The Year of the Great Seventh (27 page)

“In some cases it is possible to view pieces in storage for purposes of specific research. Please move to the side and fill out this form to request an appointment.” The woman reached under her desk and produced a form and a pen.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, looking right past me as if I was no longer standing in front of her. “How can I help you?”

“Wait,” Nate said, refusing to be dismissed. “What do you mean ‘an appointment’? We need to see them today.”

“The pieces are in the basement vault, and they’d have to be brought out. It’s a three-month process at minimum,” she said without making eye contact, as if we were talking to a computer.

“Please move aside. There’re people waiting.”

This is what they call the New York attitude. I’d heard of it before, but this was the first time I’d experienced it firsthand. She obviously knew how desperate we were, but she couldn’t care less. She only got paid to answer questions and fill request forms following the protocol, and that’s all she was planning to do.

I wasn’t a big fan of L.A., but at least people in California seemed friendlier. Perhaps it’s the warmer weather.

New York was the city that never slept, no doubt about that. You could tell by people’s stressed attitudes.

We were both leaning on the desk as if to absorb the shock.

“What are we going to do?” I asked. This time I was the one hoping to hear from Nate that everything was going to be fine.

“I have no idea. We’ll have to think of something else.” Nate had no reason to pretend anymore. I’d seen exactly what was happening to him.

As there was nothing else for us to do at the museum, we filled out the useless form anyway and took a taxi back to the hotel. We would have to think of a way to get to the two crabs in the vault.

Nate stared out of the taxi window the entire trip without saying a word. I wanted to tell him that everything was going to be fine, that I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him, but that wasn’t a promise I knew I could keep, and Nate knew that also.

When we got to the hotel entrance, Nate’s cell phone went off. He searched the different pockets of his jacket until he located it. He checked the caller ID and rolled his eyes at me.

“I have to take this. It’s Preston—my cousin. If you want to go ahead, I’ll stop by your room later this afternoon,” Nate said, staring at the elevator doors as they opened.

“It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

Preston and Nate seemed to be close, as this was the second time he’d called him in the past two days. I still found it unbelievable Preston Gorringe, the leading candidate for the senate seat in California, was Nate’s cousin. Preston was obviously important to Nate, even at this time, since Nate always interrupted whatever he was doing to take Preston’s calls.

Nate stepped to the side, making it harder for me to listen.

“Hey, Preston,” Nate said, almost in a whisper.

“I know. I got your text.” Nate walked around in small circles. “Tonight around 9:00 p.m. I’ll be there. Don’t worry. I have the address.”

Nate glanced at me for a split second.

“Okay, see you then.”

Nate stowed the phone in his pocket and pressed the elevator button.

“Sorry, I had to take the call.” He didn’t give up any more details.

We got into the elevator, but no words were spoken. I could tell Nate was trying to avoid conversation. He didn’t seem eager to tell me about his cousin Preston, or where he was going tonight at 9:00 p.m.

I didn’t understand Nate. He was always so reserved, especially about his family. It seemed hard for him to speak out loud about his private life.

I could picture his mom’s horrified look if she found out he was dating a girl from West Hollywood. That was probably a scene he’d been avoiding also.

As the elevator doors slid open on the fiftieth floor, Nate spoke without making eye contact. “I’ll see you in the morning. I have to meet my cousin Preston tonight. He’s in New York, too.”

Nate fidgeted on his feet. “I’ll make some phone calls to see if anyone can fast-track our application at the Met. Dad knows some people. Maybe they can help us.”

“I was just thinking about it, too. Tomorrow I have a meeting with Professor Silverman at NYU to discuss my scholarship. He also works at the Met. I’m sure he can help us.” My voice quavered as if I was about to start crying.

I didn’t know why, but deep inside, I was expecting an invitation to join him tonight.

We stood there, unsure of each other for a moment, and as I didn’t want to force Nate to do anything he wasn’t ready for yet, I looked away and swiped my room key. “Okay, see you tomorrow, then.”

“Hey, wait!” Nate grabbed me by the arm, making me turn toward him. “Why don’t you come with me?”

