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'M' is For: Chapters 0-3
🕑 Added 2024-09-23 11:00:09 +0000 UTCThanks for the votes!! Guess we're doing this :) This update covers the same ground as the patron-exclusive preview, but I am converting to native Patreon text for consistency with future updates. The story will update daily through 9/27 to give Patreon that 2-week headstart.
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0. Missy London
Her name was Melissa London, but everyone called her Missy. Friends and enemies alike, she’d say with a laugh. Her laugh was infectious; it made you want to laugh along, to be a part of her delight. Even toward the end, when things started falling apart, I was helplessly drawn to her. How could I not be? That was just the kind of person Missy was.
I noticed Missy before we ever had our first conversation after barre class. I hadn’t experienced yet the full power of her charms, but she had the kind of prettiness that made you want to sneak a second glance. She was tall and thin—nearly five-foot-nine—and she managed her height with a sort of easy grace that made her stand out from the sweaty gaggle of office workers and students who’d committed to an evening barre class in the beginning swells of summer.
Missy almost never came to class alone. She had a rotation of girlfriends who joined her, all equally fit and pretty with crop-tops and expensive leggings that squeezed their toned thighs in just the right way. But there was something about Missy that, even in the company she kept, made her stand out. Maybe it was the flash of keen intelligence in those light blue eyes, or the sly smile that suggested she knew everyone’s darkest desires. Whatever it was, I found myself unable to look away from her.
On the subway ride home after my first class, tired and aching and stressed about work the next day, I couldn’t help but wonder about Missy. Who was she? Where did she come from? What would it be like to be one of her friends?
As the old adage goes, I should have been careful what I wished for.
1. The Big City
Before I got involved with Missy, I’d lived a pretty uneventful life. The middle child of a school teacher and a biomedical engineer, I grew up in upstate New York and dreamed of traveling around the world. I’d inherited my mother’s auburn hair and pale complexion, but in personality, I took more after my bookish dad. Despite being quiet and shy, the cool kids in school mostly left me alone thanks to my more popular siblings, and I went to college full of big dreams for the future.
When I graduated with an English degree and no job offers, I was forced to face a far less rosy reality. My ambition of becoming a travel journalist or a cultural anthropologist abandoned by the wayside, I moved back home to figure out my next move. There I got into a relationship with a guy named Brett, and after a hellishly messy break-up, all but fled to New York City with what little money I’d saved. After working a series of dead-end jobs, I finally managed to land a gig as a content writer for a startup and started to try to pull my life together.
That first year, I hated everything about the city. The loud, pushy crowds; the outdated, cramped subway; that trash-mixed-with-food smell that hung in the air whenever the temperature rose above the 80s—I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t know anyone, and the online dating scene proved to be a complete bust. I felt like a complete hack at my job, churning out search engine-optimized articles and blog posts for my company’s line of software products. At least my two roommates, whom I found on Craigslist, were far nicer than I expected.
Then one mild spring morning, I had a revelation. It came upon me suddenly as I was walking down 5th Avenue after yet another crippling subway delay. The day had started off gray and nippy, but as I stepped onto the crosswalk, the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the whole city. Everything from the concrete sidewalks to the steel skyscrapers was bathed in a pale golden light, and I saw my surroundings with new eyes. All my life I had dreamed of an opportunity to make something of myself. And sure, maybe I wasn’t on the same path to success that my earlier self had envisioned, but I had made it to the Big Apple all the same. I was surrounded by opportunity, and all I needed was to stop feeling sorry for myself and seize it.
“Hey, ma’am, do you have a moment for world peace?” called out a volunteer as I approached the other side of the street. He could have been my age. His lips were pulled into a determined grimace, and he wielded his clipboard like a battle ax that might chop through the infamous New York indifference. On his white shirt was emblazoned a logo of stick figure people standing on a globe and holding hands.
Normally I would have muttered an apology and hurried past this intrepid canvasser, but instead, I smiled at him. “Sure. Why don’t you tell me about your organization?”
