Chapter 1 - Arrival in NYC on an August Day
BPOV
And do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you're there
or have somebody's goodnight kisses got that covered?
When I'm not being honest
I pretend that you were just some lover
- Love Is A Laserquest, Arctic Monkeys
Friday morning, and JFK International is a fucking zoo. Mothers scramble after their kids while dads follow, backs and arms full of luggage. Business professionals sit in the bars and pretend their suits are comfortable for travel, surreptitiously checking for fellow solo travelers to chat up. Loud tourists excitedly look inside the gift stores. Despite the chaos and the recycled air that make up your standard airport, I feel at home. A side effect of constantly traveling, I suppose, but airports are easy. They're predictable. And I've spent a lot of time in the past six years in and out of hundreds of airports.
Luckily, I'm arriving and can easily bypass the crowds of people, carrying only my backpack containing my laptop, camera, and all of my camera accessories, as well as a weekender bag full of clothes. I stride past baggage claim and make my way out into the humid New York summer air. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in and swallow down the anxiety I feel every time I'm in town. I have a few days off, and I'm looking forward to going home to my apartment and decompressing for a few days. My trip to Iceland this past week involved a lot of activity on my end, so bingeing a season of Queer Eye and ignoring everything else in the world seems like the perfect thing to do.
Alice, my boss, arranged for a car to pick me up from the airport and as soon as I'm loaded in the back and we're on our way, I get a call from her.
"Alice, it's my day off," I answer flippantly, stuffing my AirPods in so I can keep scrolling Instagram while talking to her. Alice had a tendency to ramble, and while I love her, I really don't want to think about work for a few days. It's been almost a month since I've had a day off that didn't involve traveling in between jobs.
"That's no way to speak to the woman who got you a town car for your drive home," she responds indignantly. "How was Iceland, by the way? Those edits looked amazing."
"Fagradalsfjall was fucking gorgeous."
It really was.
Fagradalsfjall was a volcano 40 kilometers outside of Reykjavik that had been erupting for about a week by the time I got there. Not only had I hiked as far as physically possible before the heat became overwhelming, I had gotten on a helicopter that flew me over so that I could take pictures. The article was encouraging people to visit while the volcano was erupting, a huge tourist attraction for Reykjavik.
"Anyway, I know I said that you would get these days off before you have to fly to Germany for that piece on the spies or whatever…" At this, I halted my Instagram scrolling.
"Alice…" I groaned, my head falling back against the seat. "You promised!"
"I know!" She cries out. "I know, I know, I know! But we've got something that came up. Can you come to my office?"
I sigh and look out at the passing buildings, watching the crowds of people on the street. Deep down, I know that Alice would only ask if she had no other option. She respected me and my free time far too much to pull me in unnecessarily. I let out another frustrated groan.
"Fine. I'm on my way."
— NTSA—
The New York Times building is bustling, reminding me that it is a Tuesday afternoon. Being away on jobs constantly, I forget what it's like for the nine-to-fivers in the home office. The jet lag is starting to kick in, and I'd love to be at home drinking a glass of wine when the exhaustion really settles in.
As I'm striding across the lobby, wondering whether I have a bottle of wine chilled already, I feel someone fall in to step next to me.
"Bella, hey!" I glanced over at the man responsible for the breathless voice next to me, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
Mike Newton was a staff writer that had taken a liking to me after I took photos for an article he wrote on Oktoberfest in Germany last year. I traveled with him for a few days visiting different festivals and taking photos while he interviewed local brewerie. Ever since, I've been fielding his requests to go out for a drink. Thankfully, I'm almost always out of town and it's easy to turn him down. Unfortunately this time he spotted me as soon as I walked into the building.
The thing is, Mike's not unattractive. With his blonde hair and green eyes, athletic build, and steady job, he was visually appealing, there was no doubt. But if I went out with someone these days, it usually was for a rare casual encounter, and I was not dipping into the work pool for something like a one night stand. Plus, the green of his eyes reminded me a little too much of someone else, and I was not about to go down that path.
