Текст книги "New Amsterdam: Tess"
Автор книги: Ashley Pullo
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 9 страниц)
“I’ve been a guest at sixty-seven weddings and seventeen engagement parties. It was my own wedding that made me feel unwelcome.”
Chapter Twelve
Waking to the smell of fresh coffee and the heat of the eastern sunlight, Thessaly opens her swollen eyes and moans. Recognizing her phone charging on the side table, and the glorious feeling of soreness between her thighs, Thessaly sits up and searches for Levi. Shielding her sensitive eyes from the blinding sunshine peeking in the window, she tucks the sheet under her arms and scans the loft.
“Morning,” Levi says.
Following the sound of Levi’s voice, Thessaly finds him, slouching in a leather chair, wearing only dark denim jeans and a brilliant smile. He reaches for his coffee mug on a nearby tray table and slowly takes a sip.
“Were you watching me sleep, Levi?” Thessaly scrunches her nose and then grins.
Returning the mug to the table and rising from his chair, Levi replies, “Nah, I was watching you wake up.”
“Come here,” demands Thessaly.
Strutting toward the bed, Levi stops abruptly and crosses his arms.
“What?” Thessaly asks.
“Just thinkin’,” he quips.
“About?”
Sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his arms, Levi says, “I was just thinking how beautiful you look with the golden rays of sunshine pouring through the window, casting an apricot glow upon your heavenly, flexible body.”
Waiting for the punchline, Thessaly rasps, “Oh, please.”
“I’m serious! I was admiring your beauty.”
Relentless, she presses, “And?”
“And . . . thinking about how sweet your pussy tasted last night.” Levi laughs, causing the muscles in his stomach to contract and relax as he adds, “And also the thing about the sunlight.”
While grabbing a pillow to pounce on top of Levi, Thessaly’s phone buzzes on the side table. She tucks the sheet back under her arms and reaches for her phone. Realizing she has a full battery but didn’t bring her own charger, she asks, “Did you charge my phone?”
“Yep.”
“Levi, that’s the most romantic thing ever!”
“Your standards are really low, Tess.”
Glancing at the time on the screen and biting her lip, she answers the call from Seth. “Hey.”
“Tess, you’re not going to believe this,” Seth blabbers in a feminine shrill.
“What happened to your voice?”
“Oh, I didn’t get much sleep . . . know what I’m sayin’?”
In the background, Meg can be heard shouting, “Lies, Tess. All lies.”
“Where are you two?”
“At the shop. Shelby misplaced his wallet in the kitchen so we met him here.”
“Oh shit, is he still there?” Thessaly panics.
“He left for the airport half an hour ago. I thought you knew?”
“Crap! I suck.”
“A little bit. But listen to my incredible news,” Seth demands.
“Tell me.”
“The art director emailed the proofs from the photo shoot and told me to keep as many as we want for our personal use. Tess, I found the perfect image for Wild Honey.”
“That’s good. We can print some things before the launch.”
“Um, you need to understand something.”
“Okay?”
“The image I want to use is not your typical promotional photo – in fact, let me hang up and send it to you.”
“Fine, send it to my email.”
“Bye,” Seth says.
Ending the call, Thessaly quickly texts Shelby.
Tess: I overslept. Do you hate me?
Shelby: Nah, I’m good. And please don’t hate me when you find the stain on your couch from my plate of hot wings. Your laundry detergent has bleach, btw.
Tess: Shelby!
Shelby: Tess!
Tess: That couch is upholstered in velvet. It’s ruined!
Shelby: Flip the cushion. Problem solved.
Tess: Have a safe flight, butthead.
Shelby: Good luck with your launch, sis.
“Everything okay?” asks Levi.
“Yeah, typical sibling drama. Can I use your laptop to check my emails?”
“I don’t have one here, but you can access Gmail on my TV.”
Standing from the bed and grabbing the remote from the dresser, Levi powers on his television and then tosses the remote in her lap.
Palming the remote and laughing, Thessaly asks, “How big is that thing?”
“Nine inches of rock hard steel.”
Thessaly tilts her head and chews the inside of her cheek.
“Oh, you mean the TV? Sixty-inches of ultra HD and a SmartTV.” Levi removes a T-shirt from the dresser drawer and instructs, “This screen displays all the apps.” Pointing to the top row, he adds, “Use the keyboard on the back of the remote to sign in.”
“Amazing! It’s like the Jetsons.”
Levi pulls a heather-blue T-shirt over his head and then takes out his expensive watch from a glass box. “Will you be okay here?” he asks over his shoulder.
Typing the information into the television screen, Thessaly mumbles, “Are you leaving?”
“I have to go to the farm for a meeting.”
