Brooklyn Girls (40 page)
So I never talk about my secret fashion career dream. It’s easier that way. Secretly wanting something and not getting it is one thing. I can handle that; I’m good at it. But talking about wanting it, putting it out there, making it real … and then not getting it? I couldn’t deal with that much failure.
The café, Westies, is in Hell’s Kitchen, an area of Manhattan I’m not that familiar with, but it seems aptly named today. The streets are freezing and empty, heaped with filthy, blackened snow. Manhattan looks mean in February.
Stef’s car is parked outside. Predictably. It’s his pride and joy, a red Ferrari 308 GTS. It’s a gorgeous car, I admit, a little “look at me!” for my taste, but he loves it.
I stride into the empty café—past greasy counters and scabby red velvet cupcakes on a dirty cake stand—and open the red door, walk down some old metal stairs that smell strangely like cabbage and yeast, past a dark green velvet curtain, and find myself in a warm, dark, calm little room.
There’s a ladder against a wall, where someone’s been putting up wallpaper. A handful of small round tables, a bar area the size of a bed, candles, and the Ramones. The perfect secret after-hours bar.
Stef’s the only person in here, and he’s sitting at the bar. He’s cute, though a little simian for my liking. Overconfident and overintense with the eye contact. You know the type.
“What’s up?” I greet him with a triple cheek kiss, the way Stef always does.
“Nothing, my angel,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lighting a cigarette. Wow, this must be a secret bar if they let you smoke inside. “How’s life with Cornie? It’s so cute that you work for her. Does she say
yoohoo
every morning when she sees you?”
“She’s away.” Stef is part of that Upper East Side Manhattan rich kid crowd that all know one another, always have and always will, and so is Cornelia. “I need to make some money, fast.”
“You wanna split an Adderall?”
“Sure.”
“Drug tales and dreams, baby.… This is my buddy’s place. It’s not open to the public yet, but the bar’s fully stocked. Help yourself to a drink.” Stef takes out his wallet, looking for his pills. He has a sort of cracked drawl, so he sounds permanently amused and slightly stoned. He probably is. “Fix me something while you’re at it. I’m going to the bathroom. Unisex. Pretty nineties, huh?”
Two vodkas and half an Adderall later, and the world is a lot smoother.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gemma Burgess spent her twenties getting lost, drunk, dumped, fired, or in a state of mild hysteria, and still managed to have some of the best times of her life. She lives in New York City with her husband and baby. You can find out more at
www.gemmaburgess.com
.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BROOKLYN GIRLS.
Copyright © 2013 by Gemma Burgess. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Excerpt from
Love and Chaos: A Brooklyn Girls Novel
copyright © 2013 by Gemma Burgess.
Cover design by Olga Grlic
Cover photograph © Tony Anderson/Getty Images
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Burgess, Gemma.
Brooklyn girls / Gemma Burgess.—First edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-250-00085-9 (trade pbk.)
ISBN 978-1-250-02887-7 (e-book)
1. Young women—New York (State)—New York—Fiction. 2. Female friendship—Fiction. 3. Self-realization in women—Fiction. 4. Brooklyn (New York, N.Y.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6102.U68B76 2013
823'.92—dc23
2013003053
eISBN 9781250028877
First Edition: July 2013