My newfound optimism stayed with me all the way to the office. The crosswalk lights all seemed to turn just as I reached the curb, giving me an uninterrupted path, and the coffee shop around the corner from my office actually remembered my name. Smiling to myself, I had just stepped into my office building’s elevator when a man’s voice cried, “Please hold the door!” Instinctively, I stuck out my hand to keep the doors from closing, and the most attractive man I had ever seen in my life stepped in to join me.
Don’t be weird, I remember thinking to myself nervously. He was too tall and too handsome, with a clean-shaven face and black-framed glasses. He looked like a high-fashion eyewear model, or a lean Clark Kent. He had exactly the kind of tousled dark hair that a woman dreamed of running her fingers through, all while whispering unspeakably naughty things into his ear. I could imagine the kind of person a guy like that went for, and it definitely wasn’t someone like me.
To my surprise, however, this insanely good-looking man gave me a shy smile.
“Thanks,” he said. “I hate to be that guy, but I’m running a little late for my job interview…”
“Ah, okay,” I said. I sounded like a complete dolt. Desperately, I searched my mind for something else to say to smooth over my inane reply. “D-did you have train problems?”
“Yeah. The track work they’re doing really messed up my calculations.”
“Same here. Too bad we can’t just swing through the streets like Spider-Man, right? Fwwwwt. Fwwwt. Like that, or something.” The words were out of my mouth, my hands halfway extended in prime Spidey web-shooting fashion, before I caught up to what I was doing. I felt my face flush a deep pink and quickly lowered my arms, but the man laughed like he actually thought I was funny and not totally off my rocker.
“Right? That would be great! I’d never take the train again.”
Despite my mortification, I felt my mouth tugging into a smile. “You could use it to beat the lunch crowds, too,” I pointed out.
“Or catch the free concerts in Central Park.”
“That’s good. Or get a good spot for, like, the New Year’s Eve Ball Drop.”
“Yeah, but no one in their right mind goes to that.”
We grinned rather foolishly at each other, enjoying the unexpected kinship. Around us, I noticed the other people in our elevator stealing furtive glances at the stranger, and I felt a little comforted that this was a perfectly normal response to an attractive man and I wasn’t just desperately single.
I got off the elevator before he did. He moved aside to let me through. Just as the doors began to close, he called out, “Have a good one!”
“Thanks! Good luck with the interview!” I managed to return. Then the doors closed, and the man was gone.
“New friend?” smirked Kathy, the new office admin, from behind me. She was fresh out of college, hired because she knew someone high up at the company. With an AirPod constantly jammed in her ear, she gave the impression that she didn’t much care what other people were up to. Toward me in particular, she made no pretense of hiding her disdain.
“Haha…yeah, I guess,” I said, but she’d already stopped paying attention to me and was checking her phone.
Not even Kathy could dampen my spirits today. I felt electrified and high on adrenaline, like I had only just now noticed I had been running a race and passed the finish line. I was ready to write the best goddamn blog posts of my career. I had never really been one to fall in love at first sight. At least not since middle school, when Brandon Cartwright rejected me in front of the entire 7th grade class and crumpled my painstakingly composed love letter into a little ball. But that Monday morning at 9:19 am, I had fallen a little bit in love with a man whose name I didn’t even know.
That very evening, I scheduled a long-overdue haircut at a salon I found on Yelp and enrolled in a local barre class I’d seen advertised on the side of a bus stop. I told myself that these were all normal, healthy things to do regardless. They had nothing to do with encountering that devastating man in the elevator. After all, what were the chances I’d ever see him again?
One in a million, at best.
2. No Good Deed
I was nearly a month into my barre classes when I finally had the chance to talk to Missy.
The size of the class was just large enough that you could easily get away with keeping to yourself, and my general MO was to get in and get out as speedily as possible. I might cast a quick smile to a fellow classmate, but I’d considered myself shy all my life and was uncomfortable striking up conversations with others. Besides, I rationalized, I didn’t have time to hang around and socialize after class. If I hurried, I could just make the express train back to my apartment in Brooklyn.
