laptop. Was she serious?
‘Yeah, like, so many more than the other Look blogs. Yours is so the best thing on that site.’ She stood up, leaving her coffee cup half empty, behind. ‘I’ve got to run back to the office, but it was so cool to meet you. I hope they print the diary, I’m totally going to email them.’
‘Bye, nice to meet you!’ I called after her. The second she was out of the coffee shop, I was back online. There it was, The Look.com, The Adventures of Angela. And according to the counter, there had indeed been thousands of visitors to the site. Hundreds of thousands. Thousands of people reading about me. It felt out and out weird. And then, when I thought about what I’d written, it felt scary. Forget Alex’s mum, what if my mum read it? And Mark. He had no right to know what I was doing. Who I was doing … The post about my night with Tyler, oh my God. Not good.
While I sat scanning my previous posts, wondering if Mary would let me go back and edit, an email popped up in my inbox from her Look email address.
Angela,
Got today’s entry, really interesting. So did you see the blog is a big success?
Can you make a meeting on Friday? 4.00 p.m. my office.
Thanks, Mary
I pulled out my mobile and hit Alex’s number. It clicked through for a moment giving me just enough time to think and hang up.
He hadn’t called.
Why hadn’t he called?
It had been more than a whole day since I had left his apartment. Instead, I dialled Jenny at work, hoping she had made it to the concierge desk on time.
‘The Union,’ she answered in a sleepy monotone. Still playing sleep catch-up from the night before, clearly.
‘Jenny, it’s me,’ I said quickly, rambling the whole story about the blog and the hits and the redhead fan and Mary’s email, leaving out the part where I faux-called Alex. I had promised not to go into the boy stuff until I’d sorted out the Angela stuff after all.
‘Wow, that’s so cool,’ she yawned. ‘You want to come over here? I’ve got a break in half an hour.’
‘I’m supposed to meet Tyler for dinner,’ I said cautiously. ‘I should probably go and get changed or something.’
‘You should go and buy something fabulous,’ she said, giving me permission to abuse my credit card without even knowing it. ‘Seriously, I’d totally celebrate. And you need more stuff if you’re going to be a celeb.’
‘I really don’t need more stuff!’ I shut down my laptop and placed it back in my (sigh) bag. ‘I think my credit card is about to snap. See you tonight.’
‘You’re not going to stay at Tyler’s?’ she asked. I wasn’t sure if this was a test or not.
‘Don’t think so,’ I said, as offhanded as I could manage. ‘I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow and I’m sort of thinking about breaking it off.’
‘Cool,’ she yawned again. Clearly too tired to be testing me. ‘Well, I’ll be home around midnight. Provided that Disney bee-otch staying in the penthouse doesn’t decide to throw another orgy I have to cover up. See you then?’
‘I love that this is your everyday life. Have you thought about counselling her?’
‘I told her she was worth more when I found her butt naked on the balcony with three of the Gossip Girl cast this morning,’ Jenny sighed. It was a beautiful image. ‘And she told me she was worth exactly seventeen point six million at the last count and could I bring up some clean towels. She’s eighteen. I’ve started to worry about my future as the next Oprah. Oprah wouldn’t want to knock her ass over the balcony.’
‘Try and refrain from manslaughter and remember it’s all material,’ I said, hanging up.
I checked my missed calls list.
Nothing.
I was so annoyed with myself. I really thought I’d got somewhere today and now, here I was, obsessing over why Alex hadn’t called me.
‘Why don’t you just call him?’ asked the little voice in my head. It seemed like a good idea, why didn’t I? Before I had the chance to second guess myself, I dialled and let it ring. And ring. And eventually, go to answer phone.
‘Hi, Alex, it’s Angela, uhhhhh,’ I started. One day I’m going to have the perfect answer phone message. Just not today apparently. ‘I just wondered if you wanted to do something tomorrow, but don’t worry if you’re busy or something. Talk to you later. Bye.’ I hung up and frowned.
Maybe I did need a little bit more stuff.
When Tyler rang my buzzer at seven, Alex still hadn’t called. I refused to think about what that did or didn’t mean and instead, took one last look in the mirror and checked out my make-up. It looked fairly good, better than I would have managed two weeks ago. And my new Nanette Lepore dress was gorgeous. Seriously though, why hadn’t Alex called? I checked my phone once more, then threw it into my (wonderful) bag and walked out of the door.
From the moment I ducked into the cab, I knew I should have cancelled. Tyler was his usual lovely self, asking me questions about my week, which I evaded by bouncing them right back.
‘Same old, same old,’ he smiled easily, directing the taxi driver downtown. ‘Been running a lot, work’s been a pain in the ass the last couple of days. I actually could really use a break. Just a couple of days away somewhere.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, staring out of the window, watching the Washington Square Arch zoom by. ‘It’s good to get away.’
‘You want to do it next weekend?’ he asked, squeezing my hand. He looked immaculate as usual. Yes, he was a city boy like Mark, but the similarities really did start and end there. His hair was ruffled from product, not a slightly off-putting nervous hair-tugging habit and his suit was immaculately cut, and I was fairly certain it wasn’t M&S crease-resistant. It certainly wasn’t machine-washable. ‘My friend has a house in the Hamptons, and he’s going to be away on business. You would love the Hamptons, parties to go to, it’s way cooler than in the city, and there’s the beach. Did you bring a swimsuit?’
‘Oh, uh, swimsuit?’ I asked, caught off guard. I’d been staring at his forearms for just a second too long. Was it wrong to have a fetish for forearms? They were more tanned than Alex’s, but maybe not as nice. Not that I was thinking about Alex. At all. ‘Where are we going tonight?’
‘Oh, Balthazar, it’s great. The moules frites are perfection, and it’s probably just cool enough for you,’ he teased. ‘Been to any gigs lately?’
‘Not since I saw you last.’ I didn’t want to think about gigs.
‘Are you OK?’ Tyler asked as the cab pulled up. ‘You seem a little out of it.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ It hardly seemed fair, mooning over Alex’s forearms when he hadn’t even called, and Tyler was here, taking me out to dinner, offering to take me away for the weekend. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just been thinking about the website and stuff. My editor asked me to come in again, but I don’t really know what for. I suppose I’m a bit worried.’
‘It’s all good though, right?’ he asked, directing me inside. The restaurant was stunning, a packed-out little French bistro, crammed with beautiful people. More Brownie points for another amazing venue. ‘The website thing?’
‘You haven’t looked?’ I was half surprised and entirely relieved. ‘Apparently, it’s doing well.’
‘I