42nd & Lex (4 page)

I pinch myself under the desk to see if I am
still in dreaming. There is no way this is happening. The air around me seems
to snap with an electricity I cannot see.  

“Right, so why you are here?” I’m too
stunned to be anything but blunt now. “Surely, it’s not to thank me again for
holding the elevator this morning and I already apologized for stepping on your
foot yesterday. I have business to attend to you know, I just can't spend all
day chatting in circles with good looking stra—.” Now I’ve gone and done it. “—with
strangers.” Seriously, has it been that long since I talked to a man? I will my
face not to blush, but it doesn’t obey. There is a bead of sweat breaking on my
brow.

“There is plenty of time for that, love.” He
winks a little when he says that and I struggle to understand what he means. The
flutter of my heart has to be visible at this point. I glance down at my chest
to check. When I look back, Lucan O’Reilly is gone.  

“Max! Get in here!” I scream into the
intercom once I’ve recovered a little. I’m still palming the receiver when Max
appears in my doorway. His face is white because I am not a screamer. “Did that
really just happen?” I ask. “You saw that man, right? He was real?”

“Yeah, I saw him. Why are you so fired up?”

Fired up? On fire is more like it. I can
still feel the electricity in the air crackling against my skin. Whatever has
been restless inside me is now wide-awake and desperate for more. “Holy shit,”
is all I can think to say.

“Check your inbox,” Max offers.

How is Max suddenly so calm? When I don’t
move Max walks over and opens it for me, the results of his Google search pop
up. The first link is to an article from a local society page website. “
Mr.
Lucan O’Reilly, sole benefactor of the Ward Street Hospital…generous gift from
the O’Reilly Foundation…New York’s most eligible bachelor…
”

So Luke is rich and single. I scan the other
three or four links and they are all basically the same. I can see why Max is
excited about him, but it doesn’t give me a clue as to who Lucan O’Reilly
really is or why he was just in my office. All it proves is that we don’t run
in the same social circles.

The extent of my charitable giving is an
occasion bag of old clothes to the women’s shelter and I never patronize the
arts. I have lived in New York for almost six years and never visited the MOMA
or the Guggenheim. I took my mom to see the Lion King once; I guess that might
count for something. The only thing I have in common with Like O’Reilly is that
we are both single. 

I am still mumbling to myself when Max walks
back in, I didn’t notice him leave. “Max, all I can find out is that he’s rich,
single, and gives away money to charities and the arts. That describes hundreds
of people in this city.”

Stacey interrupts my rant with a knock on my
open door. “Ah, that hot guy that was just here…he left this.”

She hands me a black business card. “How
odd,” I marvel. There is no address, no phone number, and no email, just his
name in a silver script across a red crest. 

“Lemme
see that.” Max snatches the card from my hand. He mutters something that sounds
like ‘shit’ and all the color had drains out of his face.

“What?”
I ask. How can a simple business card, well, calling card really, generate such
a negative response, especially since Max already knew the guy’s name? 

Before Max can answer, my phone buzzes and
we both jump. It’s Stacey on the intercom. “Abri, I have Mr. O’Reilly on the
phone for you.” I can hear the excitement in her voice. “He sure is smitten
with you, isn’t he?”

My heart skips a beat and I nearly choke.
Max and I look at each other. I want him to tell me why Luke’s card is so
upsetting but his face closes up and he glowers at the phone and me. “Thank you,
Stacey. I’ll take the call.”

The hold button on my phone begins to flash.
Max reaches for the phone but I slap his hand away.

“Too late, you missed your chance,” I hiss. “You
can stay. No speaker phone though, I don’t want him to know.” I pick up the
receiver. “This is Abri.”

“Hello, Abri. I trust you and Max have had a
chance to Google me by now.” How did he know that? “Hello, Max.” His is voice
slightly louder than before so that Max is sure to hear. 

“Oh, you’re not on speaker.” I try not to
stumble over my words. I feel like I have been dared to call the most popular
boy in school and now I am in danger of just giggling like an idiot and hanging
up. 

Luke laughs. “I might not be on speaker, but
I’m sure he’s in the room with you hanging on my every word.” Shit. I grab a note
pad on my desk and scribble to Max to go check the hallway.

