Chapter 8 A New York Pastime

When the clock on the wall ticked to 6:00 PM, everyone around Leah stood up. Computers booted down and footsteps thumped toward the door. Leah started closing down her computer. She'd finished the TCR sometime mid-afternoon. Triumphantly, she notified Malcolm, who congratulated her, while explaining that it should only take an hour to do. "Next time, it will be quicker," he assured her in his soft voice. He'd given her some old issues of Club Business to read and she spent the rest of the afternoon reading while her stomach grumbled.

She picked up her badge and purse and headed for the door. "See you at salsa tonight?" Malcolm startled her when she passed his desk. She'd assumed he was gone like everyone else. She nodded obligatorily as though her boss had reminded her of an upcoming deadline and waved goodbye. The elevator was packed on the way down and she ended up walking up to the sixteenth floor to say goodbye to Kelsey. She hoped Kelsey would give her some encouragement; that it would get easier, or maybe she'd move back to Teen Club faster than expected. But when she approached Kelsey's desk, she noticed it was clean. The computer was off. There was no purse hanging from the hook on the side as there had been in the morning. An empty coffee mug with Diamond Media's logo sat clean on a coaster. Leah stayed and stared at the cubicle. She hadn't noticed earlier that the inside was covered with pictures and notes pinned to the walls. She saw pictures of Kelsey smiling with friends. Old tickets to the Met. Handwritten notes that were both professional and not. "Is it happy hour yet?" One note said. "Schedule annual reviews," said another.

The floor was eerily quiet, and Leah turned around to leave. She waited for three elevators before being able to fit inside one and she finally made it to the ground. She checked the map on her phone to make sure she remembered how to get back to the subway and started walking. It was like swimming through a storm, with currents of people flowing both ways. Men in suits swarmed her direction, while tourists with children and cameras flowed the other way. She barreled through, getting to the subway station that had more people waiting in it than she could believe. Trains came immediately, people filled them, but the platform didn't get any less packed. She slid her way through trying to walk to the end of the platform where it would hopefully be less crowded.

"Enjoying rush hour?" She heard from behind her. Her heart jumped as she feared being accosted on the Subway for a second time. She turned and there was Gabe standing in a suit with a bag over his shoulder.

"Is it always like this?" she asked, afraid of his answer.

He looked around and pursed his lips. "Nope. Sometimes it's more crowded." She must have looked defeated because he continued talking. "But you know what, if you leave an hour later, it's almost empty." That didn't make Leah feel any better. Was she supposed to stay at work until 7:00? "Do you want to get out of here? Get back on in an hour? There are a few good happy hours around here."

There was nothing Leah wanted more than to get off that subway platform. She followed Gabe back through the platform and up the stairs, which was almost impossible with the tidal wave of people pouring down. But they made it and Gabe led her down cobblestone streets until he stopped at Stone Street Tavern. He pushed the door inside and sat down at a table near the windows. There were others in the bar, but it wasn't nearly as crowded as the last bar they had been to together. Here, the patrons were mostly men in suits, women in heels and pencil skirts. People who looked professional and ambitious while taking the edge off after a long day. Leah was surprised to see so many people drinking on a Monday. But this was New York Happy Hour! A trademark pastime !

A waitress came and took their orders. Monday was two-for-one beers, so they both ordered a Sam Adams. It was a beer that Leah knew well coming from Boston. She'd even been to the brewery a few times where they did tours and tastings. "Cheers to our revolutionary forefather!" Gabe said when the beers arrived. They clinked their glasses and took a sip. "So, how does it feel to work at Teen Club?"

"I have no idea," Leah responded. "Because they moved me to Club Business." She rolled her eyes and took another sip. It was refreshing.

"Wow, a promotion already? Congratulations!"

"It's not a promotion. I'm doing the same job but for a different magazine. And apparently, at Club Business, researchers don't do any research! They do data entry."

"No!" he said dramatically. "That's outrageous!"

"I know!" she was happy with his exaggerated response. It made her feel somewhat validated for being so surprised by her first assignment. "I spent basically the whole day inputting data from this TCR thing into a database that I can't imagine anyone would ever look at! This is not what I got a journalism degree for. Maybe I should quit."

"We use Club Business' database," Gabe responded. "At WinterRock Capital we're looking at it all the time. Probably all hedge funds do. We get investment ideas from it. And also, the database includes which partners invest in different deals, so all the partners love seeing their names in the database."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, you can imagine what happens if someone makes a mistake in the database. Last week, my firm invested in this distressed real estate company and Club Business listed the two partners on the deal in alphabetical order. Well, John Zebeck had invested more than Will Eldridge and you can imagine how that made him feel to see his name second. Hedge fund managers are not modest at all. Anyway, he personally called the editor at CB and chewed him out."

"I wonder if that's why the researcher quit last week."

"Maybe."

Leah suddenly realized that the stakes of her data entry were even higher than she previously thought. People other than Malcolm or Tony would care if she made a mistake! They'd call and complain about her if she did! She couldn't imagine getting reprimanded in the office or fired. How humiliating!

