His beady little eyes opened wide at my threat—clearly, he wasn’t used to his prey biting back.
I was already scooting off my barstool when my phone vibrated in my hand. What a perfect exit. I wanted to get far away from Meaty McGrabsALot and I had to answer my phone.
He twisted on his stool and threw his hands up in defeat as I walked away. “Oh c’mon. Stay! I was just playin’ around.”
“Well then, you should work on your delivery, ’cause that wasn’t very playful.”
By the time I pushed through the door of the restaurant, I didn’t have time to consider the unknown number on my phone. It was about to stop ringing and I hated returning calls from strange numbers. That inevitable conversation: “Yes, hi, you just called me—No, I don’t know anyone named Lupita—uh, no soy Lupita, lo siento.” Apparently, I shared my digits with an elderly woman from the Dominican Republic. Whodathought?
“Hello? Can you hear me?” I answered as I held the phone to my ear.
The city noise made it nearly impossible to hear the woman on the other end of the line. I squatted down, wedged my finger into my free ear, and pressed the phone against the other as hard as possible. If I’d shoved it any closer, I’d probably have radiated my brain.
“Hello—can you hear me?” I asked again.
“Yes. Hey. Is this Lily Black?”
I covered my ear and ducked back against the building, hoping it would help block the noise.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“Zoe. From Provisions.”
My heart leapt at the name of the restaurant I’d been waiting to hear back from.
“Listen, I know this is kind of insane of me to ask, but we’re really short staffed tonight.” Her voice cut off and then I heard muffled yells from her end of the phone. A second later, she spoke back through the receiver. “Lily, you still there?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
“Is there any way you could get here like…” She paused again. “Now?”
I stared at the street signs around me like that would help. Ha. I’d spent twelve hours in New York. The only street names I knew were Broadway, 5th, and Wall Street—none of which would help me in this situation, but I didn’t want to let Zoe know that. You can get anywhere in the city fairly quickly right? It’s an island; how big can it possibly be?
“Uh, I think I can be there in like ten minutes, but I haven’t had an interview or anything.”
She laughed into the phone like I’d just told the funniest joke she’d ever heard.
“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
“I…uhh…”
“God, that was a joke. Get here.”
The line went dead and I stared down at the black screen in shock. I had ten minutes. Well, now nine minutes and fifty seconds. SHIT. I typed Provisions into Google Maps and then cringed as the route popped up. By car, I could get there in eight minutes. Walking, I’d need at least twenty. I didn’t have cash to spare on a cab, and I wasn’t brave enough to try the subway system. That left me with one option. I tied my long hair up in a ponytail, threw my purse over my shoulder, and took off in a dead sprint toward Provisions.
By the time I arrived outside, sweat dripped from my brow, I’d skinned a knee after tripping over a curb, and I was pretty sure I had about five different pieces of gum stuck to the bottom of my heels. All in all, it wasn’t my best look.
Clumps of people crowded outside the restaurant, waiting to be seated. I edged my way through them, trying to catch my breath as I went. Finally, I arrived in front of a massive black door flanked by two round topiaries. Right above the door, shining under a spotlight, “Provisions” was spelled out in thin metal letters.
I reached for the door handle, still breathing like a wild woman as I stepped into the dim light of the restaurant’s foyer. Untreated marble floors sat below crisp grey walls. Black-and-white photos were positioned at eye level around the small room. They were snapshots of everyday objects: an apple, an iris, stacked bricks; it was the scale and simplicity of the photos that turned them into something intriguing.
“Uhh, can I help you with something?”
I turned toward the hostess positioned behind a black podium. A gold desk lamp shined down on her list of chosen people who’d get to dine in the restaurant that night. Her sour expression told me I clearly wasn’t one of them.
“I’m here to see Zoe,” I explained, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice.