Chapter 34
34
WASHINGTON SQUARE PARK, GREENWICH VILLAGE
Hayley’s angry stomps had lessened in ferocity, her pace finally turning into a gentle stroll as she headed towards the arch. The snow falling from the sky was so dense, she could barely see anything in front of her. Focusing on the near-replica of the Arc de Triomphe, she carried on, trying to sort out the mess of her muddled mind.
Dean did have a point. But he had no idea of her discontent at home. He had thought this was just a winter holiday, a chance to get together and catch up. Then she’d dropped the mission to find Michel on him. Taking on a job would sound crazy to someone who didn’t know it was ever on the agenda. And Oliver. Romance of any kind, no matter how tentative the status, that had never crossed her mind either. But now there was adult male company on offer and the owner had to-die-for bone structure and eyes she regularly got lost in, why should she turn it down?
She stopped at the base of the arch, looking up through the snow and admiring its stature. She had been here before. In the early morning, just as the sun rose, she and Michel had stood underneath the arch letting the first rays of light touch their faces after their night together. At eighteen, it had seemed romantic. Spending the night with a stranger. A good-looking, foreign stranger who painted and took photos for a living. It would be a story to tell to her children. She hadn’t thought it would be a story she would tell the child she’d made that very night. Now when she thought of what she’d done, all she wanted to do was warn Angel about her own stupidity, tell her never to drink or go off with strange men she knew nothing about.
Hayley shivered and drew her coat closer. There was no way she was leaving this city without finding him.
Restaurant Romario, Greenwich Village
Oliver put his lips to his bottle of beer and took a sip of the cool liquid. He’d had the breath taken from him by Tony’s mother and father when he’d come by the restaurant and they’d force-fed him and Tony several dishes from the menu. Protesting seemed rude and, in his opinion, the food was the best Italy had to offer in New York. The restaurant was busy, couples and families dining on the traditional pizza and pasta fare along with several ‘secret recipe’ dishes Mr Romario had concocted over the years. Red and white check cloths, candles set in empty bottles of Pinot Grigio, the wax dripping down in bubbling strands, coating the glass. It all made for an authentic Italian experience. There was festive cheer thrown in too. Silver and gold tinsel hung over the old wooden window frames and a small Christmas tree sat on a table in the corner, a set of porcelain nativity figures in front of it.
‘I have a date,’ Oliver said, turning his attention back to Tony.
‘Sorry, man, I don’t think I heard you right.’ Tony narrowed his eyes and looked at Oliver with suspicion. ‘Did you say you have a date?’
Oliver nodded, a smile invading his lips. He still hadn’t worked out all the details of the night yet. But he knew he wanted to make it unforgettable. The knowledge of that was killing him as much as exciting him. That was the reason he hadn’t called her yet. He wanted everything to be perfect and he also needed the time to sit with the idea of going out with someone he cared about.
‘As in, with a woman? Someone you’ve met once and arranged to meet again?’ Tony clarified.
‘Kissed too, actually. More than once.’
‘Wow, and did you hold hands?’
Oliver stretched across the table, buffing Tony’s shoulder with his hand. ‘Funny guy.’
Tony laughed, undoing the top button of his shirt and leaning back against the red and white check upholstered booth they were sitting in. ‘So, where did you meet this one?’
‘At the Chinese restaurant, actually.’ He smiled again. ‘When I was escaping from the woman in the red dress.’
‘You dog!’
Oliver was quick to shake his head. ‘No, it wasn’t like that. She bailed me out big time.’
‘And that made you want her even more,’ Tony scoffed.
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Shit, she’s married?’
‘No,’ he paused. ‘But she does have a daughter.’
‘Oh man, stay out of that.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Kids, exes, they’re complications you definitely don’t need.’
‘The ex isn’t on the scene right now.’
‘Then she’ll be needy. And boy, single mothers can smell a billionaire from a mile away,’ Tony said, swigging from his drink .
‘Hey, when did you get so judgemental?’ He felt a niggle of anger digging in his stomach.
‘I’m just telling it like it is.’
‘You haven’t met her yet,’ Oliver defended.
‘Have you asked her what her wish is? Bet it’s a loft in Tribeca.’
