1
I ’M GOING TO MISS MY train! That was all I could think of as I dashed through the stately entrance to Philadelphia’s majestic 30th Street Station. My best friend Lauren, with all her connections, had scored a bunch of coveted tickets to the Black Eyed Peas concert in Central Park, and I was among those she had chosen to be among her entourage… so I had to be home by seven, shower, and get dressed. I rushed past the tempting food court toward the information center. The old-fashioned flip-letter Amtrak Train information board made a ticking sound as it updated arrivals and departures. I glanced up. Shit! My train to Penn Station was leaving in five minutes from Gate 5. My eyes darted around the elegant art-deco station for the escalator leading down to the train platform. Despite how many times I had been in this vast station over the past several months, I never knew where I was going. My sense of direction was nothing to be proud of.
My eyes bounced from the famous Angel of the Resurrection statue to another bronzed statue. A god. A 6’2” golden-haired Adonis perched on the VIP mezzanine. Even from this distant vantage point, I could I could tell he was wearing one of those super-expensive custom- tailored beige suits that New York’s tycoons donned once Spring hit. It made a stunning contrast with his St. Tropez tan, the kind wealthy Manhattanites sported all year round. With his expensive designer glasses perched on his perfectly blown flaxen hair, he looked like he was right out of GQ.
I couldn’t get my eyes off him. The sight of him made my knees weak and my heart hammer. I had dreamt of men like this, but they were way out of my league. The chance of ever meeting one was unlikely. Make that never. I was a geeky, recent college who, after several false starts, had finally landed an entry-level job at Ike’s Tikes, an established New York City toy company, and was struggling to make ends meet. Beautiful men were just not in my cards. They never had been. But my mom had always told me it was okay to dream. And for a minute, as Adonis pivoted his head in my direction, I imagined his eyes burning across the station into mine.
A booming voice put an end to my reverie—and the pulsating I felt between my legs. “Last call for Amtrak 148 to Penn Station boarding at Gate 5.” In a blink of an eye, Adonis was gone. Out of my life and dreams forever. My heart rate accelerated as my eyes flickered around the expansive station for the gate sign. Finally, I found it and began to run, my messenger-style leather bag flying behind me. The escalator descending to the train platform was out of order. Thank goodness, I was wearing my trusty combat boots. At breakneck speed, I clambered down the daunting three flights of stairs, praying that the train wouldn’t leave without me.
“Wait!” I screamed as the automatic doors of the sleek silver train were closing. I skimmed through one of them, narrowly missing being a smooshed sardine.
Breathing heavy, I staggered through the car, desperately searching for a seat. Nothing. It was rush hour and every seat was taken. Maybe I would have better luck in the next car, I thought as I wobbled across the connecting bridge, the train rolling into motion. I so needed to sit down, catch my breath, and relax. I was exhausted and rundown. Not just from my sprint to the train, but from months of juggling my Manhattan-based job as the assistant to a demanding female executive with visits to my ailing mother who was receiving experimental cancer treatments at the world-renowned Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. Seeing my mother in her weakened state, hooked up to IV’s and machines, never helped no matter how cheery she was when I came to see her.
As the train picked up speed, I struggled to keep my balance and open the sliding door to the next car. Using all the muscle power I could, I finally yanked it open and tumbled into the cabin. This car was different than the
I ’M GOING TO MISS MY train! That was all I could think of as I dashed through the stately entrance to Philadelphia’s majestic 30th Street Station. My best friend Lauren, with all her connections, had scored a bunch of coveted tickets to the Black Eyed Peas concert in Central Park, and I was among those she had chosen to be among her entourage… so I had to be home by seven, shower, and get dressed. I rushed past the tempting food court toward the information center. The old-fashioned flip-letter Amtrak Train information board made a ticking sound as it updated arrivals and departures. I glanced up. Shit! My train to Penn Station was leaving in five minutes from Gate 5. My eyes darted around the elegant art-deco station for the escalator leading down to the train platform. Despite how many times I had been in this vast station over the past several months, I never knew where I was going. My sense of direction was nothing to be proud of.
My eyes bounced from the famous Angel of the Resurrection statue to another bronzed statue. A god. A 6’2” golden-haired Adonis perched on the VIP mezzanine. Even from this distant vantage point, I could I could tell he was wearing one of those super-expensive custom- tailored beige suits that New York’s tycoons donned once Spring hit. It made a stunning contrast with his St. Tropez tan, the kind wealthy Manhattanites sported all year round. With his expensive designer glasses perched on his perfectly blown flaxen hair, he looked like he was right out of GQ.
I couldn’t get my eyes off him. The sight of him made my knees weak and my heart hammer. I had dreamt of men like this, but they were way out of my league. The chance of ever meeting one was unlikely. Make that never. I was a geeky, recent college who, after several false starts, had finally landed an entry-level job at Ike’s Tikes, an established New York City toy company, and was struggling to make ends meet. Beautiful men were just not in my cards. They never had been. But my mom had always told me it was okay to dream. And for a minute, as Adonis pivoted his head in my direction, I imagined his eyes burning across the station into mine.
A booming voice put an end to my reverie—and the pulsating I felt between my legs. “Last call for Amtrak 148 to Penn Station boarding at Gate 5.” In a blink of an eye, Adonis was gone. Out of my life and dreams forever. My heart rate accelerated as my eyes flickered around the expansive station for the gate sign. Finally, I found it and began to run, my messenger-style leather bag flying behind me. The escalator descending to the train platform was out of order. Thank goodness, I was wearing my trusty combat boots. At breakneck speed, I clambered down the daunting three flights of stairs, praying that the train wouldn’t leave without me.
“Wait!” I screamed as the automatic doors of the sleek silver train were closing. I skimmed through one of them, narrowly missing being a smooshed sardine.
Breathing heavy, I staggered through the car, desperately searching for a seat. Nothing. It was rush hour and every seat was taken. Maybe I would have better luck in the next car, I thought as I wobbled across the connecting bridge, the train rolling into motion. I so needed to sit down, catch my breath, and relax. I was exhausted and rundown. Not just from my sprint to the train, but from months of juggling my Manhattan-based job as the assistant to a demanding female executive with visits to my ailing mother who was receiving experimental cancer treatments at the world-renowned Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. Seeing my mother in her weakened state, hooked up to IV’s and machines, never helped no matter how cheery she was when I came to see her.
As the train picked up speed, I struggled to keep my balance and open the sliding door to the next car. Using all the muscle power I could, I finally yanked it open and tumbled into the cabin. This car was different than the