“Can you blame me for wanting to do a little
research on a stranger who popped up in my office this morning, Mr. O’Reilly?” Who
is this coy creature taking over my voice?

“Please, it’s Luke.”

“Luke,” I repeat. A smile creeps across my
face. I can’t stay mad at this man. I have an overwhelming urge to flirt with
him, to keep him on the phone anyway I can, just to hear his voice.

“And no, I can’t blame you at all. I just wanted
to offer my sincerest apologies for our awkward meeting this morning. I hadn’t
planned for it to seem so…stalkeriffic.” He’s using the same turn of phrase I
had been thinking during our conversation.   

Max comes back in with a shrug, the hallways
are clear. His face is still wary however.

“Apology accepted. No harm done. I didn’t
say you were stalkeriffic, specifically, did I?” I am nervous for his reply.  

“No, love, you didn’t. Meet me for dinner tonight.”
I can’t tell if it is a request or a demand by his tone. Either way, I am
willing. Damn, I almost forgot about the happy hour at Charlie’s.

“I have a thing tonight,” I stammer. “A work
thing I can’t get out of until at least nine.”

“I will pick you up at nine o' clock from Charlie’s
Bar.” Luke purrs into my ear. 

“Ah, okay. How did you know that?”

“Tonight at nine.” And with that, I hear the
line go dead.  

“I have a date with Luke O’Reilly.” I say to
myself, to Max, trying to make sure it’s still real.

Max just stares at me as if he wants to say
something important. “Abri, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why? You were just all over excited about
this hot guy being interested in me. Hell, you let him in here. What’s
changed?”

Max flubs for an answer and doesn’t find one.
“Just be careful, Abri,” he says, barely above a whisper. He turns to leave,
placing the calling card back on my desk.

The rest of my morning is less than
productive. I decide to forgo lunch in favor of running back to my apartment to
find a better outfit for tonight. I run past Lindsey’s office on my way out to
give my apologies for canceling lunch.

“A better outfit? For what? It’s just the
same boring crowd as always. You’re not trying to impress that new guy in intellectual
property, are you?” Lindsey says, confused about my sudden concern with
fashion. “Good luck with that, those guys are the smart but oblivious types for
the most part. You could wear a sack and they wouldn’t notice.”

“No, I have an appointment afterwards,” I
lie badly. “I’ll be back in an hour.” I call over my shoulder before she has a
chance to ask more questions.  

I sprint to the elevator and hop on. I lean
against the back wall and think about the last time I was in here… with Luke,
and not plunging elevator cars. When the doors open, I smile. Maybe I am too
excited to be afraid or maybe I am not afraid anymore. Lucan O’Reilly, it seems,
has had a profound effect on my elevator issues. I hail a cab in record time
for midday Manhattan and mentally scan through my closet for something to wear.
What does one wear to meet up with mysterious elevator men? Maybe I should just
buy something new. 

“Excuse me,” I call through the cab’s vent
to the driver. “Can you just drop me off at Macy’s?” He nods and sticks his
head out the window to yell at the car next to him instead of just signaling to
change lanes. When the driver in the next lane doesn’t accommodate his demand,
he begins with the horn. I shrink down in my seat.

I shove my money into the slot in the
divider and jump out in front of Macy’s. I have about forty-five minutes to
shop and get back to the office though the chances of me actually finding a
killer outfit in that time are minimal. As I ride the escalator up to the
women’s department, I think about my options. Nothing too “
Hello, I just
went and bought this at lunch to impress you
.”

Never mind that he’s already seen what I 'm
wearing this morning and will know I changed for our date. I have a flashback
to the Working Girl Barbie I had when I was eight. She could go from pink business
suit to sequined halter-top and mini skirt just by taking off her jacket and
turning her skirt wrong side out. Now why didn’t I have something like that? 

“Can I help you?”

“No, I’m fine.” I smile and keep looking. I don’t
need a sales clerk slowing me down. Before she can make a second attempt, a satiny
emerald green dress catches my eye. It’s knee length, low cut but not slutty. It’s
perfect. I grab a few size selections and head to the dressing room. How can
this be so easy? I try on the size 6. It fits perfectly as if it was made for
me; the girls look perfect, my ass looks perfect. I don’t even need a pair of
Spanx. Thank God, I remembered to shave my legs this morning.