Oliver squirmed in his seat. At the mention of Hayley’s wish, a gnawing feeling started in his chest. He’d called Daniel Pearson earlier for an update on Andrew Regis and to see if he’d made any progress finding Michel De Vos. There was nothing yet, in either respect.
‘Her wish was to find her child’s father,’ Oliver breathed out.
‘Holy shit.’ Tony’s eyes enlarged. ‘That’s what she wished when she could have anything?’
Oliver nodded. She’d been honest, true to herself, passionate. All the things he admired. All the things he’d forgotten how to be.
‘You like this woman,’ Tony said, his tone even.
Oliver opened his mouth to reply but, for a second, couldn’t. There was that voice again. You’re going to die . This date is pointless. You can’t fight fate. How could he throw his hat in the ring when she was destined to leave and he was going to die?
But this was his best friend, the guy who knew him better than anyone. He had to be honest despite everything else. ‘Yeah,’ he said, nodding. ‘I like her.’
Vipers Nightclub, Downtown Manhattan
Hayley had meant to go straight back to Dean’s. He’d already sent two messages and left a voicemail. He was worried. Stroppy her was thinking so he should be ; sensible her was thinking she might have overreacted a little and storming off into the night wasn’t behaviour befitting of someone her age. But the nightclub was on her route back and standing outside, feeling the throb and pulse of the music from inside, had transported her back ten years again. With purpose in her stride, she headed to the entrance.
‘Excuse me! Is Artie here?’ She had to shout above the music and squeeze her way in between patrons waiting to be served.
‘Artie doesn’t work until Friday,’ a girl called back, stopping in front of her, using the bottle opener to de-lid a bottle of Bud.
‘Someone told me that; I just thought he might have picked up a couple of extra shifts.’ She needed a lead on Michel. It was driving her crazy. She needed something solid to give Angel.
The bartender passed the bottle to the customer and took payment before giving Hayley her attention. She flicked back an abundance of curls and smiled at Hayley.
‘Artie’s married, by the way,’ the girl told her.
‘Oh,’ Hayley said. ‘I wasn’t thinking of hitting on him.’ She slipped her phone from her pocket and tapped the screen until the photo she’d taken of the photo of Michel was displayed. ‘I’m looking for someone.’ She turned the screen to the bartender. ‘His name’s Michel De Vos. He, er, we met here ten years ago and I’m trying to find him.’
The girl took the phone from Hayley and studied the photo up close. Hayley swallowed as she watched the woman taking in the picture. There was no look of recognition on her face but that didn’t stop the whirling sensation in Hayley’s stomach from taking hold.
‘I’ve seen him in here,’ the girl said finally, passing the phone back. ‘His hair’s the same.’
Hayley fought to get her words out over the knot that had strangulated her vocal cords. ‘What? When?’
The girl took another order and began swirling vodka into the cocktail shaker. ‘A month ago? Maybe more. ’
She couldn’t believe it. A month ago. Michel was in New York . She wet her lips. ‘Are you sure?’
The barwoman nodded. ‘Yeah, he came in every night for a couple weeks. Sometimes, he sat here at the bar. Said he was an artist.’ The girl smiled. ‘Probably just a line.’
Tension flooded her gut. If only she had been as streetwise as this girl in 2005. The bartender made to move off, shaking the mix of drinks up.
‘Wait,’ Hayley said. She grabbed a paper coaster. ‘Have you got a pen?’
‘One second.’ The barwoman poured the drink into a long glass, added an umbrella, a cherry and a slice of pineapple and finally a straw. It didn’t look dissimilar to the cocktail Coke Angel had made with Vernon.
The girl passed a pen over and Hayley grabbed it like it was an antidote to a lethal snakebite. She began writing furiously on the paper coaster until the whole circle was full.
‘If you see him again…’ She paused to take a breath. ‘These are all my contact details.’ She held on as the girl took hold of the paper. ‘Could you tell him Hayley Walker, the girl in the pink dress who liked fashion, really needs to see him again?’
The bubbling in her stomach was like a chemical experiment where no one knew quite what was going to happen. Hayley finally relinquished the paper and smiled at the bartender. ‘Thank you.’ She stepped back from the bar, a little light-headed. She let the music seep into her, gently allowing her eyes to get used to the strobe and glitter ball reflections. If Michel was here a month ago, he could still be here now. Angel might just get her wish. And how Hayley felt about that, she still didn’t really know.