Chapter 2
Danielle
The drive to New York City seemed to take forever, and not even because Jacob insisted on driving the speed limit the whole time. It’s just that driving from Vermont to Brooklyn in a creaky old van, overstuffed with luggage, is a really, really long drive.
It was really nice for Jacob to take me. There was no real reason for me to have a car in New York City (or so people told me. I found it hard to imagine living anywhere without a car) so he would be inheriting the family “shit-mobile”, as my brothers affectionately called it. I knew they didn’t mean anything by it. Hell, they wouldn’t have been able to get to half their hockey practices without the damn thing.
However, even though the ride was long, and even though the car was cramped, we went out of our way to drive through Manhattan itself. Jacob had never seen it, and I had only seen it once, on a drunken college trip the year before. It was fun for me to show off my (limited) knowledge to Jacob, and grin at his wonder.
“I can’t believe you’re moving here, sis,” he said. “It’s amazing.”
“I know!” I agreed. “It’s crazy! But I’m not exactly going to find my dream job in Vermont, am I?”
We chuckled. After our mother had died and our father was laid off, we knew exactly how hard it was to get a good job in our shabby little town, let alone a dream job. There was another reason to be grateful to Jacob: now that he was old enough, he could start working full-time to feed our younger brothers. I was finally able to break free!
Well, free-ish. There was still money and jobs and crap like that to worry about.
Fortunately, a good friend of mine from school lived in Brooklyn, and she’d been looking for a roommate. Of course I leapt at the chance. She was waiting for us right outside the apartment complex as we pulled up, looking happy and yet somehow annoyed at the same time.
“Veronica!” I exclaimed, rushing over to give her a hug. She felt stiff and tiny in my arms – not at all like the massive, half-wrestling bear hugs my brothers would give me.
“Danielle!” She chirped back. “You’re late! What took you so long?”
“Aw, well, we wanted to see the sights,” Jacob said. Already, he was out and behind the car, ready to unload.
“It’s number two forty one,” Veronica stated, and then tossed him the keys before turning back to me. Jacob frowned.
“Don’t worry, we’ll help in a sec!” I promised. Then, to Veronica, “So, how are you?”
“Good, good. Been busy, but you know how things are.”
“Definitely!” I exclaimed. “You look great! Still doing the interval training? I know how much you were into that in college.”
She made a face as if she’d just tasted something unpleasant.
“Eh, it’s too expensive in the city,” she complained. “I see you haven’t stopped though. You’re looking very…buff. Sure you want to work out that much?”
I frowned. In Vermont, my strong, suntanned shoulders were usually considered a good thing. Suddenly, I grew very worried that maybe, in New York City, people preferred little waifs like Veronica. I hunched my shoulders, trying to make myself look smaller, and muttered, “Oh, I don’t know. It’s fun, sometimes.”
“Well, at least you’ll be great on unpacking all those boxes!” She exclaimed, clapping me on the shoulder. “Come on, before that hulking brother of yours murders us…”
Jacob was, in fact, not angry at all, and helped me unload the whole car in one go. Even Veronica helped with a box or two. She and Jacob spoke little. I guess a city socialite and a Vermont farming kid don’t have much in common. As we worked, I brainstormed ways to make sure that I, at least, didn’t stick out as so much of an outsider here in New York.
We finished unpacking, and, after planting a big kiss on his cheek, Jacob headed home, leaving Veronica and me alone with a whole city of opportunities before us.
“So, what now?” I asked her, rocking back and forth on my heels in excitement. I noticed her staring and quickly stopped.
“First,” she said, “let’s see if you actually have something to wear.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I’ve got a whole wardrobe. You just saw me move all those boxes…”
“No, I mean something to wear in the city,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Uh, right,” I replied, a little hurt that she didn’t think any of my clothes were acceptable. Still, she was the city girl, and my friend. If there was anyone I should trust, it was her.
* * *
After ransacking all of my clothes – and leaving them all over the floor, which bugged my inner cleaning-lady – Veronica decided that I did not, in fact, have anything good to wear and that we needed to go shopping.
“But, Vee,” I said. “I don’t even have a job yet! Where am I supposed to get the money?”
This, she answered with another roll of her eyes.
Finally, I agreed to let her take me shopping, so long as it was somewhere cheap. “Come on, Danielle,” she teased, as I tried on department store get up after get up. “You’re going to end up dying a virgin if you keep dressing like that! department store You look like a hillbilly!”
