up free. She was smiling a big smile.

  ‘Hello, hello! How’s Antigua?’

  ‘So good. The weather has been perfect and all-inclusive is the best thing in the world. Do you know you can have pizza and a mojito for breakfast, if you want? I mean I haven’t but you could. OK, I had it one morning. Hang on; shouldn’t you be on a flight? Are you back home already?’

  ‘Nope, still in New York, our flight – all flights – were cancelled so now we’re staying until tomorrow.’

  ‘O
h bugger! Oh well, if you’ve got to be stuck somewhere, New York’s not a bad option. Now you can go to Rockefeller! You have no excuse!’

  I laughed. ‘Been there, done that.’

  ‘You fitted it in?’

  ‘Before I even knew we were staying on longer, I took a photo for you – I’ll send it in a bit. Jon came with me, last night.’

  ‘Ahh, and how is the lovely Jon?’

  ‘He’s OK. Actually you’d be very pleased with him –he says he and New York City are going to force me into loving a proper Christmas by the time we leave. He’s been put up in the same hotel as me, and I’m meeting him in the morning.’

  ‘Now I love him even more! That’s my boy. Be open-minded, OK, Liv? And don’t be tight with the money – live a little. And if you see some mistletoe and wanna just grab Jon – I mean life – by the balls then go for it.’ Her face contorted into a wide-mouthed laugh.

  ‘Where’s Steve?’ I asked, trying to change the subject.

  Kim composed herself, mopping her eyes. ‘He’s snoring off the too-much-free-whisky he drank. He’s dead to the world.’

  ‘Tell him I say hi when he wakes up.’ Then I said, a little shyly, ‘So … you know, I met a rather nice man here in New York.’

  ‘You did WHAT?’ Kim dropped her tablet and for a moment I had a nice view of what appeared to be a hotel bathroom ceiling. Then her face reappeared. ‘Who?’

  ‘His name’s Elijah, and he’s a New Yorker, and he bought everyone Subways at the airport and then he took me out to dinner tonight. We had steak.’

  ‘You had sex?!’

  ‘Steak. But Elijah is really really really sexy, and he’s all-American and all I can think about is sex with him because he is Sex.’

  ‘Ohmygod, you said sex so many times to me just then. I need to know what the fuss is about – can you send me a picture?’

  ‘No, I don’t have one of him yet.’

  ‘Text it over as soon as you do. I need to know if this man who’s getting you all hot under the collar is really worth it, or if this is no different from your weird Paul Hollywood crush. But in the meantime, you should go for it.’