I rolled over with a stretch and a yawn. I hated mornings yet I woke up like clockwork at the exact same time. I could have passed out drunk at seven a.m. and by eight-thirty, I’m awake. If I’m hung over, I force myself to return to slumber. If I’m not, I stare at the ceiling and ponder why I’m awake. Outside, the rain was dancing on the windows of my apartment. It reminded me of chimes being played and almost lulled me back to sleep but my internal alarm clock has no snooze button and I was now awake for the day.
“Bastard internal alarm clock,” I cursed to myself.
Sliding out of bed, I had only one goal in mind and that was to fix myself a cup of hot chocolate and collapse onto the couch with my laptop. I was knee deep in revisions and my agent was salivating at the door for my soul’s work. At least she didn’t leave me as my writing dry spell hit. I thought she was insane for hanging it out for so long, but I was also grateful for her. She had been my only cheerleader and had been the only one who really pushed me forward in my career. My friends were there for me but they didn’t understand the business part of writing. They did understand when I disappeared off the radar to write and were there for me when I came out of the bunker needing conversation that was real versus the ones that are in my head.
After my daily hot chocolate was made, I sat on the couch but instead of working, my head was in the clouds and I am staring out the window and into the rain. My thoughts are on the most beautiful human that has ever existed and a thousand and one things I should have done to meet him. I run through the list until I find myself dozing off. Sighing, I etched into my memory the vision of him sitting at the opposite end of the bar in his tailored to perfection suit with the tie that hung loose from his neck and the jacket that was opened. His intense eyes let me know that the man he was speaking with was his only focus. I wanted nothing more than to be caught in that stare. I wanted to try to match his intensity with my own.
The phone rang, snapping out of my mental cloud and back to reality.
Damn reality gets me every time.
“Did I leave my credit card again?”
“No. Why do you always ask that when I call?”
I shrugged my shoulders and then realized he couldn’t see me. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Why are you calling me at this time? Shouldn’t you still be asleep?”
“Yeah, but I need a ride.”
“A ride where?”
“Where are you?”
“Don’t know. I was hoping you’d come pick me up.”
“Well how I am supposed to come and pick you up if you don’t know where you are?”
There was silence on his end of the phone. “I think I’m near Red Square. I can meet you there. I’ll buy you breakfast or brunch in one of the restaurants.”
I rolled my eyes and slid further into the comfort of my couch. Red Square was smack dab in the middle of town. It was the busiest place on earth as three banking leaders, six high-powered attorney offices, and two major sporting offices fed off of the bustling center. Not to mention that Red Square had a series of its own shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues that kept it busy as well. Sighing, I closed my eyes. “Why don’t you just get a cab? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“Again, I don’t know where am I.”
“You don’t have your wallet do you?”
“I don’t have the cash for a cab but I do have cash to buy you food. Come on, what do you say?”
“Oh all right,” I sighed. “I’ve got to shower first.”
“Can’t you just throw some sweats on?”
“Yes, but I’m not. Red Square is pretentious and snotty so I will put on proper clothes. You have to walk anyway, so that should give us both plenty of time.”
“Let’s meet at the stupid little book store you like.”
“That book store is not stupid. It’s an independent heaven to all things written.”
“Whatever. Meet you there. Bye.”
“Bye,” I said to the buzzing silence. Roman was so going to owe me for picking him up, but I wasn’t annoyed by it. I knew I would hear a great story that I could use as inspiration for something I could write later on. I could have turned Roman’s romantic failures into a series of books and made millions, but it just didn’t see right to make fun of someone who tried so damn hard at finding the love of his life.
T his page copyright © 2009 Shelia Taylor
All rights reserved | This is an excerpt of the rough draft and not the final version