The sundress in question – a light, yellow thing with white flowers – was quickly discarded, and I began to look for “sexier” things. Eventually, Veronica found a skinny black dress that was both way too expensive and way too small. She decided at once that it was “the one.”
“I really shouldn’t…” I kept protesting until she, with a huff, declared that she would simply pay for it.
“Somebody’s got to,” she explained. “It’s for your own good, Danielle.”
I smiled, thanking her profusely. With money so tight at home, people rarely bought me things, so it felt really good to get such a gift. Such a feminine one. My brothers were more likely to buy me a new hockey helmet than a dress. I felt really lucky to have a friend as good as Veronica.
“Of course you are,” she said, when I told her this. “Now come on. It’s getting dark, and we have to get some makeup on you.”
So we rushed back to the apartment, Veronica had a fight with my face, poking and swabbing it until it was acceptable, and then we went out.
“Oh my god!” I chirped. “I can’t believe I’m about to party in New York City!”
Veronica smiled, and then frowned. It was funny how she could do that. “Rule number one about New York,” she said. “Never get too excited about anything. Now, let’s go.”
I expected our first stop to be some sort of pub, where we could get food as well as drinks, but to my surprise Veronica led us right to a club.
“What, why waste alcohol by eating beforehand?” She said. “This way, you get drunk, faster.”
She demonstrated her point by taking a third shot.
“Okay. If you say so,” I said, still sipping my first beer. Either way, the club was still amazing. There seemed to be a million people there, and yet, somehow, we didn’t have to wait that long for a drink! It was as if they were used to having such a crowd, and were staffed regularly to deal with it – which, I realized, they most definitely were. Isn’t New York City amazing?
After that first club, we went to a bar, where we proceeded to drink even more and still not eat. By this point, Veronica was wobbling around on her high-heeled shoes, and I was starting to feel awkward. Men kept coming over and grabbing her. Half the time she seemed to like it, cooing back at them like a kitten, and the other half she would hiss like a snake, complaining about the death of chivalry.
After about an hour of this, I finally started getting annoyed.
“If you don’t like it, Vee, then maybe you should stop staring at all of them!” I flared, then instantly regretted it. Her drunken gaze hovered on me, and she chuckled.
“You’re just jealous,” she slurred, “that all these guys are coming up to me, and not one of them have talked to you.”
“That’s not true!” I snapped, and yet I had to hide my face, for I was blushing. She wasn’t precisely correct. I didn’t actually want the hounding attention of a bunch of drunk idiots. Not really. But I was confused and hurt that every single guy in the vicinity seemed to be more interested in Veronica’s petty cattiness than someone like me.
You’re just not that hot, I told myself. That’s okay though. You’re hard-working and nice. Men like those things, right?
Right.
So, by the time the bouncer kicked us out of that last bar, I was feeling pretty depressed.
“Let’s go home, Vee, please,” I said, feeling helpless because I didn’t know the way back. If I had thought ahead, I would have ordered a cab, but I’d spent all my spare cash on drinks.
“Oh, come on!” She complained. “The night is still young! I know – let’s get something to eat! That’ll make you happy, at least!”
Yes, it would. I immediately agreed, and found myself swept off to a nearby restaurant, one that Veronica promised would be excellent. I was surprised to find that it was actually part of this ritzy hotel, The Clifton. It was the kind of place with doormen, a million managers, and single-night room prices that would probably pay our rent for a month.
“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly. “It looks expensive.”
“Bitch, everything in New York is expensive,” Veronica shot back, and, before I could protest any more, ushered the pair of us inside.
Even though it was so late, the place was still really crowded, and I was immediately impressed by how great of a place it would be to work. A hotel and a restaurant, right in the center of New York City? Imagine all the possibilities! Still, I knew that it would be way out of my league, at least for now, so I contented myself instead to gush about it to Veronica as we sat down.
“Oh, work, work, work! Is that all you ever talk about?” She mocked, ordering herself another drink.
“Uh, Veronica,” I murmured quietly. “Are you sure you should be having another one? Remember that time on spring-break, when you – ”
“Aw, shut up, Danielle. You’re such a mom.”
I winced. It was not the first time I’d been called that before. You try raising four little brothers and not being motherly, alright?
Her drink came. A whiskey sour. Probably the worst idea she could have had. She plucked it from the waiter’s hand with a scowl, so I thanked him instead before ordering a pair of water for the two of us, and some bread. Veronica snarled that she did not like bread – too many carbs – before downing two thirds of her cocktail.
At which point she turned, glared at the waiter, and vomited all over his shoes.