After we checked in, and I convinced Sweetman I was in the mood for pizza not the wild nasty, we headed out to Fifth Ave. Shopping central. This is Sweetman’s heaven, and my pure drudgery. I followed behind, eyes glazed over. Shopping sucks. I blame it on my mother(that’s another blog).
He drags me up and down the city sidewalk while I dodge being trampled on. New Yorker’s walk defensively and have no patience. They’re always in a hurry. What’s up with that? I’m a Florida girl, we do things a little slower. Besides, I’m on vacation. They should be happy I’m there spending my money in their city to help their economy, which by the way looked to be doing fine.
Anyway, he dragged me into H Stern Jewelers. He looked for a piece of jewelry for me. Sweet. Right? That’s why I named him Sweetman. He’d like to buy me tennis bracelet. Something dainty. So we looked. Quite frankly, I’m overwhelmed by all the cases of bling-bling. Hot flashes run through me and my heart palpitates.
An Asian man approached us. “Can I help you with anything?”
Really, I’d like to leave, I thought.
Sweetman follows the the guy around the glass-boxed jewelry maze. “Of course. I’m looking for a tennis bracelet for my wife.”
Another Asian man bumps into me on the way to where ever Sweetman is leading me.
“Oh. My. God. I’m so sorry, miss.” The man brushes me off. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to---“
“It’s all good. No problem,” I said. What? So he bumped into me. Really? He treated me like a piece of expensive China. In Florida, we apologize and move on. No big deal.
The man ranted his apology over and over again as I passed. I’m not even a famous writer, yet.
I looked over my shoulder at him. “Really. It’s all good.”
Sweetman pulled me toward the destination of inspection. A table and chair surrounded by more boxes of bling-bling. OMG. My heart rattled more in my chest, and my hands got clammy.
“My name is Scott,” he said. “Can I get you anything to drink? Wine?” His eyes pace back from me to Sweetman.
“Water would be nice,” I said.
Sweetman grunted something.
The clerk disappeared for about three minutes and returned with two glasses of water.
We took the glasses. I tried to sip mine but I gulped it instead, tuning out the conversation between my husband and the clerk.
Before I knew it, boxes of bracelets were being shoved into my face. It overwhelmed me.
“What do you think?” Sweetman asked, removing a strand of diamond chunks from the box.
“They’re big. Really big.” My eyes urged to fall onto the floor. “Too big.”
Sweetman held up the strand, looking at Scott. “How much is this one?”
“Seven thousand dollars.”
I think I swallowed my eyes, chugging down more water.
“No. I don’t want to spend that much,” Sweetman said. “Do you have anything else? Smaller perhaps?”
“Unfortunately, no.” The salesman frowned.
Good, I thought. It’s not like I want to be robber-bate. It’s bad enough I’m wearing fancy black undies and a bra through New York City. Dressed, of course.
To be continued next week….
Brooks Brothers. Gotham. And, Max Brenner.
Happy blogging, writing, and reading!
PS Save a library!
PSS Read some blogs this morning on my Google Reader. It’s faster but I don’t believe you can read the comments. Still trying to figure that thing out.