It was after class on a Tuesday night, and I was in the process of doing just that. Having shrugged on my rain jacket and wrangled my sweaty hair into a messy ponytail, I was going down the stairs when I saw Missy’s unmistakable figure stopped at the doorway. It was unusual to see her without her girl friends. Looking past her shoulder, I could see that the day’s rain had not let up. It was coming down in thick, heavy sheets, overflowing the potholes and gutters along the sidewalks and turning them into dirty brown rapids.
“Please, go ahead,” Missy said, noticing me. She took a quick step back from the doorway, tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “I’m just waiting until it lets up a little.”
Before my mind had caught up with my mouth, I found myself turning to her and saying, “I’ve got an umbrella. If you’re headed toward 42nd, we can walk over together.”
“Oh no, that’s really alright.” Missy waved it off gamely. “I can wait it out.”
“Really, it’s no trouble at all!” I insisted.
Missy flashed a grin. Her smile was just a little lopsided, with an appealing self-deprecating humor in its edges that shot straight through me like a lance. I felt my heart inadvertently skip a beat. “You’re too sweet! Well then, if you’re sure.”
It wasn’t the easiest thing to share an umbrella with someone who had a good five inches on me. I did my best to keep my umbrella extended well above her head, but despite my best efforts, we both got drenched. I could feel the water soak through my sneakers to my toes, and my whole left side was as wet as if someone had aimed a hose at me. It didn’t help that I had to hop and scramble to keep up with Missy’s long stride as she confidently set off down the street.
Missy, I soon realized, had her attention on other things.
“Oh, look!” she exclaimed after no more than half a block. I followed her gaze to a little restaurant with a light-up neon sign that read LA CASITA. “That used to be a sushi restaurant until they closed a few months ago. I didn’t realize they were putting a Mexican restaurant there instead!”
Missy turned toward me, and I was startled to see her eyes sparkling with adventure. “What do you say we check it out? Unless you have other plans?”
I had had plans to go home, shower off, and maybe get a little reading in before going to sleep, but somehow that didn’t seem like the sort of thing that I ought to admit. “No, I’m free,” I said instead, my heart beating quickly.
“Perfect, we’ve got a plan—” Missy paused. “What is your name?”
“It’s Mallory.”
Missy extended a tanned, manicured hand, and I shook it. “Mallory, it is so nice to meet you.”
❖❖❖
That whole first night, I marveled that this beautiful, sophisticated woman had chosen me as her companion for this adventure. She actually seemed interested in what I had to say, and I felt gratified whenever I was able to make her laugh freely. I told her a little bit about myself, how I had moved to the city less than a year ago and had just started classes at the studio. But I was much more interested in hearing her story.
I learned that Missy had been born in New Jersey but raised in North Carolina. She had an older brother and several step-siblings, only one of whom she felt particularly close to. She had always wanted to move to California, but life—and a string of exes—brought her instead to Paraguay, Scotland, and finally New York City, where she’d landed her first modeling gig. Now, she worked at a magazine as a style editor and took fashion design classes on the side, though, she confided, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to stay in fashion at all. “Everyone,” Missy said with a droll eye roll, “is a shallow, cut-throat little bitch.”
The women I’d seen Missy hanging out with before and after class were friends she’d made outside of the studio. Kiara was in her fashion design class. Adrienne she knew from back home and had reconnected with at a party. Danielle was another friend she had first met at a party, and it was Danielle who had been the one to recommend the studio to Missy.
“Do you go to a lot of parties, then?” I asked Missy.
“Oh, not many… But every now and then, I do like to throw a good book club.” Missy gave a little smile.
“A book club!” That caught me by surprise. Somehow Missy didn’t strike me as the kind of person to organize a book club. “That’s great. I wish I could keep up with my reading.”
Missy threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, yes, we do our best to stay on top of it.”
Drinks after barre class became a weekly tradition. Missy introduced me to her friends, and usually at least two or three of us would head over to La Casita after class to hang out. I liked Kiara, who was sweet and bubbly. Danielle and Adrienne, however, were another story. The two of them ignored me whenever we were together. If I asked either of them a question, I’d be lucky to get a scrap of an answer before they switched to talking to one of the others. It was snobbish behavior that brought me back to high school, and I couldn’t help but feel both resentful and slightly ashamed for not meeting whatever secret standard they had.
