Page 364 of The Doctors Will See You Now

They had to.

Taxis buzzed past me going sixty and screeched to zero in a heartbeat at the command of a traffic light turned red.

Impatient horns honked their love language, tempering the restless drivers as they waited to be released from their hold and jockeyed for position.

Pedestrians littered the sidewalks, and street vendors sat behind their tables doing their best to convince passersby to snag their goods.

And a mid-seventies man with a hunchback and a pink tutu over a thong combed the sidewalk in front of me, offering to do a dance in exchange for some booze money.

I’m back, bitches.

New York City—the one and only city that always felt like home. And, good God, she was just as gorgeous and eclectic and stubborn and vibrant as she was the day I’d left her some twelve odd years ago. Sure, I’d visited—the old girl’s stubborn lure was too strong to resist in her entirety—but it wasn’t the same as knowing this was where I’d be living from here on out.

Everything had come full circle, and the job that had once stolen me away from the Big Apple had finally led me right back to my favorite place in the entire world.

Chase Murray International, or CMI for short, was my employer, and I’d been working for the world-renowned firm ever since I’d graduated from NYU. Specializing in international marketing and advertising executives and elite healthcare professionals, we only scouted the most sought after CEOs and talented medical professionals in the world.

My specialty: physicians. Surgeons, to be specific.

Even though my degree from NYU was in business, and I had zero healthcare experience, I’d proved over the years that I had a knack for finding only the best surgeons. And I was even better at convincing them to leave their current place of employment and relocate to a hospital that needed and desired their expertise.

It wasn’t necessarily what I’d planned out for my career, but over the years, I’d grown to love the freedom my job allowed.

I worked my own schedule, set my own hours, and had the capability of doing everything on my own time.

And it was a lot less physically strenuous than something like stripping. Instead of spending my time keeping my figure trim, I wooed people by taking them out to dinner.

Food for the win!

It was a dream, to be honest. And the only negative I’d found was the demand for relocation.

But CMI had made some changes, and now, I’d be permanently in New York with the occasional need for travel.

Not to mention, I’d finally be able to utilize my separate savings account that I’d not-so-creatively titled “house fund.”

Ever since I’d started working for CMI, I’d been stockpiling money away for the hope of purchasing my own home, but I’d never stayed in one place long enough to even consider looking for a house. But now, I was back in my city, and not only would I be enjoying the sights and sounds and energetic vibe, but I’d also have my eyes wide open for real estate.

Fingers and toes and legs crossed I find something sooner rather than later, because living in a sardine-box-sized apartment in Chinatown is no easy feat.

“Hey! Watch it, lady!” a cabbie shouted out of his window as I crossed the street, and then honked his horn twice for good measure.

I startled, nearly dropping my briefcase to the ground, but then, then I smiled.

New York. Good God, she was beautiful.

The lights of Times Square danced and swirled in the late afternoon sun as I headed toward the subway station on 42nd to catch the Shuttle to Grand Central. I’d taken a detour, the long route, so to speak, but it was all in the name of seeing and breathing and just living my city again.

Hell, twelve years ago, I would’ve avoided Times Square like the plague. All of those tourists milling about, crowding the sidewalks, and making it damn near impossible to get anywhere faster than at a snail’s pace—nauseating.

But not today.

Today, I celebrated. I strolled past Times Square with my earbuds pumping Taylor Swift’s “Welcome to New York” in my ears and a giant, stupid smile on my face. I’d only been back a week and was still living out of cardboard boxes inside the small apartment I’d rented in Chinatown, but I couldn’t be happier because New York.

It was the best city in the world.

Most of us were exiles, looking for something we didn’t find in our small town or another city that just couldn’t give us what we needed. Even Paris or London or Los Angeles. No other city compared to the Big Apple.

It was the city that asked nothing of us, except that we make ourselves brand-new.