Chapter 16 #2
Josie couldn’t stand it. It was past seven, and she’d been sitting for almost two hours, obsessing.
She grilled chicken and veggies for dinner and ate in front of a recorded episode of Outlander.
Things could be worse. She hadn’t gotten stuck in a different time entirely, hundreds of years ago.
She was still in the same century, the same kind of world. Her favorite TV shows to distract her.
She’d make it work. She had to.
For now.
* * *
Josie bit her lip and picked up the handset of her cubicle’s phone.
She missed having a private office to make calls in, but at least nobody was paying her attention.
Abby usually made bookings, but this was one she wanted to do herself.
She dialed the number from the results of the online search on her computer screen.
“B+B Developments, how may I direct your call?” a chirpy female voice asked her.
“Hi, yeah, this is Josie Cavendish of Talk New York. Could I speak to, to Robert Billing’s office, please?”
She winced. Could she really do this?
“One moment.”
An agonizing few seconds passed a voice she recognized came on the line.
“Robert Billing’s office, how may I help you?”
It was Dolores, Rob’s faithful assistant since years before Josie came along.
“Oh hi, D — hi there. My name is Josie Cavendish and I’m the host of the Open House radio show on Talk New York.
I was wondering . . . that is, I’d like to invite Mr. Billing into the station to be a live guest on the show one morning, if he’s interested?
I understand the Cav — the Union House building has sold its last unit and the company is starting a Tribeca project.
I’m sure the listeners would be very interested in . . .” she trailed off.
“Sure, I’ll pass that invitation on to him. He’ll want to run it by our PR manager, so she’ll be in touch. Can I get a number or email?”
“Right, sure. It’s usually my producer, Abby Crawford, who does the guest bookings, so let me give you her details, and if your PR manager could email her and copy me, that would be perfect.”
Josie reeled off the contact details then hung up, her heart racing. She’d done it. Really done it.
She bit her lip. Was she being stupid? But it was the only legitimate way she could think of to meet Rob and talk to him, to figure out if anything could happen between them.
But he had a girlfriend, a stunning one, and he didn’t know Josie at all.
Why would he be interested in her after one radio interview?
Then she remembered the look they’d exchanged as he sat at that piano in the W Hotel lobby. He’d fallen in love with her before, almost instantaneously. He could do it again. It was surely worth a shot?
Josie looked at her phone — it was after five.
Everyone in the station was wrapping up, apart from the evening producers and a couple of others.
She had to be on the Lower East Side for rehearsal by six.
The sidewalks were horribly icy, so she wanted to give herself time, and it had been too dangerous to commute on the new pale-gray bike she’d bought herself last week.
She bundled up and made her way unsteadily to the subway at 32nd, taking the train five stops south.
The rehearsal space was walkable from there, but she wasn’t taking any chances on the streets, so she transferred to get to the nearest station.
As she passed a busker on the platform singing “It’s Cold Outside”, she wondered what had become of the holiday party she and Angela had arranged for Halstein & Faust and B+B, just two blocks away at Lafayette Restaurant.
They had probably gone ahead with it. Angela was likely H&F’s comms manager in this world, since Josie was not. She should call Angela and invite Hans to come on her show, too. That’d be a blast.
Josie laughed out loud as she pushed onto the packed F train, startling a woman squeezing on next to her. She smiled at the woman, sheepish, then giggled again.
She could really mess with people’s heads — Rob, Hans, Mike, Josh, everyone. She knew so much about them, and they didn’t know her at all. But the thought saddened Josie as quickly as it had amused her. The people she loved didn’t know her.
She exited the subway at Essex Street and treaded carefully down the slippery sidewalk to the church that rented the choir their rehearsal space. Inside, it was far too hot, and she stripped off her puffy coat and long cardigan, finding a clip to lift her hair and cool the back of her neck.
With members running late because of the roads, only a few others had arrived.
She vaguely recognized the tall guy who had been texting her, Peter, setting up chairs under the watchful eye of the director.
He paused, a chair in each hand, and caught Josie’s eye.
He walked toward her, a little too close, putting a chair down next to her.
“You missed a bit.” Peter reached up, taking a stray, damp strand of Josie’s hair in his fingers, adding it to the ponytail she’d just made. His hand grazed her neck as he did so.
Their eyes met. Josie stepped back from him, surprised, suddenly aware of her bare arms and dewy décolletage.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“You’re welcome.” He gave a small smile, then broke eye contact, and continued to arrange chairs.
It was an overly familiar gesture from someone whom, as far as Josie was concerned, she had only met once.
It had been during intermission at the choir’s concert last summer, which she and Rob attended.
She remembered Lisa introducing them to Peter and a beautiful Black woman called Michelle, who seemed to be his partner.
He’d said he was a videogame designer and part-time musician, but that was all she knew of him.
Aside from what was in their recent texts, of course.
Josie concentrated on singing, which she found invigorating and calming at the same time, forgetting about the exchange.
But at the break she was distracted by Peter as he chatted with the basses on the other side of the room.
He was looking right at her — almost as though he were talking about her.
Josie turned away. Sure, he was attractive, in a geek-chic kind of way, with that tall, lanky stance, the sandy complexion and those black-framed glasses. But Josie was married. Sort of.
She stepped toward Lisa to find her friend looking between Josie and Peter and back again.
“Hey,” Lisa breathed, close to Josie’s ear. “Peter can’t stop staring at you. Like, not even hiding it!” She leaned around Josie to examine him again.