Jenny Lopez Saves Christmas: An I Heart Short Story

‘I dangle,’ I protested. ‘It’s just been a while.’

‘What about that guy you were talking to at my holiday party?’ she asked. ‘He seemed super into you.’

‘Erin, he was a magician,’ I said, not even faintly amused. ‘It’s one step up from clown and that’s one step up from suicidal homeless guy. No thank you.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ she relented. ‘You’re not marrying a magician − I can’t have that around my kids. But we need to get you back on track.’

I nodded, reaching out for a beautiful black leather Alexander Wang backpack, wondering whether or not it was the kind of purse that said strong, successful woman looking for Mr Right. Without a word, Erin snatched it out of my hands and set it back on the shelf. Apparently it was not.

‘No backpacks,’ she said, cutting me off as I opened my mouth to defend myself. ‘I don’t give two shits what Vogue says, you’re not in high school, you’re not Cara Delevingne, no backpacks.’

‘I do have her eyebrows,’ I said, peering into a nearby mirror. ‘And, like, three of her ass.’

‘She’s a child,’ Erin replied. ‘She has no ass. Don’t worry about it.’

‘See, this is why I need to have a baby,’ I said, marvelling at my friend. ‘I remember when you wouldn’t wear pants unless you could bounce a quarter off your ass. I need that Zen attitude.’

‘It’s not Zen,’ she said weakly. ‘It’s giving up. You could bounce a roll of quarters off my ass these days and they’d just sink right in. It’s devastating.’

‘Maybe I’ll get fat over the holidays,’ I said, pinching at the stubborn flesh on my thighs that no number of squats could get rid of. ‘I’m pretty sure working out is killing my will to live.’

‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ she asked, blatantly ignoring my pity-party. ‘Spending it with Angie and Alex again?’

Again. Ew.

‘Way to make me sound like a super loser,’ I said. ‘As it happens, Angie yes, Alex no. He’s still on tour, remember?’

‘Oh yeah.’ She shook her head and smiled. ‘I suck. Why is it that I can manage fifty women with one hand tied behind my back, but when you leave me at home with two kids under three, I lose my mind inside two days?’

‘You have me to help out in the office,’ I reasoned. ‘I’m pretty great.’

‘It’s true,’ she said, holding up a black crocodile Lanvin box bag. ‘You like?’

‘I love.’ I didn’t want to even look at the price tag. I was making good money in my job now, but I’d only just paid off all my credit cards and the exciting debt I’d managed to work up during my making shitty money period. I did not have inexpensive tastes, and living by a budget was killing me. ‘I just need a rich husband to buy it for me.’

‘What about that guy?’ Erin nodded towards a tall, blond guy in a black wool coat across the way. ‘Cute, cute, cute.’

‘Married, married, married,’ I replied. ‘Why else would he be shopping in Barneys four days before Christmas?’

‘Good son? Divorced dad?’ Erin rattled through her list of possibilities. ‘Gay?’

He caught me looking and smiled before I could look away.

‘Oh God,’ I whispered. ‘He’s gay.’

‘Let’s go find out,’ she said, her eyes bright with the kind of courage that only came to married women who had nothing to lose. I had forgotten how much she liked to play wingman, and apparently I’d also lost my balls. Suddenly, I was petrified.

‘Hi, wow, those are some nice pieces.’

Erin propped herself up on the glass counter beside the man. I peeped over her shoulder sheepishly, fully aware that while he might not be able to see my face, he could definitely see my hair. Today was the day it had decided to be huge, and today was the day I had decided I didn’t care enough to do anything about it. So of course this was happening.

‘Who are you buying for?’

It was brazen. It was brilliant. It was straight out of the Jenny Lopez playbook.

Or at least it used to be. I couldn’t remember the last time I had hit on a guy. I could barely remember the last time I’d had sex, and in all honesty, I kind of wished I could forget it anyway. It had not been good.

‘Um, my assistant,’ the man replied, waving his hand over the counter. No wedding ring. Score. ‘But I’m not sure which one he would like the best.’

Erin considered the four almost identical black leather wallets on the counter.

‘Straight or gay?’ she asked.

‘Wha … ahh … I’m straight?’ the man said, tiny spots of red flushing in his cheeks. Oh, le swoon.

‘Not you!’ Erin gave a tiny laugh that would have put Tinkerbell to shame and rested her hand on the man’s forearm. ‘Your assistant.’

