Page 38 of My Rock Star Neighbor
“Who’s Tristan?”Maddie asks.
“He’s a reporter for the Washington bureau ofThe New York Carrier Pigeon, but he’s moving back to New York to take over the family business.”
“The New York Carrier Pigeonfamily empire, you mean.You know him?”Maddie asks.“I haven’t run into him yet, but I’m sure I will.”
“We’re friends from playing high school travel league soccer together,” I say.“He’s a good connection for you to have.”
“How come you haven’t mentioned you know him before?”Maddie asks me.
“Because…” I can’t answer that question.I could have introduced them last weekend when Tristan was in town.But Christina couldn’t stop talking about Tristan after the three of us had dinner.Tristan even revealed, after we broke up, that she’d hit on him.What woman could resist him?He had it all, especially for someone interested in reporting.I should introduce them, but not anytime soon.As two reporters, they might click.Maybe when this contract is over and this possibly proximity-fueled desire has faded.
“Christina liked him a little too much,” Luca says oh so helpfully.
She raises her eyebrows.“I heard he’s quite competitive.And we’re working for rival papers.I’m not sure we’ll be friends.”
“My money is on you,” I say.Maddie has an amazing network of connections.I met her at City Hall once for lunch.We had to stop every few minutes to say hi or catch up with someone while walking in the park, including the street sweeper, the hot dog guy, and a few people who looked like they were living on “their” bench.Those relationships take time to build.Tristan is kind of aloof.
“Nick hates to ask for favors,” Luca says.“On his own initiative, Tristan ran the article yesterday morning interviewing that elderly couple where they acknowledged that Nick was not Cara’s boyfriend.”
I didn’t even think to ask Tristan.
“Our friendship is not about favors.He has too many people who ask him for favors.It was a surprise to me when he ran it,” I say.“I thanked him for clearing my name.”
“As he said, he ran it because it was the truth.But it doesn’t seem to have been picked up by any other press.Still, I think Nick and I would both feel better if you carried a whistle.I can also offer you a spray.”Luca unlocks a cabinet filled with gadgets and hands Maddie both a whistle and a small spray device.
“Why do you keep your pens in there?”Maddie asks, pointing at a box of pens.“Is it disappearing ink?”
“They’re recorder pens.Do you want one?”
“Definitely.That’s so cool,” Maddie says.
I should have thought of buying Maddie a pen recorder.Luca explains some of the other gadgets, and Maddie looks fascinated.I shouldnothave introduced Luca to Maddie, but at least he’s a good guy.Definitely a better prospect than I am.Unless he returns to being a bodyguard.
We walk out the door into the cool night air.At least this winter has been relatively mild, other than a few freezing nights.Maddie is wearing her huge parka, all the new toys from Luca stuffed into the inner pockets.Her parka apparently doubles as a substitute bag.
Crosby Street has a different feel than where we live, particularly with the brick-paved street.This street in the SoHo Cast Iron District maintains the feel of the old industrial and artistic SoHo.
As we walk to Grand Street, we pass by the hollow cast iron columns and the huge windows that allow sunlight to permeate the far depths of the floors that characterize the west side of the street.
Maddie says.“That was fun.You were right.It was a good distraction from my nerves about tomorrow’s panel presentation.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so nervous.Is it because you’re worried that those women will be there?”
“I haven’t seen them since I left middle school,” Maddie says.“I think I’m over it, but I hated them so much.”
It’s hard to imagine Maddie hating anyone.One of the things I like about her is that she’s such a positive person.But then, I can’t understand anyone bullying Maddie either.
“How did you cope?”I ask.
“I mostly escaped into reading at lunch so I didn’t feel alone.Then I found Ms.Philips, who supported me when I said I wanted to start a newspaper.I retreated to her classroom during lunch to work on the paper, so eighth grade was much better.And then high school was amazing.I met Iris and other friends, and it was great to be among smart kids and appreciated for wanting to study and learn.”
I escaped into music, and she escaped into reading.We’re more similar than I realized.Grand Street is quiet now, with only a few people hurrying down the street.We’re in Little Italy now, and a huge cannoli sculpture decorates the side of one corner building.The customers sitting in the restaurants look warm and cozy.
“Did you like high school?”she asks.
“High school was better than middle school and elementary school, that’s for sure.At least parents were no longer expected to show up to all our activities,” I say.“With my mom working full-time to support us, she couldn’t take off to make school meetings or come to performances.I always felt like the other kids pitied me.Luca’s mom kind of adopted me and would try to play that role sometimes.That meant a lot to me.”I look down.“I loved dinners at Luca’s house.It was so chaotic and warm with his four siblings.And his mom always seemed fully present, really listening to us.”
“And you didn’t feel your mom was?”