Picking up a shirt from the floor, Thessaly dresses and walks toward Levi. “You trust me in your apartment?”
Levi sits on the leather chair and ties his sneakers. “You have my permission to snoop, if that’s what you’re asking.” Standing, he rests his hands on Thessaly’s shoulders and smiles. “Let me think . . . the antibiotic in the bathroom cabinet is from an ear infection, and I keep extra toothbrushes in the drawer for travel – pick your favorite color and give it a home next to mine. I hide my bong in the bottom drawer of my dresser and my passport in the top. You won’t find any embarrassing pictures, but if you come across a photo of a redhead with a fake smile, that’s my ex-girlfriend, Taylor.”
“I think you covered everything.”
Levi kisses Thessaly’s forehead and then says, “There are bagels and coffee in the kitchen. And caramel creamer in the fridge.”
“Can I jump on your bed?” she asks.
“Please,” Levi teases while moving his hands to her ass. “Shit, I have to go. I’ll call you later,” he adds, walking toward the door.
“Bye, Levi,” Thessaly says, plopping on the bed and opening the email from Seth.
When the image attachment opens, Thessaly gasps. “Holy shit!” She grabs her phone and calls Seth.
“You’re on speaker, Tess,” answers Seth.
“Seth, I can’t have my face plastered all over the brand! And Levi? He’s shirtless for God’s sake.”
“I’m a graphic designer, Tess. That image is provocative and sweet – just like the brand.”
“I trust you, but you have to crop it or something.”
Sighing, Seth drones, “I’ll work my magic.”
“Tess, you look smokin’ hot,” Meg interrupts.
Glancing at the number of an incoming call, Thessaly blurts, “Guys, I have to take this call. I’ll stop by later and we’ll work it out.”
She swipes the incoming call and asks, “Hi – everything okay?”
In unison, Bruce and Rosalyn chime, “Congratulations on your engagement!”
Sitting in a cab as she makes her way Downtown, Thessaly combs her wet hair with her fingers and fastens it with a rubber band. No woman likes to walk the crooked line of shame, and Thessaly is no different. So, she took a long, hot shower at Levi’s loft, brushed her teeth, and borrowed one of his black blazers. Fashioning it over her dress and rolling up the sleeves, she hailed a cab a few blocks from his building and headed home.
Arriving at her building, she pays the cab driver and then proceeds inside. To her surprise, she finds Mason sitting on the bench inside her lobby.
“Mason?”
Standing and walking toward her with a confident gait, he says, “Tess.”
“What are you doing here? Let’s go upstairs.”
Dropping to one knee and reaching for her hand, Mason takes a deep breath and pulls her closer. “Thessaly Sinclair, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Thessaly shifts her weight and furrows her brows. “What?”
Mason removes a small, turquoise box from his pocket and pries it open. He pinches the large diamond between his fingers and lifts the ring from the box. “Tess, will you marry me?” Without an answer, Mason attempts to slide the ring on her finger.
Pulling her hand away and frowning, Thessaly replies, “Mason, I can’t marry you.”
Surprised and slightly annoyed, Mason stands from the floor and glares at Thessaly. “Why not? It’s what you’ve wanted for years,” he accuses.
Shrinking in embarrassment, Thessaly whispers, “I did. I wanted to marry you.”
“Then what changed?”
“I changed.”
Running his discerning eyes over her clothing and wet hair, Mason sighs disapprovingly. “I guess you did.” He returns the ring to the box and snaps it shut. Placing the box back in his pocket and gently thumbing her cheek, Mason adds, “Take care, Tess.”
As he walks away, Thessaly calls after him. “Mason?”
Hopeful, he answers, “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
Passively, she replies, “New York.”
With a tiny smile, Mason exhales in defeat before turning to leave the building. Once outside, he puffs his chest and lifts his chin, unaffected by Thessaly’s refusal and determined to find a proper replacement.
Standing on the other side of the glass door, Thessaly watches as Mason turns his head to the left, and then to the right. But before he chooses a direction, Mason ducks his head and shudders his shoulders. Slapping his neck and swatting the air with his elbow, he bends his knees and growls.
Perplexed, Thessaly moves closer to the door to investigate. As she runs her eyes over the back of Mason’s head, a honeybee hovers in front of her face and then flies away. “A bee,” she warns through the door.
Unable to hear her through the thick glass, Mason shoves his hands in his pockets, and strolls toward the northeast corner.
“That was weird,” Thessaly whispers under her breath.
Waiting until Mason is out of sight, she opens the door and starts walking in the direction of the menacing bee. Mason never really liked bees – always complaining that they were aggressive insects that ruined the summer. But Thessaly loves bees, so she follows the invisible trail along Pearl Street in effort to prove her hunch.
