Apologies for the lack of updates. Once again, I've made a trip up north and am currently staying with a friend in New York City.
Am I selfish for dreaming that one day I'll have homes in both New York and Miami?
I know this drives non-New Yorkers crazy, but there is something magical about the Big Apple. I love it -- its rudeness, its size, its impatience with those who don't know their way. Like any other major city, one can't help but stumble upon landmarks throughout the day. Thus far it's been the Empire State Building, The Dakota Building in Central Park, and of course Times Square.
This trip was to scope out possible apartments, both within Manhattan as well as Brooklyn and even across the bridge in New Jersey. I hadn't planned on meeting with my future employers, but when they called my phone to touch base, I told them I was actually in the city. I was honestly surprised when they invited me to a late lunch.
"So nice to see you again," said the owner, a petite, thin, beautiful woman with enough diamond jewelry to make any woman envious. "Enjoying your time up north?"
"Absolutely," I replied. "Especially during this time of year, when everything is in bloom. Miami will start to get gross in a couple of weeks."
She nodded in recognition. "I grew up in [a southeastern city also known for its humidity] and I definitely don't miss it during this time of year. During the winter, sure. But not during the spring or fall."
We continued to talk, the owner and I. Her business parter had, well, business to attend to, so it was just the two of us. Relax -- nothing inappropriate and/or sexual happened. We were in a restaurant, for God's sake. If there's anything that being an escort for two years has taught me, it's that even if she did want sex, she'd want to finish her meal first.
"I'm sorry, I don't remember -- were you born in Florida?"
"Oh, no," I said. "I'm from __________ but ended up in Florida for school."
"I'm surprised you could keep your head on straight and graduate on time. Florida is a fun place to vacation, but to study..."
"Well, I graduated on-time and didn't flunk any classes, so that's a plus."
Our food arrived, and the Italian place we met at was delicious. I know I ramble a bit about food on this blog, but really, this place was great. Far better than anything I've tasted in Florida. Perhaps that's because there were actual Italians in the kitchen this time around.
"Do you like diamonds?"
"I'm sorry?" I didn't think I misheard her, but I didn't trust my own ears. Why would she be bringing up precious stones?
"Diamonds," she repeated. "Jewelry, really. You see, I had an idea..."
All I can say is that once I join the firm, I will be working with a jeweler. A pretty prominent one, actually, but let me say right now that it's not Tiffany & Co. This place is younger, newer, with a rather unique angle as to how they sell their products. I accepted the account -- not that I had any real choice -- and am currently researching diamonds and gems as best I can.
Glamorous as all this sounds, there did come an awkward moment later on. When the check arrived, I instinctively reached for it and took out my credit card to pay. The boss smiled, then promptly snatched it back from me and insisted she pay the bill. No ifs, ands, or butts. It was her invitation, after all.
"I'll leave the tip, then," I said, and put a few bills on the table. "Our waitress was cute."
"Was she?"
"I mean, not that I... It's not like I was checking her out the whole time."
The boss smiled. "In fact, you were. Still, I don't blame you. I'd have a go with her myself."
Honest to God, that's what she said. Why she said it I have no idea. Was it a joke I failed to pick up on? A declaration of lesbianism or bisexuality? More than anything, how the hell do I manage to keep getting myself into these situations?
In any event, I'm off to prowl the streets and probably pick up an Italian Gelato. On a night as beautiful as this, I can't think of a better plan.
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