"Well, I'm sure things will get better," Gabe assured her. "How are your colleagues?"

Leah thought about the people she had met that day. "Well, my boss, Tony is... He seems…" she paused, thinking about what to say. A little kooky? Loud? "Interesting. And there's Malcolm, the data analyst. He's really qu iet and nerdy, but apparently a professional salsa dancer. He asked if I wanted to meet him at a salsa club tonight! And the senior reporters Alex and Mark seem nice. Oh, and there's Kelsey from HR. I think she and I could be friends."

"HR is not your friend!" Gabe warned. "Remember that."

"What do you mean? She was so nice and friendly and everyone seemed to be friends with her."

"That's HR's job. They try to be on good terms with everyone. But their job is to protect the company. Their loyalty is to the company. Anyways remember that when you talk to someone from HR."

Leah nodded, but she thought that sounded a little paranoid. But who was she to know? She'd worked exactly one day in her life. Gabe had a little experience on her. "And how was your day?" She turned the conversation back to him.

"Well, I spent hours on a report about a potential investment we were thinking of making before my boss said he'd forgotten to tell me the investment was no longer an option. So that was fun."

"Cheers to fun jobs!" Leah giggled and raised her glass. They ordered a second round before happy hour ended and continued commiserating. Gabe also told her about the best places for lunch and happy hour in the area and offered to meet her for the best halal cart in FiDi the following day.

"Well, I think I want to have lunch with Mark and Alex," she responded. When Gabe looked confused, she explained. "The senior reporters. Today, they asked if I wanted to have lunch with them, but I was so busy with the TCR that I skipped lunch." She realized how hungry she was as she said that. Two beers on an empty stomach was probably not the most responsible choice.

"Totally understand. You have to bond with your colleagues. It's infinitely important. We can get halal another time."

"How about now?" She suggested, her mouth watering at the thought of food. He shrugged and motioned to the waitress for the check. When she brought it, Gabe grabbed it.

"On me," he said. "I couldn't let you use your hard-earned data entry money for beer."

She thanked him politely, wondering if that meant this was a date. Happy hour beers could go either way, but she was hoping this was more than just a friendly meeting. She'd enjoyed spending time with him. He was intelligent and funny, not to mention handsome. He then led her out of the bar and down a few blocks to a patio surrounded by the famous New York food carts. He zigzagged through until he stopped at one. "This is the best," he assured her. They ordered two gyro platters and this time Leah offered to pay. When he accepted, she was slightly disappointed, wondering if this negated the chances that they were on a date, but optimistically hoped that maybe Gabe was a modern man who didn't believe men were required to pay for everything.

With their Styrofoam trays in hand, they sat down on a bench. Leah tore into it, realizing just how hungry she was. It was delicious. Greasy and dry at the same time. The rice was crispy and soggy. The salad was both fresh and wilted from the meat next to it. Now this really did feel like a New York moment.

"Well, I think we can safely get back on the Subway now," Gabe noted looking at his watch. Leah was disappointed at his comment. The moment was coming to an end. He led her back to the Subway platform, which was empty except for the memory in Leah's mind. When the train came, they sat down on the empty seats.

"Do you mind?" He asked politely, pulling a book out of his bag. "I got to a really good part this morning on the commute, and I was really looking forward to reading it on the way home." The book was The Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe. Leah had never heard of it, not even of Tom Wolfe, but Gabe assured her that Tom Wolfe was one of the best authors of all time. "I'd lend you the book, but it's due back at the library on Thursday." Leah nodded and watched him open it to a dogeared page. His eyes focused and he seemed to get lost. She wasn't sure how she felt about his desire to read while sitting next to her. Was she too boring for continued conversation? Or was this a sign of his extreme intelligence that he was so passionate about reading? She decided to find it endearing and vowed to get herself a membership to the library. Maybe next time they'd sit next to each other and read together. That'd be romantic, wouldn't it?

She then remembered Malcolm's invitation to the salsa club. Should she ask Gabe if he wanted to go? She didn't want to interrupt his reading, so she sat quietly next to him until the train reached their stop on the Upper East Side. He hesitated to close the book when the car doors opened. She worried he'd miss the stop and end up somewhere in Harlem, but he bolted just in time and walked with her up the stairs into the air that had become dusk. As they walked, he told her about the book. "It's about this investment banker who gets into a car accident with his mistress with him. It basically ruins his life and he's a horrible person so he deserves it, but you actually feel bad for him." His face lit up as he spoke about the book, as though it was something that warmed his heart.

He walked her to her apartment and stopped in front. "I hope this evening made your day a little better."

"A lot better. Especially the halal."

"Yes, nothing better than fried meat that's been sitting out all day." He stood in front of her as though considering whether to kiss her. She tilted her head, hoping it invited him in, and it did. He met her lips and gave her a strong kiss. Her heart fluttered. Her cheeks twinkled and she hoped it would last forever.

When he pulled away, she felt flushed. "Good night," he said and disappeared down the brightly lit street.