Merging onto Water Street, she’s met with a crowd of pedestrians congregating outside a restaurant. Several people whip out their phones and selfie sticks to take pictures, but no one is speaking. In fact, the atmosphere is hauntingly quiet – allowing the low buzz to penetrate through the thick, July humidity.
Excited that she gets to watch the drama unfold, Thessaly squeezes between two men and removes her phone. Taking a picture of nature’s purest form of assimilation, she then sends a text to Levi.
Tess: A swarm descended on a mailbox!
Levi: Where?
Tess: A restaurant on Water
Thessaly glances at the canopy of the restaurant in search of an address and says, “Holy shit!” Her loud exclamation gets the crowd talking as she cackles to herself. She’s walked along Water Street thousands of times, but she’s never noticed the tangerine lettering printed on the gray canopy.
Levi: Which restaurant?
Tess: Wildflower
She sends the text and then backs away from the crowd.
Levi: I’ll be right there.
As Thessaly sends a photo to Meg, a beautiful woman, elegant and poised, taps her arm and smiles.
“What’s with the crowd?” she asks, her voice fluid and soft.
“Oh, there’s a bee swarm covering that mailbox.” Thessaly points with her elbow.
Elevating herself on her tiptoes, the woman peers over the shoulders of the crowd to catch a glimpse of the imprisoned mailbox. Her eyes expand and her mouth parts as she stretches her neck from left to right. “Wow, that’s frightening!” she exclaims.
“It’s fascinating,” Thessaly replies.
“It looks like the mailbox is moving – how many bees are there?”
Glancing at the basketball-size swarm, Thessaly guesses, “Maybe twenty thousand?”
The woman lowers her heels and says, “Just when I thought Downtown couldn’t get more crowded.” Adjusting the belt of her linen jumper, she adds, “Have a nice day.”
Uploading the photo to Instagram, Thessaly replies, “You, too.”
Nodding, the woman squeezes between the cluster of onlookers and continues along the crowded sidewalk. A few blocks away, she approaches a sidewalk patio, framed with galvanized steel flower boxes, and sprinkled with hot-pink patio umbrellas. She removes her Chanel sunglasses and checks her phone, quickly confirming the time and location of her date. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the bridal shower party gushing over presents at the corner table, she strides toward the hostess podium with a defiant smile – because for this former jilted bride, the romantic idea of love is only as real as the story she creates.
“Hello,” the hostess greets.
“Hi. I’m meeting someone for lunch.”
“Your name?”
Clearing her throat and wetting her lips, she replies, “Julia Pierce.”
“Yes, right this way, please.” The hostess leads Julia to a small table inside the empty, air-conditioned restaurant. Standing behind a seated gentleman wearing a pastel dress shirt with the scent of plum blossom aftershave, she taps his shoulder and says, “Sir, your date is here.”
Standing from the table and smiling cockily, he pulls out a chair for Julia and waits for her to sit. “Julia, you’re absolutely stunning.”
Scooting into the table and placing a napkin in her lap, she replies, “That’s really sweet, Paul.”
“Should we order drinks first?” he asks.
Shivering under the air vents and the industrial ceiling fan, Julia hints, “The patio is really nice – maybe we can move outside?”
“Unfortunately, I’m allergic to bees,” Paul snaps.
Coming Soon
Playlist: Tess New Amsterdam Travis Another Story The Head and the Heart Tompkins Square Park Mumford & Sons Love 3X ZZ Ward Let’s be Still The Head and the Heart Barracuda Heart Wild Honey U2 Love is Easy The Mowgli’s Everlong Foo Fighters Wilder Mind Mumford & Sons
Merci Beaucoup!
With gratitude and appreciation, I’d like to acknowledge the following:
Vincent Pullo
Erika Q. Stokes
Molly Van Roekel
Marla Esposito
Nick Fantini
Christina Mock
Jamie Beshears
Les Femmes
The Indie community
Mom & Dad
Luke & Sydney
New York City
Wilder Mind album by Mumford & Sons
Sonic Highways television series documented by Dave Grohl
Humans of New York created and photographed by Brandon Stanton
About the Author
Residing in New York with her husband and two children, Ashley Pullo is an author, an entertainment blogger, and an advocate for television therapy.
Hey y'all!
NYC is an amazing place to find inspiration – the random and the ordinary that make up reality. My writing showcases inspired ideas, as well as my love for dichotomy, authenticity, pop-culture, and humor.
Dreams need chasers.
Facebook www.facebook.com/AshleyPullo
Twitter @ashpullo
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MY AMAZING WEBSITE http://www.ashleypullo.com
Find me at any local Starbucks around 3 p.m.
Other Works by Ashley Pullo
The Album
The Ballad
The Love Letters
