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One of the local Italian grocers loved to feed tidbits to Spike when Grace wasn’t looking. When it came to food, the cat had no shame.
Vivian’s gaze dropped to her suitcase and carry-on back pack. “If it’s alright with the two of you, I’ll leave you to deal with Spike. I have a flight to catch later this morning, and a billion things to do before then.”
“I wish I was getting on a plane. I miss travelling. You meet the best of people on the road,” lamented Grace.
The two women had met on the platform of a train station in Denmark some three years earlier and been a firm part of each other’s lives ever since.
On her way to the window, Grace stopped and dropped a peck on Vivian’s cheek. “Safe travels hon. See you later in the week. Bring me back some of that Californian sun.”
“SPF 50 sunscreen says otherwise. You know how quickly my pale skin burns,” replied Vivian.
New York in October was actually Vivian’s favorite time of the year. The weather was perfect. The heat of the summer was gone, and the horrid tourist crowds had dropped back to their usual level. Her job as a reviewer for a luxury resort and hotel magazine meant travel, but right now, Vivian would much rather be staying in New York and enjoying the last days of Fall than getting on a plane for the West Coast.
Then again there are those cocktails and warm breezes.
When Grace’s hand settled on Marlon’s firm rounded ass, Vivian took that as her final cue to leave. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the two of them would be heading back to bed, and another round of noisy lovemaking, as soon as Spike had been retrieved.
“I shall see you soon. Oh, and nice to meet you, Marlon.”
She hoisted her backpack onto her back and drew up the handle of her rolling suitcase. It was an easy four minute walk from their building to the 96th Street Station, but at the other end there was a painful ten minute trudge to the company offices which were located in Greenwich Village.
Travel light was Vivian’s personal mantra, but with changes in weather, and a brand new luxury resort to review, she was stuck with having to take check in baggage this trip. Delicate evening wear had a nasty habit of getting crushed when shoved into a backpack along with a laptop, keyboard, and a power strip. Rolling clothes into a pack looked great on Instagram when you were heading off on a hike into the mountains but in reality, it plain sucked. The last thing she wished to be doing at the end of a long day of cross country traveling was to be steaming the creases out of her clothes.
Vivian headed down the stairs and out into the chill of the New York pre-dawn. She had a long day ahead of her.
CHAPTERTWO
Reaching the offices of Luxury Hotels and Resorts Worldwide in Christopher Street, Greenwich Village, Vivian stopped outside on the sidewalk and took a minute to catch her breath. A lick of sweat slid uncomfortably down her back.
I’ve got to exercise more. I’m twenty seven and that short walk shouldn’t have me huffing like I’ve climbed Mount Everest.
She lived a half mile from Central Park, so had few valid reasons for not going for a run or a brisk walk every day. Finding the time in her busy daily schedule to stop and put on her trainers was Vivian’s current pathetic excuse for exercise procrastination. The dark truth was somewhat less glamorous.
Who am I kidding? I’m the problem.I hate all that huffing and puffing.
Trying to keep up with all those lithe runners and power walkers left Vivian with the feeling she was an abject failure. Whenever she measured herself up against the other women of the upper east side, in their two hundred dollar color block leggings, she couldn’t help but come up short.
I’ll get back into yoga. I promise.
At the office front door, she swiped her security card, then dragged her suitcase in. She sent a small prayer of thanks to heaven that her workplace was on the first floor. The elevator which serviced the nineteenth century building had a well-deserved reputation for taking people hostage. From what she had heard, the service company mechanic was on a first name basis with most of the residents of the upper floors.
Luxury Hotels and Resorts Worldwide had a nice ring to it, but the only gloss in its New York office was on the front cover of the monthly magazine. Lionel Miller, her boss, was notoriously cheap. No penny was spent without it being closely scrutinized.
Still, he was a great magazine editor and Vivian was under no illusion that hundreds of other writers and reviewers would give their left arm to be able to set foot in the front door of these dingy offices. Many of her predecessors had gone on to successful careers in the giant media companies located in their bright shiny offices in Lower Manhattan.
As Vivian stepped through the door and into the small, but open plan space, Lionel rose from behind his desk. There was no one else in the office. Most of LHRW’s handful of staff either worked from home or were currently out on assignment. It was rare for more than one or two of them to be in the office at any one time.
“Morning. Did you bring me coffee?”
Vivian dropped her backpack onto the floor beside her suitcase. Righting herself, she took a deep breath. “No, sorry Lionel, I didn’t. Nothing’s open yet.”
I didn’t exactly have a spare hand to carry hot beverages.
The craggy faced Lionel peered at her from over the top of his black rimmed glasses, then hummed. “Where are you off to this morning Vivian?”
She stifled a grin. This was the game her boss played with all the writers on the mornings that they called into the office before setting off on assignment.
“The brand new Royal Resorts Platinum Collection at Laguna Beach, California,” she replied.
