Chapter 13
Roka’s apartment turned out to be a Brooklyn Heights penthouse with the kind of stone steps and huge windows that screamed ‘movie set’, complete with a kitchen island that sparkled like it’d been dipped in glitter.
She let us in, then disappeared briefly and returned with tracksuit bottoms for us both and two Roka tour T-shirts. I seriously could have kissed her. Getting out of these lake-drenched clothes was my top priority. Of all the things I’d imagined might go wrong, mutual drowning hadn’t made the list.
Meanwhile, Roka’s top priority had been making sure the lake bloke didn’t spread the story.
She’d promised him two tickets to her upcoming intimate Manhattan show plus a tip that made his eyes go cartoon-wide, all in exchange for pretending we were competent humans who hadn’t just provided the afternoon’s entertainment for half the lake.
“Use my guest rooms to get ready.” She indicated two doors next to each other. “They both have their own bathrooms with everything you could need, but take your time. When you’re ready, I’ll be on the roof with fresh coffee.”
When she disappeared, I glanced at Eliza. “Even though this isn’t going exactly to plan, I feel like we’ve made an impression.”
She rolled her eyes, but laughed all the same. “You always make an impression, Poppy Voss.” She stared at me for a beat too long, stroked my arm, and then bolted through one of the doors like she’d been scalded.
I had no idea what to make of that.
Having intended to have the quickest shower of my life, I ended up spending more time marvelling at what pop stars have in their guest bathrooms. Acres of stylish tiles and enough plants to supply a garden centre was the answer, along with hotel-soft towels.
When I eventually made it outside, Roka was on the sofa chatting to Eliza, in a rooftop garden that offered a picture-postcard view of Manhattan’s skyline.
Fairy lights were strung between potted olive trees, and comfortable seating areas were scattered around like someone had actually thought about how people might want to relax rather than just pose for Instagram.
Roka had changed into jeans and a vintage Fleetwood Mac T-shirt, and without the baseball cap, her famous sculpted fair hair caught the afternoon light.
“You made it!” she said when she spotted me. She jumped up, poured me a coffee from the pot on a side table, then we all settled down amid a mammoth pile of cushions I would not want to fluff up on a daily basis.
She held out her wrist, the latest Voss watch strapped snugly to it.
“What do you think?” Roka asked. “Eliza gave me your latest.”
“I think it suits you,” I told her, then flashed Eliza a grateful smile.
Roka studied the watch, then nodded. “Me, too.” She paused. “Eliza was just telling me her ex-wife lives in the city. Do you have any skeletons in Manhattan?”
That was news. I thought Eliza was all about holding back, keeping things professional, but apparently she’d changed her mind.
“I’m squeaky clean where New York is concerned. London’s a different matter, though.”
“I’m in the UK next month for a festival. Maybe you could tell me the best places to get into trouble?” Roka smiled. “But tell me more about Voss Watches. We were up to the bit where you hated the company but then you didn’t, before you took a dip in the lake.”
I stood, and gazed out at Manhattan, trying to channel every business documentary I'd ever watched. “Are you a born and bred New Yorker?”
Roka nodded. “Born in Brooklyn, raised in Queens, moved to Manhattan, hated it. Finally back where I belong.”
“Then you understand the love of a city. I’m the same with London, but also with the Highlands. It’s where my family are from.” I gestured to Eliza. “It’s where we spent idyllic summers in our childhood, too, so Eliza understands.”
Eliza gave me an encouraging smile that made my stomach do something acrobatic.
“Voss Watches straddles both locations. My great-grandmother started the company with nothing but determination and a talent for annoying men who thought women couldn’t understand engineering. It’s in my heart and my blood, even though I tried to deny it.”
Roka blinked. “You two know each other from way back?” She sounded surprised.
I nodded. “Our parents were friends, so we’ve always been in each other’s orbit.”
She licked her lips thoughtfully. “Old friends. It makes more sense now.”
I frowned. “What does?”
“The chemistry I feel between you.” She paused, studying us both with the kind of interest that made me want to hide behind a cushion. “Just friends? Nothing more?”
Eliza shook her head perhaps a bit too quickly. “No. We’re old friends, but we haven’t actually spent much time together in the past decade. Our paths haven’t crossed much since university.”
I could already tell this was piquing Roka’s interest, so I let it roll.
“But I’ve got six months to prove I have what it takes to run this company, otherwise my aunt is going to sell the business to some corporate vultures who’ll probably turn it into smart watches that count your steps and judge your life choices.
I don’t want that to happen. Eliza is here to help me get the job done.
But it would give us a huge boost if you’d agree to help us. ”
“Poppy has the vision and the energy. But truly great things only happen in collaboration.”
Eliza raised her gaze to me as she said that, and a lightning bolt of realisation slammed through me. Not your budget lightning bolt, either. A full-body slam that almost knocked me off my feet.
Oh.
Oh, bloody hell.
This wasn’t just nostalgia or gratitude or the general confusion of being in New York with someone I’d always admired. Was what Katy said right? Did I really like Eliza in that way? And if I did, how had it taken me until I was 29 to realise it?
I wanted to kiss her. Right here, right now, in front of a global pop superstar on a rooftop in Brooklyn. And it wasn’t purely because she’d just said something nice about me.
Great timing, Pops.
Christ, I was an idiot.
Roka studied me, then Eliza, then stood with a knowing smile. “I like you two, and doing business with two women who understand me and my music makes sense. Also, I have a new song called ‘It’s About Time’. Maybe we could do something with that?”
“That would be incredible,” I replied.
“Plus, I love the idea of my own watch. Nobody’s ever offered me that before. I like your ethos. It’ll all come down to timing, but I hope it can work. Shoot my manager some dates and a contract, and let’s see what we can do.” She paused. “What are you doing tonight?”
I shrugged, trying to look casual while internally having a complete meltdown about my feelings and Roka’s agreement. “It’s our final night, we’re going to see where it takes us and soak up the city.”
“I’ve got a friend who runs a bar in Bushwick. She’s having a sapphic night if you want to go along? I’m going to try to make it, but her nights are always brilliant. Lots of queer women, good music, bad dancing, the works.”
I glanced at Eliza, whose cheeks had gone slightly pink. “Sounds good to me.”