Authors: Gemma Burgess
The Wild One (32 page)
First I pick up my phone. Two missed calls and a text from Pia wondering where I am. She didn't even bother to get in touch until this morning. Thanks a lot, ladybitch. If she left the house drunk and upset, I'd sure as hell chase her. Though she wouldn't do that, of course. Not anymore.
Then I open the envelope.
It's full of hundred-dollar bills. Thirty of them.
Three thousand fucking dollars.
I count it again quickly, my skin burning strangely at the sight of so much cash. It's such a tiny stack of notes, but just imagine what I could buy with it.⦠Holy shit, that's a lot of money. That's more than Cornelia gave me every month. When she remembered.
Three thousand dollars.
I pause, looking out the hotel window over SoHo. I can see over the downtown rooftops, some with those funny Manhattan water thingies on top, and a bit of West Broadway, and people walking and shopping and going to Felix for brunch and leading ordinary days that probably didn't start naked, alone, and confused in a hotel room.
Why would Stef give me three thousand dollars?
Then my phone buzzes again.
It's Stef.
Hey kitten! Great night. Sorry for bailing, but hope you two had fun.â¦;-) Heading to a party in Turks tomorrow if you want to come. xoxo
What does he mean “hope you two had fun”? Two who? Who two? And he bailed? So I didn't sleep with him? And the money isn't from him? Who is it from? Who the fuck did I sleep with?
I turn the envelope over again. No signature. Nothing else.
I feel sick.
I don't want to think about it, so I quickly throw my white dress back on, tie my wet hair into a tight little knot and secure it with the Soho Grand pencil, put the “A xx” envelope in my fur/army coat, and leave the room. I hope I don't see Mani. He used to hang out in the lobby here a lot. He was soâ Urgh,
why
am I thinking about my ex-boyfriend at a time like this?
Five-inch heels before noon: not cool. The Soho Grand lobby, at least, is kind of sexy and dusky, so I don't feel too out of place, but once I'm outside, the freezing white glare of the February morning is horrific.
I feel like everyone is looking at me and thinking,
Slut.
I try my usual walk-of-shame trick of dialing up the attitude and pretending I'm too gnarly for this shit, but it doesn't work.
Deep inside my body I'm nauseous ⦠in my soul, or heart, or brain, or something. Cold and itchy.
I always do the wrong thing. Always.
It's always an accident.
But it's always wrong.
A tall doorman with kind eyes puts me in a taxi, and I say, “Union Street, Brooklyn, please.”
And then as the cab starts driving, I lean forward, bury my face in my knees so the driver can't see me, and cry.
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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 family. You can find out more at
www.gemmaburgess.com
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CONTENTS
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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.
THE WILD ONE.
Copyright © 2015 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
copyright © 2014 by Gemma Burgess
Cover design by Olga Grlic
Cover photographs © Cavan Images/Offset
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-00087-3 (trade paperback)
ISBN 978-1-4668-5982-1 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466859821
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at
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First Edition: November 2015
