“No kissing dudes!” I shouted, laughing, as I swatted them away.
I really agreed to do it for Natalie, so she could make Flip Roberts sorry. So that he could spend the rest of his life thinking about the girl that got away. I was sure he would, because I hadn’t stopped thinking about her just from the one night. This plan also gave me a great excuse to see her again right away with no vulnerability on my end.
Albert snapped back into his usual state of despair. “Wait. How do you know she’ll do it?”
I alleviated their worry with one sentence. “There’s a guy she’s trying to get back at.” Revenge—that they understood.
I put on the suit and pink tie that I’d worn the night before, and Hank and I headed to Bloomingdale’s while Albert went to his office to arrange the photo shoot. Natalie had told me the night before that she was working today and I was excited to see her again, though I said nothing to Barnum and Bailey about it. God only knows what kind of media circus they would create with that information.
As we reached 59th Street I began to get nervous, and Hank must have noticed. “What’s up with you? You’re doing that thing you do before a big scene where you chew on your lip.”
“No, I’m not.” I sounded like I was responding to my mother. I’ve been chewing on my lip like that when I’m nervous for as long as I can remember.
He dropped it and went back to his phone. I was nervous about seeing her again, nervous because I liked her. She was sweet, and had that I’m-not-going-to-eat-you-up-and-spit-you-out smile. Plus she was normal, so normal, which was refreshing. She didn’t seem to care that I was famous. In fact, she spoke to me like I was one of her girlfriends or something. Suddenly it hit me. I hadn’t had this experience with a woman in a very long time: she didn’t like me. At least not in the way I liked her. This normal, pretty, sweet girl who acted like she didn’t care that I was a handsome movie star actually didn’t care that I was a handsome movie star. I would have to win her affections as Stanley Trenton. I felt anxious and awful. Maybe this was just some post-walking-in-on-your-fiancée-in-bed-with-her-trainer insecurity. Maybe I would realize that I didn’t like this girl so much after all.
Hank shouted at me, “What the hell, Jeremy, you’re going to bite right through your lip! We’re here, let’s go.”
We got out of the car. I wished it were Albert with me so I could ask for a little nibble of a Xanax. Hank slapped a baseball hat on my head and pulled it down low as we headed up the escalator to the third floor. I wanted to say something cute to her and ran through funny lines in my head, but I had nothing. My insecurity grew, and I wished I had brought a screenwriter with me instead of an agent.
We approached, and as soon as she looked up and saw me I went with a quick-to-backfire joke. I held up a red dress and said, “Do you have this in my size?”
She seemed not to get it and answered as if I was really asking. “Um, I don’t think that would fit you.”
“I was joking,” I said, somewhat defensively.
“Oh—sorry. I…didn’t want to be politically incorrect.”
I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but she followed it with her pretty smile so I chalked it up to awkward attempts at humor on both sides and moved on to explaining the situation. She agreed to the photo shoot, but there was one problem. Tomás, her associate, had just sent the very last Max Hammer small out for delivery to a customer. She called him over, and for some reason, which he refused to explain, he said he was almost certain the dress would be exchanged for a bigger size by Tuesday at the latest. Hank wasn’t happy about the delay but texted Albert to set up the shoot for Wednesday. He told Natalie and me that under no circumstances were we to be seen together before then, and left mumbling something about his three wasted years at Harvard Law.
“I’m kind of disappointed,” I confessed to Natalie. “I thought maybe we could’ve had dinner together again.”
She seemed thrilled by the invite. “We can—let’s go back to Queens! No one will be looking for you there. You could even hide out. I’m off work until Tuesday. We could be incognito till then—just in time to get the dress.”
Tuesday! I thought. Maybe she does like me after all.