Still, Missy always made me feel welcome, making it clear to the others that we had been the ones to discover La Casita and it was our place first. I could never quite figure out what she saw in me, but I was grateful to be a part of her girls’ club. Nestled in a booth with Missy and her friends, enjoying the drinks that we sometimes got for free from the other patrons, I could imagine myself as someone different. Someone who was confident in herself and successful in her life. Someone who didn’t have to pay for her drinks because someone she’d never met before thought she was hot.
It was not a bad feeling at all.
3. The Perfect Man
From our conversations over cocktails, I knew that Missy had a boyfriend she’d been seeing for the past year. She mentioned him occasionally, always with pride and affection. One weekend, he served her a candlelit dinner that he had cooked himself. Another, he’d arranged a beach getaway with some good friends she hadn’t seen in a while. He showered her with flowers and jewelry on special occasions and gave her chocolates on a whim—an excess of romance that Missy loved to mock-disapprove.
“It’s really too sweet of him,” Missy would say, shaking her head. “It’s not like he makes that much money between his modeling and part-time work.”
In my head, he was the Ken to her Barbie: tall, tanned, and athletic, with a confident, outgoing personality to match Missy’s own. I was eager to meet him in person to see how he measured up to the stories Missy told. Had someone wooed me the way he wooed Missy, I would have found it incredibly overwhelming, but it seemed fitting for someone dating Missy. I could tell even in the short time that I’d known her that she had an appreciation for dramatic flair, and nothing delighted her more than being surprised.
One evening in May, after we had just secured ourselves a booth by the window at La Casita, Missy’s phone lit up and buzzed.
“Sorry, one second,” Missy said hastily, grabbing it. “It’s Thomas.”
“Aww the bae!” gushed Kiara. “Go for it!”
Missy was already bent over her phone, quickly typing out a message. A few moments later, the phone buzzed again. Missy looked up at us.
“Is it okay if Thomas joins us? He just got out of work and hasn’t eaten yet.”
“Yeah, of course,” said Adrienne, reaching for a taco chip. “It’s been a minute since I’ve seen him.”
“I want to know how his new job is going,” added Danielle in a drawl. “Tell him he’d better be prepared to dish.”
Missy beamed. “Perfect. I’ll let him know.”
Fifteen minutes later, Thomas arrived…and, because fate had a twisted sense of humor, he turned out to be the same man I’d met in the elevator just a few weeks ago.
❖❖❖
He was dressed more casually this time in a charcoal-gray tee and dark fitted jeans cuffed at the bottoms to reveal Converse sneakers. It took me a second to place him because gone were the glasses I remembered him wearing when we met. Then memory snapped into place, and my heart gave a leap of recognition. His choice of clothes looked good on him. Too good. I caught myself staring and dragged my gaze away as Missy jumped to her feet and pulled him into a kiss.
“Hey,” Thomas said to Missy as they broke apart. “Thanks for letting me join—” He stopped short, recognizing me.
“Hello,” I said with an awkward smile.
Missy’s eyebrows shot up into her forehead. “Have you two met?”
“Yeah, your friend was in the elevator the day I came in for my interview.” Thomas smiled at me with the same touch of shyness that I remembered. “It’s all thanks to you that I got the job.”
“Oh, I seriously doubt that,” I said weakly, devastated by his smile. “But congratulations.”
“No way, that’s like fate!” said Kiara, scooting down on the bench to make room for them, margarita in hand. “I love that, ohmygosh.”
Missy and Thomas sat down, and Thomas put his arm around Missy. Not possessively, but like it was second nature to him, as unthinking a gesture as scratching an itch. I felt something stir within me. Maybe envy? Everything that my ex had done in public had been a calculated move to assert his dominance. We’d never, even when it was just the two of us, had that kind of casual affection.
“I ordered you fish tacos,” Missy was saying. “I figured you’d like those the best. They come with a chipotle aioli sauce that is to die for.”
“Thanks, that sounds great,” Thomas said. “I’m starving.”