Maybe I should see if this thing comes in
other colors and buy them all. It can’t get any better than this so I throw my
tired khakis and scuffed shoes back on and step out to pay. A glance in the
mirror leaves me wondering why Luke has asked me out on a date after seeing me
looking like this.

“Oh, I love this dress!” exclaims the sales
clerk I blew off minutes before. “It looks awesome on everyone!”

“No kidding. It’s like it was made for me.” She
completes the last part of my sentence and we laugh. I must be in some parallel
universe. Shopping is never this easy or fun. Shoes. I need shoes! “Where is
the shoe department?”

“You must have a hot date tonight?” she asks.
Kelly. I read her nametag as she hands me the dress draped in a plastic bag. 

“Something like that,” I beam back, hardly
able to contain my excitement or my nerves. I have never done anything like
this in my life. My restless soul stirs with approval.

“Follow me. I know just the shoes for this.”
We talk about men and dating as Kelly walks me to the shoe department. She
bypasses the store brand shoes that I am so typically fond of and goes straight
to the designer labels. I didn’t even look at the receipt for the dress when
she handed it to me. I steel a glance at it. $45.73. It had been on sale too. This
is a parallel universe. 

“Here.” Kelly holds up a pair of black
peep-toe heels with silver stars studded on them. Jimmy Choo I read on the
insole. I am in love. Never mind that heels are generally a disaster for me and
that these are exceptionally tall and thin, I need them. They are edgy and
cool, something so contrary to my own persona and definitely requisite of a
mystery date with a hottie. Now, I wonder, how did Kelly suppose I was in the
market for eight hundred dollar shoes after purchasing a forty-five dollar
dress?

I can’t think of a better way to spend the last
of the Christmas cash from my absentee father. Fifteen hundred dollars every
Christmas like clockwork. It equates to one month’s child support that he
should have paid to my mother each month until I was eighteen but didn’t. At
this rate, he might be caught up by the time I am in a nursing home. 

“If they have them in an eight and a half,
they’re mine.”

Kelly emerges from the back with a little
hot pink box held ceremoniously over her head exclaiming they are the last pair.
I plunk down my debit card and silently thank dad for his better-late-than-never-but-still-not-enough
gift. My watch says only twenty-two minutes have elapsed since I left the cab.

“Kelly, thank you,” I bubble. “You rock!”

“You’re welcome,” she replies handing me
back my card and receipt. “I usually work in bridal couture, come see me when
he pops the question.”

I giggle. “It’s only a first date and maybe
not even a date.”

“I know.” She winks. 

I am back at work with just enough time to
grab a sandwich before heading upstairs. I call Lindsey to see if she wants
anything but she doesn’t answer, probably having lunch with the guys in
litigation. She has a thing for one of them but I can’t keep them straight. They
all wear the same navy blue Brooks Brothers’ suit and red power tie for their
daily trips to court. 

I have timed my arrival to the elevator bank
with about twenty other lunchers. Feeling adventurous, I get on and concentrate
on keeping everyone’s lunch leftovers off my plastic wrapped miracle dress
instead of impending doom. My stomach tenses a little, but I actually manage to
breathe through it. I leave the elevator with a smile and practically skip to
my office.

I buzz Linds to see if she’s back from lunch
yet. “Hey,” she yells into the speaker. 

“Hey. Come look at what I got to wear to the
happy hour tonight.” I refuse to admit it is for Luke. 

“Okay, give me a second.” I hear a masked
giggle and the connection ends. I don’t want to know what she is up to in
there.

“Lemme see,” she says as she comes through
the door. I lift the plastic cover from the dress. “Holy cow, Abri, that’s not
a dress for an appointment. You have a date.” Lindsey is raising an eyebrow at
me, daring me to deny it.

“No, I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think
so.” I am not convincing her or myself. “I do have an appointment.” I repeat my
earlier line.

“Abri, a family law attorney does not meet
prospective clients at nine o’clock at night looking like that!” Damn. Okay. Well,
it’s not as if Lindsey is stupid.