‘Oh, sure, of course.’ His stammer only made him cuter, I thought, as he pushed his hand through his expensive haircut. Blond, tall, tan in the middle of winter and shopping at Barneys. Just how I liked ’em. ‘He’s gay.’

‘You know what, I am really bad at choosing gifts for other people,’ Erin said, stepping back and pushing me in front of our new friend. ‘But Jenny has the best taste. She used to be a stylist, actually. I bet she could pick the right one.’

Oh, she was so good.

‘Hi,’ I said, trying to comb my hair down and shake his hand at the same time. ‘I’m Jenny.’

‘Joe,’ the man replied. ‘Joseph. Although no one calls me Joseph any more.’

‘Would you like me to?’ I asked, wishing I’d had time to put on lip gloss. ‘Make you feel all important?’

He blushed again and I felt Erin pat me on the ass before sneaking away to look at the Philip Lim bags.

‘So, we want a wallet for your assistant,’ I said, looking over the shop assistant’s selection. They were all pretty nice − Fendi, Saint Laurent, Dries Van Noten. ‘Can I ask a sensitive question?’

Joe smiled. ‘Please do.’

‘When you say he’s gay,’ I asked, ‘how gay are we talking?’

‘We work in a pretty conservative law firm,’ he replied. ‘And everyone knows.’

‘Great, he’s out and proud, that makes this easy.’ I pointed towards the black studded Saint Laurent billfold. ‘That’s the one.’

‘You’re sure?’ he said. ‘You don’t think the one with the chain?’

‘You want him to know you appreciate him and totally support who he is, right?’ I said, nodding to the assistant to fetch a new, boxed-up wallet. ‘You don’t want to suggest he come into the office in a leather gimp suit and spank you.’

Joe’s eyes widened for a moment.

‘Unless you do?’ I stopped breathing, my heart pounding and sinking at the same time.

‘Oh, no-no-no!’ He waved his hands at me so fast they were just a blur. ‘I mean, at least not in the office anyway. I’m a partner, it’s frowned upon.’

‘Shows what I know,’ I said, exhaling loudly. ‘I thought that was the kind of thing that would get you boosted up to senior partner.’

‘Maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong.’ His big green eyes sparkled. But then everything sparkled under the lights in Barneys. ‘Any more career advice?’

‘Hmm.’ I looked away for a moment and then looked back. Got him. ‘Usually it’s a two-drink minimum.’

I could feel myself bubbling up. I remembered this! This was flirting! It was fun!

‘That sounds fair,’ he said, handing a black Amex to the assistant and a white business card to me. I kind of wished it was the other way around, but hey, baby steps. ‘This is me, but maybe I should take your number? In case I have any urgent questions?’

‘Okay, but only if they’re super urgent,’ I said, my hand shaking a little as I dived into my purse for a business card. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise.’ He tucked my card into his wallet and showed off his pricey orthodontic work. I was a sucker for a killer smile. ‘I’ll speak to you soon, Miss Lopez.’

Without another word, I smiled, shrugged and turned to walk away. It would not be cool for him to see how ridiculously excited I was.

My very first Christmas miracle.

Chapter Three

‘Erin White PR, Happy holidays.’

When I closed my eyes at night, I could hear those words ringing in my ears. It was chilling. Our receptionist shot me a bright grin every time she answered the phone, but on this particular Monday morning, her good mood wasn’t catching. It was only December 22nd and I was so over Christmas. I still couldn’t twist my brain round the fact that Jeff had impregnated another woman, and the buzz from my Barneys boyfriend had totally worn off already. It had been twenty-four hours and he hadn’t called. The three-day rule meant nothing these days: Tinder had destroyed all sense of social grace when it came to dating and so I figured I wouldn’t be hearing from him now so close to the holidays. And Angie kept pooh-poohing all of my plans for the day itself. Right now, all I wanted to do was dig out my John Hughes box set, order eighteen pizzas and call the whole thing off.

Kicking off my dumb I’m-the-boss-so-it-doesn’t-matter-that-these-bad-boys-are-too-high-to-walk-in heels, I stumbled round my desk and pushed the door to my office shut with a thunk. I had to admit, I wasn’t exactly full of the season of goodwill. Everyone in the office was winding down. Half the girls were already on vacation, and everyone else was buzzing with holiday plans and New Year’s excitement. I could tell they’d already given up: more than half of them were wearing jeans.

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