"Hey, Mike," I responded dully, making a beeline for the elevator. I hoped that if I acted disinterested, he might take the hint and leave me alone. I had no such luck.
"Those Iceland pics were awesome! Great work, as always." He hops into the elevator with me as he gushes more about the volcano, cramming in alongside several other people. I hit the button for Alice's floor, muttering my thanks and glancing around at the people who are about to witness me turn this poor guy down.
He doesn't disappoint. "Listen, Bella, since you're in town, maybe you'd like to grab that drink with me? There's this new bar a few blocks down that I…"
"Mike," I sigh, turning to face him. His face was open, hopeful, and I hated to be the one to crush it. But then I caught those green eyes again and remembered it would be much better to squash his admiration now than let it progress. "I don't think that's a good idea. We work together."
"Yeah, but we work in different departments." He protests, "And there's no rule against going out for drinks." Mike smiles, pretending that's all he's looking for when the whole elevator of strangers knows better.
"I can't, Mike. I'm really sorry. I hope we can still have a professional relationship, but that's all I can have with you. Okay?"
He looked down, and I could see the blush in his cheeks as the embarrassment creeped in. I wondered if he thought that asking me around others would pressure me into saying 'yes' to avoid being seen in a negative light.
Little does he know, I'm used to being the bad guy.
We arrive at my floor and I shoot Mike an apologetic smile before hurriedly leaving the elevator, rolling my eyes once he can no longer see me.
I wander past cubicles, saying hello to those I know but not stopping for conversation. Since coming on at The New York Times, I've worked with a lot of the staff writers, so I was pretty familiar around here, despite never actually being here. As I progress through the open work space, however, I realize that the photographer's section is empty, everyone seemingly out on assignment. Alice's door is opened, and I knock lightly on the door jam, peering in.
Her office is dim, the blinds drawn, and her table is covered in a ton of photo edits. She's seated at her desk, the blue glow of her computer lighting up her youthful face.
Alice was the youngest person to ever be promoted to editor for our department, and I had great respect for her. Even with her boisterous personality, she kicked ass and took names in the professional world. She was my biggest advocate, and probably my closest friend, just based on the fact that we spoke so often.
"Bella! Long time, no see! Get in here, please."
I moved to sit across from Alice, taking in her pixie cut and shift dress, looking like a modern day Twiggy. This girl still made time for fashion, despite her busy work life. I wish I could say the same. Instead, I typically wore my standard uniform of skinny jeans, a band t-shirt, some type of jacket, and boots. I've dressed the same since high school, when I was running around Forks with a little Polaroid, snapping pictures of Rez boys and forestry.
"I'm sure you noticed the lack of staff photographers out there today," Alice brings me out of my thoughts, cutting right to the chase. "Unfortunately everyone is out on assignment right now - even our local photographers have been sent away on assignment. And now, we've just had an interview pop up with a very short deadline, as they leave town first thing tomorrow to do a string of tour dates in the UK. They really want the pics to be of their hometown show. I was hoping you could be our pinch hitter and photograph their show tonight, and they agreed to a small private session beforehand while Mike interviews them."
I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but shook it off as irrational. Of all the bands based out of NYC, the chances of it being his band are slim.
"What band?" I ask, my voice quieter than intended.
"Oh, The New Moons. They're coming out with a new album. It's been like 4 years."
Alice is oblivious to my distress as my stomach drops and nausea settles over me. There is no way I can go and take pictures of my ex-husband and his band tonight. Despite it having been six years since the divorce, the wounds were still deep and open. I spent most of my time chasing stories around the world instead of focusing on healing from the damage caused by my ex-husband.
The New Moons used to be my favorite band, back when I would tour with them whenever I was on break from school, madly in love with their frontman.
Edward Masen. Masen, as the masses knew him.
