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“Oh yeah,” I stammered. “Oh sorry, wrong card, here, here’s mine,” I said, burrowing in my purse and coming up with my humble AmEx. “Here, take this,” I said, offering it, waving it under her nose.
But my co-worker couldn’t be deterred. She peered at Tucker’s name even more closely, squinting her eyes over her reading glasses.
“Laurie, why do you have this?” she asked. “You know, merchants are supposed to confiscate stolen credit cards,” she said slowly.
“It’s not stolen!” I gasped, color rising to my cheeks. “I have that legitimately.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Tanya skeptically, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, the card still firmly in her grasp. “Honey, they don’t pay us much at HRA but there’s no need to steal,” she said seriously. “I know this divorce has wiped you out but if you need money, I can make you a personal loan.”
I gasped again. How could my friend think I was so down and out, so poor that I’d taken to swiping other people’s stuff? But Tanya just shook her head.
“Honey, like I said, I’ve been divorced twice, and it wiped me out both times,” she said with wryly. “Why do you think I was biking to work for a while? Because my last ex took my car and I had no money for a subway ticket. That’s right, not even five dollars a day for transportation. I had to fucking bike to work last winter, through snow and sleet. I practically got pneumonia.”
Holy cow, I sat back at the table, astounded. Tanya had been so down and out? I hadn’t realized, she’d said she wanted to get in shape and was biking to improve her fitness, I’d never suspected.
“Fuck that,” the blonde said bitterly. “What the fuck. Who wants to bike through snow? I had no money, that was the real reason, ‘my health’ be damned. So tell me why you have this,” she said sternly, shaking the card again. “Seriously girl, if you’re hard-up, I can help. I’ve been saving like mad the last two years.”
I sighed.
“Tan, I would never do that to you because neither of us make much working for the city,” I said wryly. “You need every cent you earn. Webothdo,” I said. “But seriously, the card is legit. It’s owner … is letting me borrow it,” I stumbled, a blush rising to my cheeks.
“Borrow it?” asked Tanya, again staring at me over her glasses. They were funky green today, studded with rhinestones on the sides. “What does ‘borrow’ mean?”
“Well, he, I mean Tucker, is letting me access his credit for the time being,” I said lamely. “You know, I’ll pay him back and stuff.”
But Tanya just shook her head, not believing my lame explanation for an instant.
“Out with it,” she said, her fingers clutched around the card. “I’m looking for an excuse not to go back to work and this is it. So out with it, the whole story,” she commanded.
I shook my head, helpless. I knew my friend. She has a good heart but was like a bloodhound sometimes. Once she had her nose to a scent, she didn’t let go, following a trail relentlessly. So I gave in and told Tanya everything, of how Tucker was my delivery man, how I’d ordered shampoo my first night and slept with him that same night.
“Holy shit,” said Tanya, wrinkling her brow. “You fucked your delivery man without knowing his name?” she asked in a semi-loud voice.
“Shh!” I hushed her, looking around, embarrassed. Fortunately, NYC is a noisy place and no one could hear over the cars rushing past, not to mention the din of other diners’ conversation. “Sort of, well yes, I did,” I admitted.
There was silence for a moment before Tanya whooped.
“You go girl!” she shrieked, reaching out for a high five. I clapped her palm, unsure exactly what she was referring to. But my coworker was only too happy to elucidate.
“Honey, you’re young, you’re pretty, you should have as much hot sex as you can,” she advised, nodding her head approvingly. “Take it from me, I’ve been divorced twice and no guy wants me,” she said. “I’mused.”
I protested, still looking around, hoping no one could hear us. Fortunately, everyone else seemed too into their own conversations to care.
“Tanya, of course men are still interested in you because you’re an attractive woman,” I protested. “You’re only twenty-five! But seriously, can we talk about this later? Not now,” I said in a hushed voice, still looking around furtively.
But unfortunately, my co-worker has never been known for her discretion. Instead, she carried on in a loud voice.
“And rich too, this ‘Tucker McGrath’ is a rich man,” she said out loud, looking at the Visa admiringly again, watching as the sunlight glinted off the metal surface. “Man, you got yourself a good one because only millionaires carry this baby.”
I sat stock still for a moment, unsure of what I’d heard.
“Excuse me?” I asked slowly. “What do you mean, ‘millionaires’?”
Tanya looked up at me.
“Oh Laurie, you’re so naïve,” she cackled. “Seriously, you’ve never seen this card before? Well, I guess not, there aren’t too many people in city government who’d qualify for this gem. This is a J.P. Morgan Palladium card, honey. It’s the real deal. You can only get this if you have ten million under management with the bank.”
I was completely still, completely silent, my heart beating hard.
