How To Tango With Tom Collins

Chapter Four

Cecilee climbed the stairwell of the 51st street subway station with a precarious confidence. Her favourite platform wedges were both a statement and a necessity, thanks in equal parts to her career choice and her tiny 5'1 frame. She reached the top and stepped out into the warm spring evening, inside her chest her heart sang a little. God, she loved this city. She paused for a brief moment to breathe it all in. The sights and the sounds and the people. It wasn't the most happening area of the city but it was still New York City, a far, far, far cry from Withyham.

In comparison to the incredible, sprawling city in front of her, the East Sussex village she grew up in seemed like a completely different world. With a population of less than 3,000 people, it was impossible to walk the streets of her hometown without crossing paths with at least a dozen people who knew far too much about her and her family and her friends and her life and her love life...or lack thereof. Which is why she, the lonely young girl who had preferred to spend her evenings sketching and sewing in her bedroom rather than attend parties and pubs, high-tailed it out of that village as soon as her passport allowed it.

And yes, America had been good to her. But sometimes her soul simply cried out for an evening of tea and toast with her mum and baby sister or for one of her dad's big, burly, all encompassing hugs. Sometimes, just sometimes, she found herself getting lost in the shuffle and missing the people and place and faces of her sweet little English village. And then sometimes, especially after all the excitement of her life in the last five years...and when her thoughts switched to a one Liam Davies...it was nice to be able to just blend into the crowd.

As she turned and headed in the direction of the 17th precinct, she realized this was one of those moments. The crowd of photographers standing impatiently outside the station doors made her insides flutter in a way that was the complete opposite to the heart-warming moment that had just passed as she contemplated her new home and her old one. This was a belly-flipping, bad news kind of feeling.

She stopped walking and pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed.

"St. Clair," said the tired sounding voice on the other end.

"Hunter? It's Ces. There is--,"

"I know," he snapped, cutting her off. "It's madness out there. My higher ups are losing it on me. This has gotten totally out of hand. Have you seen the site? I should have known my sister would take it one step too far."

Cecilee stomach flipped again. The bad-news-gut-feeling was rarely ever wrong.

"I haven't had time to look yet," she responded quietly, feeling guilty. In reality, she just hadn't been able to bring herself to open TwoOneTwo.com all day. The city's most infamous online gossip magazine (aptly named after the city's most infamous area code) was known for it's harsh and brutally honest look at the socialite and celebrity scene in New York City. It was a world that Sophie, the company’s head of social media, had never been a part of except for the glimpses she received through her best friend Morgan Witherow. For years Sophie's insistence on not reporting on her lifelong friend had been both admired by some and hated by others. Today she broke that pact with herself and with Morgan. And the poor girl didn’t even know.

"Well you should go have a look," he sighed. "It's going to be a mess."