He didn’t wait for her inevitably stupid reply. He took her chin in his hands and kissed her—fully, unabashedly, right in the middle of the tourists and for all of New York to see, if they could see on top of huge buildings. And not a quick kiss, either—it went on and on, with at least five pauses for breath, and then, when it looked like it might be over, just started up all over again. He kissed her so long that she had to hold him for support.
The tourists didn’t care. They just milled around like this was just something else they expected to see. Scarlett even got a flash in the corner of her eye as someone took their picture. As it was finally winding down, they switched the lights on overhead, and the spire that towered above them turned a luminescent purple.
“That,” Eric said, looking up at the light, “was pretty much how I imagined it would be.”
Scarlett found it a little hard to stand as they went back through the gift shop, to the series of elevators and escalators to take them back down. The whole “weak in the knees” thing, which she always thought was just some idiotic expression back from the golden age of idiotic expressions, was real. Her knees really were weak. Why, she had no idea. Kissing shouldn’t produce any particular leg strain, at least once it’s over, but there it was. They were all spaghettilike.
Eric had his arm wrapped around her as they rode the elevator back down, as if proudly announcing their coupledom to the world. It was this, combined with the general body weakness, and the g-force of being dropped so many hundreds of feet in a matter of seconds that caused Scarlett to do what she did next. As they emerged on the mezzanine, Eric stepping back to allow her to go first down the escalator, she said, “Are we…you know…dating?”
“We haven’t had a proper date yet,” he said, good-naturedly. “Where I come from, nothing is official until you’ve had dinner together in the mall and made out for at least two hours in a car. What do you do without malls and cars?”
Scarlett gave this the expected smile, but wasn’t feeling very amused. This conversation was ridiculous. She had never actually imagined how you did this—she thought it just happened. A mutual wave of understanding passed over both your heads, covering you both completely in the warm waters of relationship status.
But no. Like most things in life, it required an unexpectedly awkward moment of bureaucracy.
“I just mean…”
She tried to lift her voice and say that last bit in a joking way—but not too joking, as if her entire being didn’t exactly depend on the answer.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “I didn’t think people in New York had these conversations.”
He was still smiling, but he had taken out his keys and was bouncing them nervously in his palm.
“We don’t,” she lied, poorly. “I was just kidding.”
“Oh, right,” he drawled.
Scarlett had no idea what that meant. He was playing with his sunglasses now, polishing them on his shirt. The ease had disappeared.
She had messed this up very, very badly. If her friends had been here, Scarlett thought ruefully, this would never have happened. Dakota would have come to the stupid Empire State Building, leapt out of the shadows, and tackled Scarlett before she would have let her ask that question. This is why her friends shouldn’t have been allowed to go anywhere. She got stupid when they were gone.
There was only one thing to do—get out of the burning plane. Put on the parachute. Jump. Salvage what she could. Make it seem like she didn’t care too much.
“Oh my God,” she said. “I completely forgot. I have to go home and…fix up a room. There’s a guest coming. I’d better get back.”
Again, this wasn’t smooth, but he accepted it graciously and gave her a little kiss before she escaped. It was a good kiss, but it didn’t have that same incapacitating energy as the one before.
In the Empire Suite the next morning, the silver walls were covered in taped up notes and Mrs. Amberson was in downward dog.
“Media!” she exclaimed. She pushed herself up to stand and folded her hands prayerfully in front of her chest. “We’re less than a week away from opening. Can you believe that this company had no publicity plan? Don’t answer that. Anyway, we’re about to change that. Do you see this?”
She waved her hand at the notes.
“I’ve spent the last few days reestablishing every contact I have. These are the names of agents, casting directors, reviewers, producers…and do you know what we’re going to do?”
Scarlett shook her head and went over and got out the organic cleaning products. She wasn’t in the mood for any more fill-in-the-blanks conversations.
“We are going to have a special preview. Very special. Catered.”
Scarlett nodded and sprayed the dressing table with ylang-ylang.
“What?” she said. “What is that face, O’Hara?”
“I don’t have a face.”
“You most certainly do. Look at this wonderful work! Do you realize what this means for the show?”
“It’s great,” Scarlett said.
Unable to rouse any enthusiasm, Mrs. Amberson went back into her position.