High Heels in New York Read online

  Marching right up to the abandoned looking house, Angie was no longer thinking about the past. There was only the present Angie, the almost forty has-been who was addicted to numbing her feelings because without them, she would be reminded that she too had a heart.

  Rolling her hand into a fist, Angie knocked three distinctive knocks on the door. It’s supposed to let the drug dealers inside know that she was not an undercover cop. At least, that’s what her regular dealer told her.

  “Who that is?” A male voice yelled from inside the house.

  She didn’t know what to say; Its Angelina Stevens, the movie actress and I need cocaine because I suck as an actress and this shit makes me feel good? “Dwayne sent me,” She finally replied, and stepped to the side of the door just in case he didn’t believe her and got trigger happy. She didn’t want to be in the way of flying bullets.

  The door opened just a crack. It was too dark to see inside. But a gray gloved hand emerged from the inside, palm up. She reached inside her purse, pulled out the five hundred dollars and placed it on the hand. The hand quickly disappeared and the door was slammed shut again. A few minutes pass by and when no one reopens the door, Angie decides to knock again. Her fist barely touches the door when it finally opens again, and just like before, a hand is extended, this time bearing a gift. She grabbed the bag of goodies and ran down the front stairs and inside the safety of the cab.

  Sitting in the back seat, with her heart racing, she feels the cab drivers’ eyes on her.

  “Where to lady?” The cab driver asked. His gaze fixed on hers.

  “34 & Park.”

  He opened the small slot on the partition and stuck his hand through. Angie immediately knew what he wanted. Without hesitating, she took more cash from her purse and chucked it into his hands.

  “You got it,” he said and then stepped on the gas pedal.

  Money talks and bullshit walks, Angie thought. She leaned back into the rough leather of the backseat and closed her eyes. All she wanted was to desperately disappear.

  And just at that moment, her cell phone rang. “Meet me at my place in an hour,” Angie said to Carlos who was too eager to oblige.

  #

  Synonymous with old New York luxury, Angie thought that the Waldorf Astoria was the appropriate place for her and her sister to finally meet. When she called the number that the private investigator had given her, she didn’t know how she was going to introduce herself or how to bring up the news. How do you tell someone they’re not who they think they are without making them feel attacked? And what if her sister already knew and simply just didn’t want to seek Angie out? Angie had so many questions and so many fears. But she decided that never knowing would be worse. So, she called up the number and said, “I have invaluable information that I cannot say over the phone.”

  And now, two hours later, she was a few feet away from meeting her. She was extremely nervous and going over a million scenarios in her head about what would happen when they met in person. Part of her wanted to simply turn around and walk away. But she had never been the type to back down from a difficult situation. She sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. Putting one foot in front of the other, her Louboutin heels tapped on each step leading up to the beautiful mosaic main lobby floor. She crossed the Hotel reservation area and spotted the entrance to Peacock Alley Lounge.

  “What do you want?” Angie asked, furiously as she picked up her ringing cell phone. Carlos had been calling her all day and she was beginning to get very irritated by it.

  “Hi doll face,” Carlos said, sunnily. “I just wanted to tell you that I can’t stop thinking about you. And that I got us two tickets to the Opera tonight.”

  “It’s really sweet of you, really. But I can’t,” Angie pleaded as she stepped off to the side by a fire exit door, where no one could hear or see her.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I knew you probably already had plans it being last minute and all. But, you know, if you realize later that you can squeeze it in, give me a call,” Carlos said. Angie could hear the disappointed in his voice. It almost made her agree to the outing.

  “I’m really sorry. But it’s not a good idea. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I accepted. I wouldn’t want to confuse you,” Angie said. She found herself explaining her reasoning behind only using him for sex, which was something she wasn’t used to doing. Usually, the guy would get the hint if she was the one who stopped calling. But Carlos seemed to be having a difficult time getting it through his head.

