Stiletto Safari (4 page)

Even though Emi had had to drag me to yoga, I was pleased I’d come. After the stress and heartbreak of the last two weeks, I needed to get out and do something. Anything. There are only so many days you can spend crying in bed, and I’d definitely exceeded my quota for the year.

The last few weeks had been a nightmarish whirlwind. The day after breaking up with Nick, his story hit the press in earnest. A full-size picture of him and me was splashed over the front of the New York Times business section, with the bold headline “How a Rising Star Fell from Grace.” My name wasn’t mentioned in the article, but my picture was there for all the world to see.

On the upside, I had spoken to the SEC and had been officially cleared of any wrongdoing. It seemed that Nick had devised a trading scam using intel Josh was getting from his parents’ printing press. They were well known around town for printing corporate documents like prospectuses and takeover documents.

I still couldn’t believe Nick had been involved. It made me angry and sad. He’d ruined everything—his life, my life, our relationship—all for a couple of pathetic friends.

A triangle sounded the end of the class. Usually I’d be feeling good and exercise tired by this point, but today I just felt drained and depressed.

Looking around the class, I saw that Emi was rolling up her yoga mat and that Henri seemed to be making a beeline toward her. Typical! Emi always got the hot guys. Not wanting to interrupt, I went into the change room to collect my things. I overheard a number of the other girls happily chatting about how cute Henri was and how amazing his classes were.

After what seemed like an eternity, Emi came and found me. Squeezing my hand, she whispered, “Thanks so much for coming,” before gushing, “Isn’t he totally adorable?”

“Well?” I questioned.

For a moment Emi looked like she wasn’t going to say any more, but then she blurted out, “So Henri has invited me over to his place. He’s going to cook me something French. Isn’t that so sweet?”

“Let me guess, you’re getting a one-on-one yoga lesson after dinner,” I snorted before more graciously adding, “I can’t believe you’re getting a French hottie to cook for you. Nick was a terrible cook; the most I ever got was scrambled eggs.”

“Ah,” said Emi sagely, “but Nick did spoil you with some beautiful things.”

Protectively, I hugged my Jimmy Choo tote to my shoulder. It was just one of the many gorgeous things Nick had bought me. I still couldn’t believe we’d broken up. Deep down I knew it was for the best, but I had these competing emotions raging in me—I missed Nick like crazy on the one hand, but on the other hand, I was still extremely angry that he’d hidden so many things from me. It was this last thought that kept me from calling him, even though, like a deranged stalker, I thought about him pretty much every second of the day.

Emi flicked on her iPhone. “Good,” she said approvingly. “Sal is already at Café Nush and has got us a table.”

Brunch at Café Nush was our Saturday morning ritual (break-ups aside). Even when Sal and I were crazy busy at work and having to do the weekend slog, we always tried to make brunch. It was so nice to catch up and sip lattes, and the organic eggs were to die for.

Sal was already sitting at a window table waiting for us. Her long auburn hair was swept into a ponytail and her pretty lips were pursed in a slight pout as she contemplated something in the paper.

“Sal,” Emi admonished, planting an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “You are way too serious, reading the paper on the weekend! You should have come to yoga with us. You could have met Henri.” Emi beamed at the very mention of his name.

Missing the cue to ask who Henri was, Sal turned to me and looked me up and down. “Wow, you look great considering…”

“What, considering I’ve got no boyfriend, no job, and I’ve hardly gotten out of bed in the last two weeks?” I sounded terse even to myself.

Sal gave me a wounded-dog sort of look.

“Sorry, Sal, I’m still feeling a bit raw at the moment. I haven’t quite come to grips with my crappy new life,” I said, managing a little smile. “Mind you, if Emi and her soon-to-be French lover have their way I’ll be super flexible and feeling positively Zenlike in no time.”

“French lover…mmm, sounds interesting.” Sal turned expectantly to Emi. Of course Emi wasted no time bringing Sal up to speed on Henri’s numerous virtues.

Tuning out, I absent-mindedly flicked through the paper. It was the first time I’d looked at the paper for almost two weeks. I had been trying to avoid all forms of media; I just couldn’t bear reading anything more about the “Manhattan Three,” as Nick, Josh, and Teddy had been dubbed. The press was having a field day and was printing so much crap about Nick it was disgusting.

