I Heart New York Read Free Page A

my iPod. There was really no reason not to go, and God knows, I am the queen of talking myself out of anything even vaguely confrontational.
    I forced myself out of the shower and into the bathroom. For a second my gaze rested on Mark’s wash bag, next to my engagement ring. A lovely leather piece I’d bought him last Christmas. He’s bound to want to come back for that, I thought as I slipped on my earrings, my necklace, it’s full of all his fancy shaving stuff his mum buys him for his birthday. For a moment I thought about filling it with shaving foam, but froze with a flashback as I picked up the can. Him, hunched over that cow, all sweaty and confused. Maybe I should throw it out of the window. Then I remembered him smiling at her. Smiling at her, in front of me, in those scummy boxer shorts.
    And so I sat on the loo and pissed in the bag. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever done, and I was so so proud. Once it was nicely ruined, I dropped in my engagement ring, zipped up the bag and left the bathroom.

    ‘Mum,’ I whispered, sitting beside her on the bed. ‘Mum, I’m off.’
    She opened her eyes and looked a bit confused as she remembered everything, and then she looked at me as though she was going to commit me to the same home where she had stashed my nan.
    ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, sitting up, looking even more confused at the sight of her nightwear. ‘You don’t have to go anywhere because of that shit.’
    It was the first time I’d heard her call Mark anything other than ‘darling boy’ or ‘that lovely Mark’, and I was quite touched.
    ‘I know,’ I nodded towards my packed travel bag. ‘But with the wedding and everything, I think I’d better get off early. Thing is, I thought I might nip off for a few days to sort myself out.’
    ‘Oh no,’ she said, taking my hand. ‘You’re just coming home with me and your father, he’s going to come and collect us later. You’ve done nothing wrong, you know. Well…’
    ‘I know, Mum,’ I said. ‘But I think it would do me good to get away. I’ve booked a taxi to the airport.’
    She looked at me slightly oddly. ‘Really?’ she asked. ‘You’re really going somewhere on a plane?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, standing up, clutching my bag.
    ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, looking at the clock. ‘Wouldn’t you rather just come home with me and your dad?’
    ‘Hmm,’ I pecked her on the cheek. ‘I think I’m actually going to go with my first idea.’
    Mum shook her head. ‘But where is better than home at a time like this?’

CHAPTER THREE
    The plane landed at JFK without a hitch and, while the homeland security guard didn’t seem that interested in my break-up (business or pleasure didn’t seem to cover why I was there), he did let me into the country. Good start. Once I stepped out into the sunshine, everything began to feel real. The cabs were yellow, they were on the wrong side of the road, and my taxi driver even swore a blue streak tossing my bag into the boot of his car. Man alive, it was warm. If women glow, men perspire, and horses sweat, right at that moment, I was one sweaty bloody horse.
    ‘Where to?’ the driver asked.
    ‘Erm, a hotel?’ I asked, plugging in my seatbelt as we took off. ‘I need a hotel.’
    ‘You fuckin’ serious?’ he asked, swerving onto the highway before I could even reply. ‘Which fuckin’ hotel? There are fuckin’ millions of hotels.’
    ‘Oh, yeah, I–well–I—’ before I could finish my sentence, I started to tear up. ‘I don’t know anywhere. I just sort of got here.’
    ‘Well, guess what lady?’ the driver yelled back at me, ‘I’m a fuckin’ taxi driver, not tourist information. You want me to fuckin’ drop you here in the middle of Queens or you want to give me the name of a hotel?’
    In response, I burst into tears. Witty comeback, thy name is Angela.
    ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m dropping you off at the first fuckin’ hotel we pass,’ he