  “No problem,” Carlos said, sounding very upset. “Sorry I even asked.

  This was exactly what I was trying to avoid, she thought after he’d hung up. He was a nice guy but she knew that he would expect more of the relationship and she wasn’t ready to commit to him or anyone. She was starting to get angry at herself for even having been with him those few times. He was young and she knew that the young ones always brought problems. Sighing, she walked back towards the restaurant and told herself that she would deal with him later, after he’d calmed down.

  “Good afternoon,” the hostess said, greeting Angie. “Do you have a reservation?”

  “I’m meeting someone,” Angie replied. She then pulled her shades down just a tad on the bridge of the nose and carefully looked around the restaurant. “Um, I see her,” she said and walked through the main dining area, past a couple of empty tables. When she finally reached the table her sister was seated at, she thought that it was perfectly positioned where passerby’s couldn’t see them.

  She sat down, looking her sister dead in her eyes and signaled to the waiter, “We’re going to need a few drinks.”

  #

  After looking through all the documents that Angie had given her, Valerie sat at the table, in shock. There had never been any suspicion in her entire life that she had been adopted. Her parents never treated her any differently. She was raised by a very loving and wonderful couple who were still madly in love when they both passed. “This can’t be possible.”

  “I didn’t believe it myself at first,” Angie said, sipping a vodka tonic. She wasn’t too keen on Valerie being her sister either, especially with what she did to Melissa. But, it was better than being alone.

  “And this is our brother…Brody?” Valerie asked, holding up a photo of a guy with broad shoulders and dimples.

  Angie nodded. On the cab ride to the Waldorf, Angie had finally found the courage to look at the rest of the file. She read everything; where her brother lived, where he worked, even what his favorite foods were. She didn’t expect any less for what it had cost her. When she hired Cohen, she made sure that he was going to provide her with all the little details. And after spending over five thousand dollars, she was satisfied with the results. “I think he gets the hair from my fathers’ side.” She wanted to say our, but it felt strange to her.

  “So, we all have the same mother and father?” Valerie said, shifting in her seat.

  “No.” Angie didn’t have any pleasure in saying this but she had to explain. “Brody and I have the same parents. Um, you have a different father.” Angie watched as Valerie’s expression hardened.

  “Well where is that information?” Valerie asked, shuffling papers around on the table. “I didn’t see anything in here about that?”

  “The investigator wouldn’t give it to me. He said it was because he only gave me information I asked for. I have his number if you want to give him a call. I’m sure he’ll tell you what he wouldn’t tell me.” Angie took Cohens’ business card from her purse and placed it on the table directly in front on Valerie.

  “And how do you know this Cohen guy isn’t lying?” Valerie asked, picking up the card and reading it. “He could’ve made this entire thing up just because of who you are.”

  Angie had also thought of that possibility, which is why she never told Cohen who she was. When she initially spoke to him over the phone she gave him her mothers’ name and told him specifically that she wanted to find her and any living relativ
es of hers. That’s it. And that’s exactly what he gave her. “Trust me, he didn’t know and still doesn’t know who I am,” Angie said, remembering that he didn’t make a fuss about recognizing her when she walked into his office.

  “Well,” Valerie said, looking up at Angie. “I suppose we are going to throw a huge party to celebrate. After all, you’re the first sister that I’ve ever had.

  For once, Angie’s heart smiled.

  8

  Looking out of the cab window, on her way to SPIN, Melissa felt sick to her stomach. Everything reminded her of Jonathan; the Starbucks where they got coffee every morning on their way to work, 508 restaurant & Bar where they could both eat their favorite meals (He liked Sushi and I like Italian) without having to compromise their cravings, even the Walgreens where Jonathan had to run out to at one o’clock in the middle of the night to get her Pepto after a fight she lost with Mexican food. There wasn’t an inch of Manhattan that did not remind her of him. Of them. Of the life they once had together. A life she thought he was happy with. How was she expected to get over him when he was everywhere?