Besides, I hadn’t needed to read the paper. Emi, my would-be PR rep, was searching all the major papers for photos of me. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any more, although this disappointed Emi. “But in that one shot you looked so glamorous in your LV dress. It really was a pretty photo, at a very flattering angle,” she’d gushed.

The photo she was referring to had been taken outside a fundraising night at the Met. The night had been perfect. As a surprise, Nick had bought me a beautiful floor-length silk gown and matching gold heels. I’d managed to leave work early, which gave me ample time to get my hair, makeup, and nails done. The effort was worth it and we’d had a fabulous night.

Gggrrhhh, there I was thinking about Nick again! With a supreme effort, I banished him from my thoughts and tried to catch up with Emi and Sal’s conversation.

Sensing a lull, I asked the girls’ opinion on a new development in my saga that was bothering me. “So, girls, what do you think about this: one of the HR bitches at Harvey & Rose is suggesting—well, actually more or less insisting—that I take a six-month sabbatical. She thinks I need a good break after my
ordeal
.”

Sal raised a manicured eyebrow.

“I know, Sal, they’re just bullshitting because they’re embarrassed having me at work. The whole Nick episode is still on everyone’s mind, and the partners want to make sure the whole fiasco is dead and buried before they let me in front of clients again. Still, it could have been worse. They could have sacked me, which is kind of what I expected. According to Sam—the partner I work for,” I added for Emi’s benefit, “the commercial department isn’t doing very well at the moment and they might have to let some lawyers go. Anyway, I need to do something to occupy myself for six months; I’m going crazy not having anything to do. What do you girls think? My parents think some kind of volunteer work is a good idea, but I’m not so sure.”

Emi put down her soy chai latte with a clatter. “Babe, that is such a good idea. You should so do something like that. It will give you a fresh perspective on life. Doing charity work always gives me such a buzz. There are so many cool things you can do!

Do you want to do something with people, animals, or the environment?” Emi was on a roll. She looked me up and down. “Something with people or animals, I think. Sal, do you agree?”

Sal looked bemused, but dutifully nodded her assent.

“Oh my god, I’ve thought of
the
perfect thing for you. You know my friend Asha? Well, she’s just come back from Africa. She was helping with an AIDS awareness program and she totally loved the experience. She said it was by far the best thing she’s ever done in her life. I’ll organize drinks for all of us and you two can chat.”

Emi’s enthusiasm was almost contagious. Of course I agreed to drinks. Asha was a really cool girl; I liked her a lot, so even though I wasn’t sold on volunteering it would be nice to catch up.

I turned to Sal. “Before I buy my ticket to Africa, what do you think? Any other ideas?”

“Well, for starters, have you really thought this through, Zara? I mean, six months off could really impact your career. I think you’re letting HR push you around far too easily. There’s no case against you, and Harvey & Rose are not stupid enough to risk an unlawful dismissal action. Talk to Sam again; he’s reasonable and I’m sure he can work something out with the other partners.”

Sam was a genuinely nice man in his late fifties. “I thought the same thing, Sal, but when I spoke to Sam yesterday he thought a sabbatical was a good idea. I’m certainly not thrilled about the way things have turned out, but I’m not in a very good position to argue and could really do without any more drama in my life. Maybe a quiet six months is what I need.”

Sal remained silent for a few moments before saying in a slightly peeved voice, “But if you don’t come back, Zara, who am I going to hang out with? I really miss you, and work has been a lot more boring since you’ve been gone. I’ve had to start having coffees with Toby, and while he’s a nice enough guy, it’s not the same. I need you.”

“What about nice Clare?” I suggested helpfully.

“Didn’t I tell you, she’s on secondment to Bank of America for the next twelve months,” Sal replied.

“Well, if you get sick of Toby there’s always evil Clare…” I said halfheartedly.

“Please—she is one of the most awful women on the planet. Hey, I can’t believe I haven’t told you yet. Apparently she’s sleeping with George—how totally gross is that? He’s so old.”

“Ooohh, disgusting. Imagine what he looks like naked. Some things just aren’t worth doing for a pay rise!” At this thought we both started giggling.

“So are you okay for money?” Sal had regained her composure and was looking at me in a concerned way. “You still have to pay the bills, right?”