“If you don’t want me to, it’s okay,” I said so quietly I barely heard the words.

Nate placed his hand under my chin and lifted my face until our eyes met. “What do you mean? You’re welcome to come if you’d like.” His eyes narrowed, confused. “Preston happens to be here for a convention.”

“I still can’t believe Preston Gorringe is your cousin,” I said out loud, as if to let it sink in.

Nate fidgeted from foot to foot as if he hadn’t anticipated my reaction. “He… well… He’s not as exciting as you think.”

Actually, I’d seen him on TV a few times, and I wasn’t too impressed by him. But this wasn’t about meeting a high-profile politician; this was about Nate letting me into his inner circle.

“I know we don’t have time for this, but I have to meet him. If he suspects anything, he won’t leave me alone until he finds out,” Nate said apologetically as if we weren’t talking about one of the most influential people in California.

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and placed his hands on my shoulders to stare directly into my eyes. “I’d like you to come and meet him.”

Then I thought about it. The idea of meeting a likely future senator just made my legs feel like butter. The pressure was on. What was I going to say to him?

“Are you sure?” I brought my gaze down. “What will he think if he realizes that I’m just a West Hollywood girl?”

“What do you mean?” Nate spoke with seriousness in his voice. His grip tightened on my shoulders. “You’re the most beautiful and smartest girl I’ve ever met, and he’ll be thrilled to meet you.”

The blood rushed to my face at Nate’s forwardness.

“That way you’ll get an idea what my family’s like.” Nate half-smiled.

I guess he was being serious and he meant every word. However, that remark left me wondering.

“And if meeting my family is important for you, I promise you that once we get back to L.A., I’ll introduce you to my parents, okay?”

I nodded, unable to utter a word.

“Let’s meet at street level at eight o’clock, then. Don’t be late!” Nate’s grin was reassuring, just like the daredevil smile he had in the photo Señora had shown me.

He stroked my face and disappeared into his room.

The rest of the afternoon flew by. I spent most of it on the Internet on my laptop, confirming the information we’d received from the woman at the information desk was correct. And indeed it was. Someone had stolen the two crabs. It meant no one would know what the inscription on the Caesareum referred to.

Also, I searched for Preston Gorringe. The problem was the more I knew about Preston, the more I realized how important he was. He held a BA in economics from Harvard and had gone through Yale Law School. On top of that, he’d started his political career at the age of twenty-five.

The next morning I was going to attend the NYU tour. Of course, I wasn’t going to waste all day while that horrible stain grew on Nate’s back. I was going to sign in, and as soon as I had the chance, I was going to disappear. I had to meet Professor Silverman at 1 p.m., and I convinced myself that he was going to be able to get us to those crabs right away. He worked at the Met as a consultant for special exhibitions, and I hoped he could get us into the museum vault. I knew he could help us, and I was prepared to beg if necessary.

I decided to send an email to Professor Silverman in advance to explain that we needed to see the crabs for a school project before we went back to L.A. At seven o’clock, I began to get ready to meet Nate downstairs. It had taken some deliberation to decide what to wear. First impressions are super important. His cousin Preston would probably report back to the rest of the family, and I needed to gain Nate’s Mom back. She wasn’t likely to have much sympathy for me after our phone conversation.

Ignoring that I was going to freeze to death, I decided to go for a tight gray dress, black heels, and a leather jacket. On occasions like this, fashion had to triumph over comfort.

I loosened my long hair and smoothed out all the waves with my flat iron until it was completely straight. I put on some makeup and with ten minutes left, I applied black nail polish to give the outfit the final bad-girl look. Hopefully it would intimidate Preston a little and help him take me seriously.

Before leaving the room, I checked my outfit in the mirror to reassure myself that I could stand up to the situation.

When I got to street level, Nate was already there. He was outside on the street, leaning on the door and playing with his cell phone. I was sure he wasn’t even trying, but he seemed to be posing for a modeling photo shoot. His back was against the doorframe, and he was resting one foot on it.