  Literally.

  “Oh my God, turn that off!” Melissa yelled at Christina who was raising the volume on the little television mounted to the back of the cab partition. The television was the new marketing platform New York was using to bombard tourists with information such as which restaurants to try, Broadway shows to attend and other events that needed a boost in sales. It was also designed with a credit card reader on the side so you could charge your cab rides. New Yorkers could tell you that the credit card reader was the best part of the entire gadget.

  “At least they used a good picture of you. You know you don’t photograph well,” Christina said as she pressed the off button on the touch screen.

  “It’s official. All of Manhattan and visitors know my life sucks,” Melissa cried into her hands.

  Christina patted Melissa’s leg. “It could’ve been a whole lot worse.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. It’s exhausting trying to make you feel better and quite honestly I’m running out of good things to tell you,” Christina pouted.

  “Thanks,” Melissa said, turning to look out of the window again. As if on cue, the taxi pulled up to a posh Manhattan high-rise off Fifth Avenue. When she stepped out of the cab she didn’t see the lounge. “Where is it?”

  “Upstairs.”

  Her eyes span the height of the building. “Are you serious?” She asked in amazement. She wasn’t the type of New Yorker that knew where all the happening spots were. She was the basic New Yorker. She knew how and when to take public transportation and where the best places to shop were and of course, where to get the best cupcakes. That’s it. So if there was a hot spot off a lounge atop this building it could’ve fallen on her head and she wouldn’t have noticed.

  Christina nodded. “It’s owned by some guy who was on a sitcom in the eighties. Apparently, he left Hollywood for New York and wound up opening this place.” She paid the taxi and sauntered past the doorman who had been holding the door for them. “I train him three times a week.”

  “When did you become a hot celebrity trainer?” Melissa asked, following closely behind in a pair of black kitten heels and a black wraparound dress.

  “I was always hot!” She winked at Melissa as they walked inside the elevator.

  “Christina?” Melissa turned to face her, “What if someone recognizes me? I don’t think I could take people staring at me the entire night,” Melissa said, taking a deep breath and willing herself not to faint.

  “Stop worrying. By tomorrow it will all be old news,” Christina tried reassuring her but she knew that there hadn’t been any juicy news in Manhattan for a couple of days now. Melissa’s night out tonight would be the last quiet night she was going to have in a long time. The elevator doors opened and they were greeted by a tanned waitress in white short-shorts and a white halter top.

  “Welcome to SPIN,” the waitress said with a huge smile and hands them pink cocktails in a pink sugar dipped martini glass. “Compliments of the house.”

  “Thanks,” Melissa and Christina say in unison. Deep down, Melissa seriously hoped that Christina was right about people not recognizing her. Even though the nightclub was going to be dim and it was probably going to be too crowded for anyone to get a good look at her, she was still scared.

  As they entered the main area of the lounge, Mellissa took a much needed sip of her drink. If you could bottle up spoiled princess, Melissa was certain that it would taste exactly like what she was drinking. Looking around the large open space, Melissa notices that there are white halter wearing cocktail waitresses everywhere. There were blonde ones, brunette ones, red heads, all wearing the same exact outfit and sporting the same hairstyle. It was as if she was in a futuristic version of The Stepford Wives. When Christina and Melissa walked to one of the bars, they were both pleasantly surprised to see a man behind the counter. Yes, he too was wearing white. Shorts though. No halter.

  “Cool huh?” Christina asked, taking a seat.

  “Unreal,” Melissa said, amazed. She took it all in. The place was beautiful. It was a huge lounge with a 1940’s modernistic décor, surrounded by floor to ceiling windows and beveled peach mirrors. There were plush white couches precisely positioned where you could get the best view of the city and everywhere you looked there was something shiny. “It reminds me of Angie’s closet.”

  “Wait until you see the bathroom,” Christina said laughing.

