JENNY LOPEZ HAS A BAD WEEK: AN I HEART SHORT STORY. Lindsey Kelk

I closed my eyes and conjured up my dream guy. ‘Blond. Tan. Handsome but, you know, like in a goofy way? Maybe he has crooked teeth or something?’

      ‘But nothing that would push him out of the handsome category?’

      ‘Oh god no,’ I said, my eyes still closed. ‘I don’t know, maybe he’d be an architect or something. Or a teacher. Something he was passionate about.’

      ‘Location preferences?’

      ‘I’m not that picky,’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘But Manhattan would be convenient.’

      ‘Oh, you know what!’ Angela’s voice was full of delight. ‘Alex has a friend who meets those requirements exactly!’

      ‘He does?’ I opened my eyes to see her deadpan expression.

      ‘No. Of course he bloody doesn’t.’

      ‘Bitch.’

      We ate our ice cream in silence for a while, making as much headway as possible before it started to melt. It was super-hot for the time of year but I was fine with it. I could handle a lot more heat than Angie. Between May and September, she pretty much always looked as if she was on the verge of passing out.

      ‘Have you put the ad on Craigslist for a roommate yet?’ She changed the subject successfully. ‘You can’t afford to keep that apartment on your own. Especially if you’re not working.’

      ‘Well, Debbie Downer, no, I haven’t.’ Our friend Vanessa had been renting the spare room in the apartment formerly known as ‘our place’, but now it was just me. Cue violins. ‘I was really hoping someone would turn up, like a friend of a friend or something? I’m terrified I’m gonna end up with the Craigslist Killer as a roomie.’

      ‘I think he was mostly operating out of Long Island,’ Angie reasoned. ‘Although we are relatively close to Grand Central, so the commute wouldn’t be too bad for him.’

      ‘True.’ She made a good point. ‘I’ve always been so lucky with friends or friends of friends, you know?’

      ‘Or complete strangers who just arrived in the country?’

      No reply necessary. Just a look.

      ‘Excuse me?’

      A heavily accented voice disturbed my death stare. But I didn’t mind. When I turned to see who was so rudely interrupting my non-verbal smackdown my eyes hit one of the hottest guys I had ever seen. At crotch level. Skinny black pants ran into a slim-fit pale denim shirt, the top two buttons unfastened to reveal a tastefully tan chest. A chest that was connected to a neck that was connected to a breathtakingly pretty face. A face shaded with jaw length, silky, silky blond hair.

      ‘Oh,’ I heard myself say out loud. Angela nudged me hard in the ribs. I dropped my ice cream. The man smiled. I believed all of these actions to be related.

      ‘Excuse me, I am sorry to interrupt.’ The sun shining through his almost white-blond hair did nothing to persuade me he was in fact not a god. ‘I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and I had to jump in.’

      ‘Had to?’ Angela hadn’t got the memo about super-hot guys never being suspicious in any way.

      ‘Yes.’ He missed her sarcasm, thank god. ‘I just moved to New York from Sweden. I’m a model.’

      I turned to smile at Angela with eyes as big as saucers. Happy, happy saucers. ‘He’s a model,’ I repeated.

      Regardless, the model went on. ‘My name is Sigge and, so far, I haven’t really met anyone other than the other models in the apartment I’ve been crashing at. But I hear you’re the person to come to for friends when you’re new to the country?’

      It wasn’t the best pick-up line ever, but damn it, the boy was only a model and he was working with what he had.

      ‘Yes, sir.’ If this was my karmic gift for getting my shit together after Angie’s big Jeff announcement, I was fine with it.

      ‘She’s the best,’ Angela confirmed. ‘New York’s finest tour guide and roommate.’

      ‘You’re looking for a roommate,’ Sigge nodded. ‘This is what I heard when I was coming out of the nail salon. I am looking for somewhere to live.’

      Ahh, maaan. Hopes dashed. Heart broken. Everything falling into place. Dude needed a place to live, not me by his side, forever and ever.

      ‘Anyway, could I have your number?’ He asked. I tried not to show how badly I wanted to get up and punch karma in the balls. Not cool, karma, not cool at all.

      ‘Sure.’ Scribbling my cell down on the receipt from the ice-cream place, I handed it over with as much of a smile as I could muster. ‘I’m around Friday if you want to come over then?’

      ‘Friday is perfect,’ he replied. Seriously, I was so the New York welcome wagon. Except, uh, that didn’t sound ok. ‘And I am so sorry, I did not get your name?’

      I closed my eyes and smiled politely. ‘Jenny. Jenny Lopez.’

      Awkward pause.

      ‘Like the pop singer!’ He tucked the number into the back pocket of his pants. ‘She is one of my favourites.’

      ‘Yeah. She’s great.’

      One day, when I was the new hipper, hotter Oprah, I would destroy the producers of American Idol for resurrecting that woman’s career. Doesn’t matter how cute you are if every time you introduce yourself to a guy they immediately compare you to People magazine’s most beautiful person on the planet.

      ‘I am so glad I got my manicure here today.’ He leaned down to kiss me on both cheeks. Forward, but still, if we were going to be roomies … ‘Friday.’

      ‘Partyin’ partyin’ yeah,’ I sighed.

      As soon as Sigge’s perfect ass had disappeared around the corner, Angela burst out laughing.

      ‘Oh maaan,’ she said, in between fits of hysteria. ‘You’re really going to move in with a gay male model who cares more about his cuticles than you do?’

      ‘I care about my cuticles,’ I pouted, reviewing my manicure. ‘And what makes you think he’s gay?’

      Aside from the manicure, the fact he’s a male model, a lover of Jennifer Lopez, and that when he walked off down the street every gay man in Williamsburg checked him out?

      ‘Do I really have to dignify that with a response?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Is it because he’s really gay?’

      ‘That’s probably it.’

      ‘Maybe I could turn him?’

      Angela gave me the look. ‘Not even you, gorgeous.’

      She eyed my ice-cream casualty on the sidewalk and handed over the remains of her cone.

      ‘I really did think the universe had come through for you,’ she said. ‘When he said hello, I nearly wet myself. Tall, blond, tanned. Too handsome, obviously, but still. It was like you’d manifested the man.’

      ‘Cosmic ordering,’ I agreed. ‘Note to self for next time. Must specify, not gay.’

      ‘It helps,’ she nodded. ‘It helps.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      I crashed through my apartment door the next morning after my run, and threw myself into the refrigerator. It was hot as balls outside and it wasn’t even nine a.m. Pulling out my earbuds, I dropped my iPhone on the counter and my ass on the couch. I would never be one of those girls who loved to work out – every step was agony for me – but, as my mom liked to remind me, it took the right kind of bait to catch the right kind of fish and there was a whole heap more bait in NYC than there were fish.