2 Big Apple Hunter by Maddie Cochere Read Free Book Online Page A

do you do for a living. In return, I asked him about running the hotel. It was an easy, enjoyable conversation.
    After about an hour, he excused himself and told me to have a nice evening. I was proud of myself. I h ad left the room, it went well, and I was feeling much braver. When I returned to my room, I opened the door, and there on the floor was a card which had been slipped under the door. I picked it up. It was the hotel manager’s business card. On the back had been handwritten , Room 217. Please join me. I bolted the door, jumped into bed with all of my clothes on, and pulled the covers over my head.
    Hunger drove me from my room on Saturday. Keeping an eye out for the manager, I sneaked down to the hotel dining room for a late breakfast. I couldn’t stay in the room for another 24 hours, so over breakfast , I tried to whip up some courage. Crossing the lobby to head back to my room, I noticed the hotel concierge was behind her counter. I stopped and asked for some assistance as to what I c ould do for the short time I would be in the city. She suggested the theater, of course. She could get a ticket for me that evening at The Palace on Broadway for Legally Blonde, The Musical . I held my breath and said “Yes.”
    After hiding out in my room all afternoon, I forced myself to get dressed and not wimp out on the theater. Jumpsuits were back in fashion, and I had a lovely belted one of thin cotton in pastel hues of pink, yellow, and green with a fold-over collar and a button-down front. I left the first several buttons unbuttoned. Tan suede sandals with an ankle strap and 4-inch heels followed the jumpsuit. I may have been a fraid, but I was confident I looked good enough to venture out into the city. The doorman hailed a cab for me, and I was on my way.
    At the theater, my ticket seated me next to a married couple about my parents’ age. Stella and George seemed to take an interest in me, and they were shocked to hear I was in New York City alone. We chatted for about twenty minutes before the curtain rose, and Stella peppered me with questions about myself, which I wasn’t shy about answering.
    The show was fantastic. It was tongue-in-cheek, inf antile, and bubbly . I loved it, as did the rest of the audience. I love musicals, and this was a fun, feel-g ood musical. I was glad I had left the confines of the hotel room for the performance.
    After the last curtain call, I started to feel some panic. I had never hailed a ca b before, and the concierge told me to be sure to get one quickly as once the first rush of them was gone, it could be a while before another showed up.
    Stella and George asked what my plans were, and I told them I was going to try my hand at hailing a cab. Stella pooh-po ohed the idea and insisted I go across the street with them for drinks, and they would run me back to my hotel afterward. They didn’t seem like predators; they seemed like protective parents, and I welcomed the idea of not having to deal with a taxi at night.
    We walked across the st reet to an upscale bar and sat at a small table with stools. Stella and I ordered Cosmopolitans while George ordered a scotch, neat. The bar was crowded, and we were continually jostled by people walking by. After several minutes of idle chatter, Stella began rapidly sending texts on her phone. George was already ordering another drink.
    Twenty minutes later, three frat-boy types walked into the bar and h eaded to our table. Stella stood up to kiss one of them. Unbeknownst to me, she had been texting her son, Dale, to come to the bar because there was someone she wanted him to meet. She was trying to play matchmaker!
    It was o bvious all three of the guys were already intoxicated when they ordered a pitcher of beer. Dale positioned himself on one side of me, and his friend Jack stood on the other side. Skip stood across the small table next to Stella.
    The wait ress brought the beer, and as she was reaching past me to set it on our table, she was