Act Two
NEW YORK CITY
Chapter 15
One week before Christmas…
CHASE
Snow falls like drops of powdery sugar on my nose.
Ivy, BB, and I scurry over to the waiting town car, the three of us shivering like a group of unsuspecting tourists. New York cold is a bite to the ass that cuts all the way down to the bone.
“Mr. Hunter, fabulous to see you, sir. Please, allow me to take your bags.” Percy, my dad’s driver, opens the car door. Ivy and I slide in the backseat, seeking refuge from the cold.
While he loads the bags into the trunk, I sneak in a word with Ivy. “Game on. You ready for this?”
Eyes twinkling, she says in a realistic-sounding British accent, “Ready as I’ll ever be, love.” She winks, showing meEvelyn Bloomhas been fully activated.
Impressive.
Percy gets into the car, cranes his head to properly greet us from the driver’s seat. “Welcome home, sir. Is this…”
“Evelyn Bloom, my fiancée,” I say, a surprisingly confident twinge in my voice.
He extends a hand to shake hers. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bloom.”
Ivy smiles, a beautiful sight for all to see. “Oh, no. The pleasure is all mine. Please, call me Evelyn.”
Percy’s eyes glow, seemingly entertained. “You’re from London, I hear. Lovely city, so colorful, and snazzy. What part are you from?”
“The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea.”
Damn, the woman’s good. I’m beginning to question if that sexy British accent of hers is real and American girl is the fake one.
BB pops her head out, fully awake, an excited pant on display. “This is BB, my step-puppy.” Why I decided to call her that, is beyond my comprehension.
Ivy—rather Evelyn—lowers her gaze, cheeks on fire, stifling a giggle.
Percy snickers. “Well, it’s great to meet you too, BB.”
Minutes later, he zips onto Highway 678, toward Park Slope. I’ve lived in my parents’ house since I was born and get a warm, nostalgic feeling each time I return. It’s shortly after 1 p.m., and much like Los Angeles traffic, New York is known for ridiculous jams, even more so when it snows.
“Are you two’s hungry, care to stop for a burger or somethin’?” Percy’s thick, New York accent always takes me back to when I swore he was a mob boss. He’s been driving for my father since I was at least six years old and has even been an accessory to some of my, sneaking-out-of-the-house-when-grounded adventures. Now that I’m older, it feels weird to hear him refer to me as Mr. Hunter.
I’m not hungry, but turn my attention to my fake bride-to-be for an answer.
“No, thank you. However, I am quite parched.”
“Mr. Hunter, I still keep extra water bottles in the under-seat compartment back there. Help yourself, please. We’ll be home soon.”
I bend forward and retrieve two bottles of water, one for Ivy and the other for me.
Then sit back, taking in deep breaths, trying to ward off the anxiety brewing.
* * *
Almost an hour later,when Percy hooks a right onto Sullivan Street, a grin stretches across my face, as I see Mom waving in anticipation as the car rolls up the small driveway. It’s stopped snowing for now, but I know the bitter cold is going to slap me silly, once I step out.
