Chapter 24
NEW YORK OPEN-TOP BUS TOUR
With bright lights and glaring billboards, streams of people on the sidewalk and lines of traffic down every street, New York came to life at night and now, as Christmas approached, there was the sound of festive music in the air along with the scent of steaming hotdogs and car exhausts.
It had been a quick escape from the hotel room after Gabriella and Phoebe had got back from Zeeta Friedmann.
The talk show had been a success. Gabriella felt she had been lively and entertaining, she had listened and engaged with the other guests on the sofa alongside her and she had dropped the name of the book into conversation the requisite three times like she was calling Beetlejuice.
And all this despite being persistently jabbed by something in her side.
She had checked her wound in the suite, redressed it, then changed into jeans and a jumper.
Back in the janitor’s cupboard with Luca she hadn’t had the chance to really process what had happened, but at the hotel, looking at the cut that, thankfully, wasn’t deep enough to warrant stitches, she had questions.
What exactly had cut into her? Was it something in the fabric?
Part of the construction of the outfit? And, if not, how had it got there?
With no answers yet she had rapidly refocussed.
So, having left Cheyenne making dinner reservations she and Phoebe were never going to turn up at, here they were, twenty minutes into an open-top bus tour of the city.
It was freezing. They were almost the only ones in the outside section, but it was all so spectacular.
‘Look over there! Pink lights!’ Gabriella said, pointing with a gloved hand at some of the bright bulbs of Broadway. ‘And almost a life-size moving billboard of Post Malone.’
‘Shh,’ Phoebe said. ‘I’m trying to listen to the guide.’
‘She’s very good,’ Gabriella admitted. ‘Any second now I’m thinking she’ll give us the gruesome intel on murders gone by.’
‘Eww,’ Phoebe said, recoiling a little in her position next to Gabriella. ‘I’m enjoying the non-grisly history.’
‘Most of history is grisly.’
‘No, that’s just the parts you remember,’ Phoebe stated.
‘Great Fire of London, grisly. Guy Fawkes, grisly. Battle of Hastings, 1066, grisly. And that’s basically all I got taught.’
‘No, that’s all you remember. Mum told me all about the Suffragettes.’
‘One of them ran in front of horses racing. Grisly.’
‘She told me that they were strong women like her sister. Like you,’ Phoebe stated.
Gabriella swallowed. ‘Well, we also know your mum loved stories with happy, uplifting endings and characters you can root for.’ She took a sip through the straw of the large McDonald’s Coke she was holding.
’ I don’t think I’m anywhere near as strong as any of those women who fought for the right to vote. ’
‘Mum always said you were the strongest woman she knew.’
‘Well,’ Gabriella said. ‘Your mum had a small close circle of friends and Grandmama so, very little competition.’
‘She also said you can never take a compliment and she’s right about that. But,’ Phoebe said, biting into her cheeseburger. ‘I’m going to say it anyway. I thought you were amazing on the show.’
Gabriella went to say she hadn’t been amazing but instead she put her mouth around the straw again and paused for a minute.
Despite being nervous, despite something digging into her side the second she had sat down on the famous sofa, despite wearing something so out of her comfort zone fashion wise she’d felt like she was Vivienne Westwood’s new guinea pig, the interview had thankfully been another day at the office.
She’d kept her cool, she’d kept emotion out of it and she had stroked her hand over the green-coloured cover like it was something she would cuddle up in bed with.
She took the straw out of her mouth as the bus picked up a little pace and the guide began to talk about the Bank of America tower that was coming up. ‘Thank you.’
‘And you looked like a model in the dress,’ Phoebe continued.
‘Pah! I’m not accepting that compliment. Victoria’s Secret will not be calling any time soon.’
‘No, I’m serious,’ Phoebe said, a slice of gherkin between her fingers. ‘You looked like a super-hot business woman who might also ninja kick you if you spoke out against her beliefs.’
‘Thanks,’ Gabriella said. ‘I think.’
‘So, will Luca be styling you for the next event?’
‘I guess so.’
‘I like him.’
‘Good. I mean, if you didn’t like him I don’t think Cheyenne would fire him anyway but…
’ She stopped talking. But she could probably have got him fired over whatever had ended up in her dress, no matter how it had got there.
Then again, he could have dobbed her in over the water bottle incident and he hadn’t.
That she knew of. Maybe it was one-all. Kind of.
‘So, you like him?’ Phoebe asked.
‘Shall we listen to the guide? I don’t want to miss the grisly sections.’
Phoebe grinned. ‘You’re changing the subject. You’ve answered my question.’
‘What? No.’
‘There’s no need to get weird about it. You are allowed to like people you know.’
‘I do like people,’ Gabriella said. ‘I like Santa Claus when he brings me gifts and I like… um… well… I totally like David Attenborough. What a guy!’
‘I meant liking guys. Like liking guys.’
And already, even though it was minus figures temperature, Gabriella was starting to get a body sweat from the direction of the conversation and she could feel her wound twinging. This was not a discussion she wanted to be having with her sixteen-year-old niece…
‘I know you like him because you’ve not been totally obnoxious to him yet. You’re obnoxious to most people. Not that it isn’t a strength in some cases but—’
‘I’m not obnoxious to most people. I just have boundaries and some people violate them by—’
‘Breathing?’ Phoebe suggested.
‘That’s over dramatic.’
Phoebe raised an eyebrow and there was such a look of Lulu about her that it squeezed Gabriella’s heart for a second.
‘Anyway, as I was saying, you can tell me if you like a guy or if you’ve been out with a guy or you’re talking on dating apps with a guy or—’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where is this coming from?’ Gabriella asked as the bus turned a corner and they were hit with more New York winter life shining brightly.
‘I just know that being my guardian, as well as my aunt, and a bestselling writer, it’s not easy and it must be hard to find time for you. So, I’m just saying, don’t feel you can’t tell me about who you go to see when you leave the apartment in the middle of the night.’
Gabriella swallowed. Phoebe knew she left the apartment in the middle of the night sometimes. That wasn’t good. But what was the right thing to say here? That she met people for late-night dates? Or that she visited Lulu’s grave with an open-all-hours takeout?
She whispered, ‘And what would you say if I was a secret government operative?’
‘Tom Hiddleston wants his role back.’
Gabriella nudged Phoebe’s arm. ‘There are no guys, Pheebs. I promise. And the middle of the night thing? Sometimes I just can’t sleep so I walk.’
‘In the middle of the night? On your own?’ Now Phoebe looked worried.
‘Always with pepper spray and some intimidating Russian up my sleeve. OK?’ She nudged her arm again.
‘OK,’ Phoebe answered. ‘And, I’m glad there’s no guys in Bettersea.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes, because that means you’re free to get to know your stylist.’
Gabriella shook her head. ‘I have absolutely no time for that. My job here is to sell as many copies of that green book as I can in the hope they have to re-print again and I can demand a different cover. To convert hearts and minds. And to make sure you see everything you want to see in NYC before we have to leave.’
‘Oh, wow,’ Phoebe said as the Empire State Building came into view.
‘Agreed,’ Gabriella said. ‘Now get taking some photos. And, send one to Grandmama. Tell her that’s our hotel.’