December 11th, 1989

December 11th, 1989
Christopher’s apartment
73rd Street, New York

Woke up feeling like I was suffering from hypothermia and when I looked at the clock it was just after three in the morning. I knew there was no way I could stay in a room with no heat, so I rang the front desk and they managed to move me to another room.

The last time I felt that cold was when Lucy was at Leeds Uni. I remember spending the weekend with her in the house she shared and being so cold that my teeth chattered, even when. I was in bed!

I spent the day with Lydia and much to my surprise she mentioned she’d never been to the Empire State. I don’t need an excuse to visit what I think is one of the most amazing places and as always, it was packed but we did manage to get to the observation deck. Unfortunately, Lydia was scheduled to fly home tonight with another crew, so I didn’t get to share my favourite bar with her!

I met Frankie as planned in the hotel lobby just as she was arriving with her crew.
“This lot are a naff bunch of drips,” she whispered when we hugged.

The minute we reached Frankie’s room, she rang Robert and when he told her he wouldn’t be joining us, she put on her little pouty face and cooed about how disappointed she was. Christopher told me a while ago that Robert has a serious girlfriend and when she found out about Frankie she hit the roof and told Robert if it happened again she’d finish with him. The girl in question (according to Christopher) is from a very prominent New York family and Robert has no intention of ruining his chances of a life of luxury.

Caught a cab with Frankie in her sleeveless, sparkly top to the Iguana bar. Christopher arrived about an hour later after what he called, “a bitch of a day” with his job at MTV. I had a margarita waiting for him and he just about downed it in one. I swear he was smiling while he guzzled it down!

As always, it was lovely to see him and if he lived in the UK, we’d spend a lot of time together. I don’t fancy him at all and I think the feeling is mutual (not according to Frankie, but what does a girl who wears short sleeves out in December know!)

In the packed Iguana, Frankie got chatted up by approximately five hundred guys and took full advantage of the ample free drinks, during which time Christopher and I chatted.
“What’s the latest in the B and K saga?” he asked, grinning.
I never hold back when I talk to Christopher about Ben and he usually has good advice. I told him about Nana and unlike when I spoke to David on the phone, Christopher’s concern came across as sincere (which doesn’t mean David wasn’t sincere, perhaps it was just the way I was feeling at the time.)

When Christopher leaned in to give me a hug, I spotted Frankie behind him, dancing on the bar with a tall guy!
“Look,” I said, tapping Christopher’s shoulder to get him to turn around.
“Holy shit”, he exclaimed. “That’s Gene Anthony Ray.”
“The guy from Fame?”
Christopher nodded yes and started clapping.

Frankie and the fame guy danced as if they’d been rehearsing for months and we responded by whistling and cheering loudly. I watched in wonder as they made their way across the bar, all the while wondering how Frankie was able to remain upright.

When the dancing was over, I started to replace Frankie’s free drinks with soft ones and fortunately she was too far gone at that point to notice. I mentioned to Christopher that I should probably get the midnight dancer back to the hotel.

“Let’s take a cab to my apartment,” he suggested. “She,” he said, gesturing to Frankie, deep in conversation with a very short guy, “might be too much for you to handle.”
“Good point,” I agreed.

Attempting to get Frankie from the bar, to the street and into the cab was no small feat. With Frankie sandwiched between us in the back seat of the cab, Christopher looked at her and smiled. “You’re something else,” he said, in a way I didn’t think was intended as a compliment.

In Christopher’s apartment, Frankie slouched on the couch and asked for a “little dwinkie please.”
“Sure,” Christopher said, pouring coke into a glass. “You want coke with your Jack Daniel’s, Frankie?” he asked, winking at me.
“Yes please lovely American boy,” she slurred, as she slid into her sleeping position on the couch.

Christopher and I sat in his tiny kitchen trying our best to ignore magic dancer’s snoring!
“I guess you better spend the night,” he said.
“Do you mind?”
He shook his head, no. “Man, she’s a handful, huh?”
I laughed. “Don’t let the tiny dancer fool you.”
“Do you need something to wear?” He asked.
“I say mister R, that’s rather forward.”

He came back a few minutes later holding a pair of pyjama’s
“You have to be kidding,” I said when I noticed the monogrammed cuffs.
“Sorry, “he said, blushing. “They were a gift from my Mother.,”
“I’m just teasing you, they’re lovely. You’ve never worn them?”
“No, ” he said, shaking his head. “I was saving them for you.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Go put ‘em on and I’ll make you tea and toast.”
“You’re too sweet,” I said, heading for the bathroom.

The bottoms were much too long so I rolled them halfway up my legs and when I went back into the living room Christopher took one look at me and started laughing. Frankie stirred and mumbled something.
“What’s that Frankie?” I asked.
“Where’s Leroy?”

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