“Well, I’ve sort of had an interesting development on that front, but you both have to promise not to tell anyone before I divulge.”

Emi and Sal exchanged glances.

“No, I’m serious, girls; promise or I’m not telling you a thing.”

Both Sal and Emi nodded their assent.

“Well, I told you about how Nick’s father wrote me a check for a quarter of a million to walk away. Of course, I didn’t take the money. I was so furious about it. I mean, how demeaning, trying to buy me off like that. But, the other day I was going through my bag and there it was; Nick must have somehow slipped the check into my bag. I don’t know what to do with it, though. I haven’t cashed it and I’m not sure I ever will.”

Sal whistled softly. “Wow, that’s a lot of money. You should definitely keep it, Zara. You didn’t do anything wrong, and Nick has definitely hurt your career, at least in the short term.”

Emi was nodding her head in agreement. “Sal’s right. You didn’t ask to be put in this situation. If it makes you feel any better about it, maybe you can keep some of the money and donate some of it to a worthy cause.”

While Sal and Emi had a point, I still wasn’t convinced I should touch a cent of Bill Hansen’s money. I didn’t want to feel like I owed that man anything.

“Mmm, I hear you.” I shrugged my shoulders in exasperation at myself. “But it just doesn’t feel right. Believe it or not, I’ve actually got a bit saved, and I’ve also got the share portfolio I inherited from my grandma—not that it’s worth that much anymore—so I’ve got no immediate need for money.”

The rest of the morning passed pleasantly enough with the girls. After brunch we hit the shops. Although Emi had loads of gorgeous clothes, she wanted something new to wear to Henri’s. In the end she settled for a cute little Miu Miu dress. Of course, she looked like an absolute doll.

While we shopped, Sal filled us in on the saga that was her love life. In the last few weeks she’d been on a couple of dates with a guy she met on the Internet. On the first date she was impressed—he was good-looking, interesting, and funny. On the second date, things went so well he stayed most of the night—and on the third date she found out that he was married! Sal was now on a self-imposed dating freeze.

Despite the warm day, Sal’s tale of woe sent a shiver down my spine. Without Nick, I was back to square one in the dating world. And based on my friends’ experiences, dating could be brutal. Still, dating wasn’t exactly a priority for me right now. I couldn’t imagine being interested in anyone for a very long time.

My biggest priority was working out how to spend the next six months. The idea of doing some kind of volunteer work was starting to grow on me. I’d ruled out simply going on a holiday; I didn’t have the energy to drag myself around sight-seeing. I needed to do something structured, something where thinking was optional.

Emi, full of enthusiasm on my behalf, had already SMSed Asha and arranged drinks for Tuesday night. We were going to plan my future over copious wines.

Chapter 7

T

uesday night came around surprisingly quickly. Emi had picked Boqueria, a trendy tapas bar, for our tête-à-tête. By 8:00 p.m. the place was humming as suits jostled for tables.

Fortunately, Emi and Asha had arrived early and had secured a cozy little nook toward the back of the restaurant. They were deep in conversation when I slid onto the ivory banquette.

Asha smiled at me. “Zara, it has been too long!” It was simply impossible not to like Asha. Oozing natural warmth and possessing a winning smile, she instantly won people over, and I was no exception.

Tonight, as always, Asha looked gorgeous. Her long dark hair was scooped into a loose ponytail and hung down her back. Her skin was radiant and glowed in the soft light. And a cream dress showed off her tanned half-Indian, half-American skin to great effect.

After catching up on girl talk—who was dating, who had recently broken up, holiday plans, and latest makeup trends—Asha turned to the subject at hand: my future.

“So Emi has been telling me that you’re thinking of going to Africa to do some volunteering. That’s such a wonderful idea, Zara. I loved my time. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that it was the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well, volunteering is a loose idea,” I conceded cautiously. “I’m not a hundred percent sold on it, but I can’t very well sit around my tiny apartment for the next few months; I’ll go crazy.”

Asha went on to tell me about her experiences in Tanzania, where she’d worked as a nurse in the local clinic and then as a teacher in the school. As enthusiastic as Asha was, neither option really grabbed me. Sick people make me anxious and I’m totally hopeless with kids.