Page 36 of I Love My Mistake
Chapter Twenty-One
Nineteen Minutes Later
They say when you’re on the right track, doors fly open to help you out. I am so ready for this opportunity and I am going to make this Mr. Fleming guy fall in love with my work so hard that he will beg me to use his gallery!
Coming off the subway at 4th street, I strut past Third Rail Coffee. My eyes flit to the sign and I consider going in, but decide to grab some on my way home, instead. I don’t want to walk into the gallery holding coffee. What if he has a no-liquids rule around the art? I am doing nothing, and I mean nothing, to jeopardize my first impression.
“Nicole!”
I whip around, my hair flying. “Jess!” We hug and kiss each other’s cheeks, both cheeks, like Jessica does whenever we run into each other by accident. I wonder if I will ever tell her how much I hate doing this. “What are you doing in Greenwich?”
She holds up her cup. “I stopped for coffee since I woke up early.”
My eyes nearly fall out of my head. “You woke up early? To go to work? Did The Bitch quit… or drop dead?”
Laughing, she says, “No,” and then quickly gets guilty. “Best not to say that, though.”
I shrug because I hate The Bitch.
“Karma?”
“Right.”
I nod and we begin walking to the train stop together because I have to know why the sparkle is back in her eyes! I’m inspecting her closely as she explains, “No, I felt like getting ahead of the game. You know… show up. Get some work done. Impress The Bitch. No big deal.”
Does she really think I can’t see how full of shit she is?
“Who is he?”
“It’s James.”
Say what? “The gay guy?”
She shakes her head. “Turns out he’s not gay.”
Puh-lease. “No one is that handsome and not gay.”
Without missing a beat, Jess rattles off, “Brad Pitt. George Clooney. Matt Bomer.”
Both my hands fly up. “You win!”
We arrive at the subway stairs and when she smiles a naughty smile and says, “I can’t wait to tell you how I know he’s not gay,” I want to jump up and down and shout to the world, she’s back!
“Tell me now! Don’t you dare pull a ‘Jess’ on me!”
She scoots down the stairs raising her coffee like it’s a sword she’ll fight me with. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sings.
“Jess! You will not drop that juicy little morsel, and then walk away!”
“Come with me to work and I’ll tell you.” She’s standing on the staircase as people pass her quickly, narrowly avoiding getting trampled. She looks so fun and happy that I want to cry. Frankly, if I weren’t going to meet this dealer, I would jump on the train and love on every detail she has to share.
“I can’t. I have a meeting with a dealer. Jerk.”
“He’s a jerk?” she asks, pretending innocence.
“You’re a jerk! And I love you. Let’s get together tonight. HEY!” That last part I said to some dick-wad who rams into me as he hurries for the train.
Jessica glares at him. When he rushes past her, she yells after him, “I should’ve tripped you!” then turns to me and says, “Sounds good. I’ll call Amber.”