I met him when I was photographing one of their shows for our college paper. At first I thought he was a prick, but he changed my mind quickly, laying on that English charm. Within 6 months, we were married. During that time, I introduced him to my best friend Jacob, who joined their lineup as a drummer. That apparently was the missing piece their band needed, and their album was received by the masses. Ultimately, that ended up being the downfall of our marriage, and I hadn't spoken to him since our last mediation appointment.
The only person I stayed in touch with from the band following the divorce was Jacob, and that was something we kept a secret. We still saw each other in Forks occasionally, and texted when I had service. He had sworn to never mention Edward to me, which I appreciated. I couldn't bear to hear anything about that man.
Realizing that Alice is staring at me now, waiting for an answer, I do something that I never have done before to Alice - make excuses.
"Come on, Alice. I haven't shot a band since I was in college. Two weeks ago I was on the border of Turkey with Kurdish insurgents, for God's sake."
"Bella, I know. Trust me. I know. But you're literally the only photographer I have available. And I've seen a few of your old photos from college, they're amazing! You could've made a living off of tour photography alone. And they really want this story to come with original photos. This is their first interview since their last album came out, I guess." She shrugged.
I happen to know from Jake that they had to stop doing interviews during the last album's release after a few mishaps. I didn't ask what those mishaps were, but could guess.
Realizing that I'm in a bind, I opt for honesty. Alice and I have known each other a while now, and while she knows I once was married, she had no other information than that. I tended to be reserved around most people, and at this moment it was to my detriment.
"Alice, my ex-husband is in that band."
She stares at me blankly for a second, processing that information. Her brow furrows, and her head tilts to the side.
"Are you being serious right now?" She questions, her voice flat. I cringe at her tone, but roll my eyes at her question. I wish I wasn't telling the truth right now. "Of course, Alice."
When I don't say anything else, she throws her arms up.
"Well, now you have to spill. Who was it? Is it the drummer? I know how you love muscles like those."
I scrunch up my face. "Um, no. I actually grew up with the drummer though, he's like my brother. We still see each other every so often because I'm from Forks and he's from the…"
"You're stalling," she interrupts, not amused by my rambling. I take a deep breath.
"Um, Edward Masen."
My eyes are closed, so I don't see Alice's immediate reaction. When she hasn't responded after several agonizing seconds, I open my eyes to find her staring at me incredulously.
"You were married to Masen?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"We got married before This Is It came out. We were married for 3 years or so."
"Oh my god," she said in disbelief. I sat down across from her at her desk.
"I know."
Still shell shocked, she repeats herself. If I wasn't so uncomfortable with the situation, I would have laughed. "Oh my god. Masen. Masen!"
I sit quietly and let her work it through. I'm sure she has a million questions, and I happen to know she's a huge fan of The New Moons, but she thankfully keeps that to herself.
"Bella, that's crazy. I can't believe you've never told me this before now. I mean, you don't really tell me much of anything in your personal life, but still. How'd you two even meet?"
I sigh, shifting in my seat and moving my hair over one shoulder.
"I was taking photos at a gig of theirs for the university paper. I ended up introducing them to Jake, and then Edward and I hit it off. It all happened very quickly." I hate talking about this, and find myself speaking quickly, getting flustered. "Anyway, the point is, I can't go take these pictures."
Alice's eyebrows arch sympathetically, and I already know that I need to embrace the fact that tonight, I will be seeing my ex-husband for the first time in 6 years.
Well, long time, no see. It's been a while since I've posted or even written anything. A lot has happened since I last updated - I got a high-level job after moving back to my hometown, got pregnant after trying for years, bought a house, had a baby, and I've been home on maternity leave for 2 months now. I've missed writing, but I've been actively reading stories that are being posted. There's quite a few that I'm currently loving, including Shiver by iambeagle, In The Weeds by Eep118 and Bad Habits by DazzlinSparkle05.
This story has been playing in my mind for a while now. I'm a huge music lover, and what's sexier than a main character in a band? I'd love to hear what you guys think. Happy to be back. xx orionsnights