Missy playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Please tell me you had lunch today. Just because they keep you busy all day doesn’t mean you get to skip meals.”
“I know, I know,” Thomas said with the air of someone who was thoroughly incorrigible. I bit back a smile.
“So what was that job you interviewed for?” I asked him.
“It was for an office assistant position,” Thomas said. “They basically needed someone to sit around all day answering phones. At least the pay isn’t bad.”
“It’s harder than he makes it sound,” Missy informed us. “He’s the one who has to deal with all the entitled assholes who call the front desk and expect to talk to the CEO just because they asked.”
Thomas opened his mouth, but just then the waiter arrived with our order, and the conversation temporarily halted as we dug in. Newly self-conscious with Thomas there, I also discovered that tacos are actually pretty difficult to eat once you actually start paying attention. Did the taco shell always break like that, dropping stuffing with each bite? I couldn’t remember for the life of me, but it felt personal.
“Do you have anything special planned for the long weekend?” Missy asked me, leaning against Thomas’s shoulder as she picked off the chips on her plate.
“Uh, no, not really,” I said. “I was going to maybe clean up my apartment and run some errands. What about you all?”
Missy swiped some guac with a chip and popped it into her mouth. “A bunch of our friends got a house in the Hamptons with a pool and everything. Everyone here is going, except for Adrienne.”
“Work’s a bitch, but what are you going to do?” sighed Adrienne, running her long acrylic nails through her caramel highlights.
“Oh shut up,” Danielle said, rolling her eyes. “No one feels sorry for you, having to fly out to Paris.”
“A house in the Hamptons sounds nice,” I said. “How did you decide on that?”
“The guy who owns it is a friend of Missy’s dad, and offered it to her for free,” Kiara told me gleefully. “Missy, show her the photos. The house also has a hot tub and a sauna. It’s absolutely insane.”
“Or better yet,” Missy said, “you could join us.”
Everyone sitting around the table swiveled around to stare at Missy with mutual expressions of shock and surprise. With a pang, I realized in that moment just how much of an outsider I was to their little group despite the time we’d spent together.
“Mallory?” said Adrienne to Missy with open incredulity. “Really?”
“Oh, you guys, stop looking at me like that,” Missy exclaimed in exasperation, rolling her eyes. “Why not? You aren’t going, so we’ve got the extra bed. And I think Mallory would have a great time.”
“Er, it’s fine,” I said. “I don’t want to impose, really.” Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. The house sounded great and all, but I had never been big on pool parties. It was bad enough to go swimming on family vacations and hear my mom’s well-meaning but pointed remarks about how I needed to drop a few pounds. I definitely wasn’t ready to do it all weekend with Missy and her circle of perfectly put-together friends.
“It won’t be like that at all!” cried Missy, interrupting my train of thought. “You’ve already met Danielle and Kiara. There’ll just be a couple others, and I promise you’ll love them!” Missy grabbed my hands in hers. Her hands were warm and soft around my fingers. “Mal, you’re like one of my best friends now. Didn’t you say you wanted this to be the year you tried new things and put yourself out there?”
“Well, uh…” I stammered, my heart thudding my chest. I couldn’t help but glance at Thomas. A slight crease had appeared between his brows, but he didn’t say anything.
“Come on,” pleaded Missy, drawing my attention back to her. “Please. Pretty please. Mal, sweet Mal, say yes!”
“Okay, okay,” I gave in, laughing nervously. “I’ll go.” I could feel my face turning beet red from all the attention, something Kiara was quick to point out to the others. They laughed at my expense, and I snatched up my drink like a lifeline. Fortunately, the conversation soon moved on past me.
I lost track of what they were talking about. My mind had fallen into a chaotic swirl of thoughts as trepidation warred with excitement. I was going on a weekend trip with Missy to the Hamptons! I had never been to that part of New York before and only knew what I had heard from others. I had visions of pristine beach cottages and small boutiques, of new world wealth and haughty manners. I wondered what the other friends Missy was inviting would be like, and whether we’d get along.
For better or worse, I was now committed. Whatever happened next, I knew without a doubt that the weekend would be one I’d never forget. I only hoped I didn’t disappoint.