I couldn’t really decide why he looked so handsome. Maybe it was the dark jeans with a rip just above his knee and his gray leather jacket. Or maybe it was just the way he looked with his cropped hair.

“I’m ready,” I said, stepping next to him.

Nate glanced at me for a second and continued playing with his phone.

“Should I call a cab?” I insisted.

Nate slowly brought his gaze up from the phone in disbelief. “Wow. I didn’t recognize you. You look… you look… so much older with that hair.” His eyes twinkled.

I took the older look comment as a compliment, as I was aware of Nate’s dating history, and he was obviously into older girls.

“Stop looking at me like that. You’re making me blush.”

“Sorry, you just look… beautiful.” Nate raised his hand and hailed a cab that cruised around Columbus Circle.

The taxi driver took us all the way downtown to the Lower East Side and dropped us off at the door of a Mexican fast-food joint.

As Nate helped me out of the taxi, he could see I was stunned.

“I thought you really liked tacos,” Nate said, holding his laugh.

We went into the taco joint and Nate headed straight to the back where there was a man with a suit by the service door.

The restaurant walls had once been white, but with the steaming of the front kitchen, they turned yellow. The place looked like a diner, but it only served food to go, except for a few stools by the windows.

“Do you have a reservation?” the man murmured to Nate.

A reservation? Was he kidding us? There were plenty of stools available. Anyway, why would anyone want to make a reservation at this awful place?

“Yes, it should be under Preston Gorringe’s name,” Nate said.

The man with the suit grabbed a walkie-talkie from his pocket and spoke into it. “Brenda, I have two people from the Preston Gorringe party.”

Then magically, the service door opened and a woman popped out. “Please follow me.”

We went down a flight of stairs into the basement. Then we crossed through a busy kitchen until we got to a double red door.

“Right through there. They’re at the bar,” the woman said, leaving us there and going back through the kitchen.

Nate grabbed my hand as if to prepare for a grand entrance, and at once, we swung the doors open Wild West saloon-style. I was stunned to see there was a restaurant full of people hidden in the basement.

The ceiling had wooden beams and the walls were stripped to the original bricks. There were different types of antique lamps and huge melting candles. A black wooden bar was to one side, and a forged metal railing separated the eating area.

Trendy, beautiful people ate at the tables and a few gathered around the bar. Everyone here seemed out of a fashion commercial. It was by far the coolest place I’d ever seen. Right away, I recognized Preston Gorringe from TV. He was at the bar with a blond girl. As soon as he waved at us, Nate moved toward him.

“Hey, man! I can’t believe I have to come all the way to New York to catch up with you.” Preston hugged Nate and patted him on the shoulder. He observed me over Nate’s shoulder.

“How have you been?” Nate said with forced enthusiasm.

Preston didn’t seem as intimidating as I expected. He certainly was more of the Beverly Hills type than Nate. His hair was combed to one side, and he wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up as if to make his Rolex more visible.

“I didn’t know you were bringing someone?” Preston stared at me as if I were some sort of pet.

“Sorry, this is Sophie.” Nate stepped slightly to the side, including me in the circle.

At least Nate stopped introducing me as his friend. I hadn’t gotten to the girlfriend position yet, but we were moving in the right direction.

“Preston… helloooo,” I heard from the blond girl ordering drinks at the bar.

“This is Addison,” Preston said dismissively.

Preston seemed a bit overconfident for my taste. I’d been here for less than a minute, and I was already starting to dislike him. Addison kissed Nate on the cheek and gave me what could be called an air hug.

“So what brings you here?” Preston said, handing each of us a beer.

“Sophie’s doing an NYU tour and I decided to come with her.”

I wondered why Preston offered us drinks when he obviously knew we were underage. By his attitude, he seemed to think he was above the law. Or perhaps that he was the law—which was technically almost true.

“Are you in college?” Addison said as we’d been left slightly aside.

A curious question. Obviously, if I was here checking out NYU, it was because I wasn’t in college yet. Maybe she thought I wanted to transfer to NYU from another college.

“No, I’m not in college. I’m from L.A. I just came here for the week.”