  It was only eleven o’clock and the place already had a good crowd. People were quickly gathering in little groups. Living, partying and simply breathing in Manhattan was like being in a high school cafeteria. You didn’t want to find yourself sitting at the wrong table.

  “Oh wow. Is that…?” Melissa asked Christina.

  Christina turned to look in the direction Melissa was pointing. “Yes, but stop that,” she said, pulling her hand down. “You don’t want to look like a fan.”

  “Sorry,” Melissa said, “I thought he was in jail?”

  “He got out yesterday due to overcrowding.”

  “Oh.” Unlike Christina, who was on the verge of an obsession with all things Hollywood, Melissa wasn’t up to date with all the celebrity gossip and happenings. She could however, tell you what shoes Katie Holmes wore the night of the Oscars but she couldn’t tell you who she thanked and what movie she received the award for. Everyone has their priorities.

  “Yummy. I think I found my next ex-boyfriend,” Christina said licking her lips as a cute guy walked past them. Besides looking shy of twenty-one, the guy was looking good in a dark blue dress shirt, open at the throat and black slacks.

  “Doesn’t he look a bit too young?” Melissa asked, concerned.

  “Darling, if you want to quench your thirst you have to drink from the fountain of youth,” she said smiling. “I can see myself constantly being naked around him.”

  “The only thing constant about someone that young is change,” Melissa said.

  “Oh, he doesn’t look that young.”

  “Not for a school girl. For you, yes!”

  “Mmm, I’ll act like a school girl or any other type of girl for a piece of that!” Christina said before turning to Melissa. “I’m going to say hello. You ok here?”

  “Sure go ahead,” Melissa said. She didn’t mind waiting for her at the bar. Not with all the famous people walking around. Being here definitely took her fascination for people watching to a whole other level. She was having so much fun that she wasn’t even thinking about Jonathan. And for once, it felt good not to worry about anything even if it was for a little while.

  Taking the last sip of her drink she was saddened when she finished it so quickly. She placed the martini glass on the bar and just as quickly another drink appeared.

  “I didn’t order that,” she told the bartender.

  “He did,” the bartender said, signaling to a hot looking guy at the other end of the bar
with sandy brown hair and a killer smile.

  She didn’t know what to do. Should she accept the drink? Or should she kindly say ‘Thanks but no thanks’? She really wasn’t in the mood for conversation even if this guy was super-hot. She came here to just chill and forget her problems. However, he was still standing at the end of the bar, smiling at her. So, she accepted the drink and mouthed the words ‘thank you.’ Expecting him to see this as his golden opportunity to walk over and begin hitting on her, Melissa waited at the bar. But soon after, he was gone.

  “Excuse me,” Melissa said to the bartender who was in the middle of fixing two more pink drinks. ”What is this drink called anyway?”

  “A flirtini.”

  Of course it is, she thought.

  Leaning against the bar, she looked around the lounge and tried to spot Christina. She knew she would return with no less than the guys’ phone number, penis size and social security number. Obsession was her number one characteristic.

  “You’re babysitting your drink,” Christina said when she returned.

  “Actually it’s a gift from a real hot guy.”

  “Where?” She asked, looking around the lounge.

  “I don’t know. He just bought me the drink and then he was gone,” Melissa said.

  “So what happened after he tried getting you drunk?”

  “He didn’t try to get me drunk. It was one drink.”

  Christina looked confused. “You mean, he didn’t try to get your number?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t try getting his?”

  “No.”

  “Girl, I have no idea why you came out tonight.”

  “Seriously?” Melissa said in disbelief. It had been Christina’s idea to come out tonight, not hers. If Melissa would have had it her way, she would be right under those comfortable covers, crying and sleeping.

  “All I’m saying is that he could’ve been the one.”

  “The one what? Asshole? I’ve had enough of those. I just came here to let loose and not think about men,” Melissa said before changing the conversation, “So, how old was he anyway?”