***Hey all! I’ve been attaching featured images to some of these posts on my twitter, so be sure to check out my twitter if you’d like to see them! Enjoy the post! Soul xo***
“What’s on the agenda today?” Daniel asked.
I yawned, still in bed and under the sheets. “It’s so early, how are you up?”
“What can I say, I’m beginning to be an early bird.”
“I’m still on nocturnal time.” I yawned again.
Daniel chuckled. “Too bad I’m not there to wake you up.”
I bit my lip and turned onto my side. “Mmm if you were here I would never leave the bed.”
“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not there then,” he laughed. “Wouldn’t want to get you fired.”
I laughed. “Two broke-ass kids in New York. I think that’d be fun.”
“More like a survival horror movie.”
I cackled loudly, and when I did I turned onto my back and choked on my own saliva. I dropped the phone so Daniel didn’t hear my crazy coughing and breathing like I was drowning.
“You okay?” he asked when I brought the phone back to my ear.
“I’m fine,” I croaked. “I’m awake now, that’s for sure.”
“I bet.” I could hear his smile through the phone. “So,” he pushed on, “what’s happening today?”
Our first meeting was the L.A Review at a hip Japanese restaurant downtown. I should’ve been excited to see how interviews work and how the L.A Review treats the author their interested in, but all I could think of was sushi, sushi, sushi! Is it too early for sushi? I’m assuming so. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat sushi in the morning. For lunch, yes; dinner, yes, but I have the appetite of a Lioness so it never fills me up. Either way, I’ve never seen anyone eat sushi in the morning.
I soon learned the reason why we were invited to a Japanese restaurant. Even though prices were still expensive for a trendy restaurant downtown, the least that David, Brad and Steven—the reporter—were ordering were drinks. Did everyone eat before they came? Because I didn’t. And I’m starving. I was expecting to join them but I’ve never done anything like this before so I had no idea we weren’t going to inhale food here. I only assumed so. Maybe I should have asked David beforehand. Maybe that’s stupid; ‘hey, David, are we eating out as well?’ Yeah, that would’ve been a great conversation!
“…and it’s always been an interest of mine,” Brad explained. “Family dynamics. Wealth and forbidden desires. Betrayal and loss over love. Who can resist such a story?”
“Indeed,” Steven smiled. He wore a grey suit jacket with a navy blue polo shirt and dark blue chinos. He had a balding head, greys crowning the back from ear to ear and rectangular glasses with wiry handles. He appeared in his mid-40s and had thin lips, a wide nose with a bump in the middle of the bridge, and blue eyes. He had his voice recorder in the middle of the table, a notepad in his lap, steadied by his left hand, and a Cartier pen in the right. I hardly saw him acknowledge me and I didn’t know how I should feel about that.
I wondered if I should give him my number just in case I rack up the courage to write a book one day and get it out there. Then he’ll see me as that girl that ‘made it’. Currently, I’m chicken-shit. There’s an advice that is given to writers more often than not that I hate: write what you know. For a profession that has no limitations, that advice is the most limiting. It hurts a writer than improves. I can’t tell you how often I’ve rolled my eyes every time I’ve been told this piece of gold-plated phrase. I so often wanted to tell my professor that it wasn’t right. At least not to me. But I knew that if I did, they’d roll their eyes at me. And I didn’t want that. It just wasn’t worth the expression.
My stomach growled mid-Brad’s sentence and all three turned their heads. I clutched my stomach and avoided all their gazes, staring only beyond them as I sat with round, bulging eyes. I could only feel a rush of heat clouding my skin, my eyes watering. Rarely do I ever get embarrassed, well, anyway, in this moment, I didn’t want to be remembered by Steven as the girl that interrupted their interview because her stomach couldn’t contain itself.
“Would anyone like a top up?” I asked. My ears were blocked from the embarrassment that I could barely hear my voice. I could only hope that I was whispering at a reasonable, non-strain-worthy volume.
“Yes, please,” David nodded. “Thank you.”
I bounced out of my seat quicker than Brad or Steven could reply. I spent most of the time waiting for the cups of ice-cold waters and ice-cold teas at the bar. I chowed down some peanuts, trying to suppress my appetite as graciously and quickly as I could—the bartender throwing me greasies here and there—and then returned to the table. My waitressing skills rusty, but coming in handy as I swiftly placed the cups on the table and sat back down unnoticed, glad I didn’t interrupt them the second time.
I hope my stomach doesn’t make a cameo in the article.
David stuffed in a couple more interviews before the Cosmopolitan party tonight. I had hoped I can hop out and see my parents and friends, but it seems I’m going to have to anticipate these little surprise scheduled interviews and events. And because of these surprise interviews, the day went on abruptly, and soon enough, 4:30PM hit and I was getting ready in the bathroom.
I was wearing a black halter neck, bare back, cocktail dress with strappy heels. I was playing with my hair in the bathroom when I received a text from Daniel.
‘Thinking of you.’
I smiled, my heart warming up. ‘Missing you,’ I sent back.
I giggled. I took a selfie—at arm’s length first, and then at the mirror for a fuller picture—and sent it to him with the caption, ‘Getting ready for the Cosmopolitan party.’
‘You look beautiful. And sexy.’
An intermission occurred—where I fixed my hair into a ponytail—before Daniel sent his own selfie. Him, slouched on the couch, shirtless and his legs apart. All I saw were abs, his smile, and his dishevelled hair crowning a carefree expression on his face. His caption: ‘Halfway into changing from work clothes and I’m already exhausted!’
I burst out laughing, the acoustics in the caramel coloured bathroom echoed my voice and stunned me. ‘Very sexy.’
He sent a wink emoji. I bit my lip in thought. Blushing as soon as the idea came to me. I lifted my dress and hiked up my leg onto the bathroom sink. I snapped a picture of half my black, sheer underwear, my pelvic line in between, and the connection of my thigh. I sent it to him without a caption.
He immediately called me. “Hey baby,” I laughed.
“Resistance is not a virtue of mine,” he said. I smiled in reminisce. “Do you have time?”
I checked the time. “Either David or Brad are going to knock on my door soon and I still have to get ready.”
He sighed. “Ugh, damn! I want you baby.” He sounded impatient. It was hot.
“Don’t get me wet.”
“But I want you wet,” he breathed. “I want you soaking wet for me. I want to eat your pussy out so badly right now.”
“Daniel,” I whispered a weak warning.
I closed my eyes and braced myself over the sink. “I want to…”
“Tell me baby,” he urged.
“I want you to—”
A knock on the door interrupted me and snapped me back into reality.
“You want me to…?” Daniel asked.
“I have to go.”
“Someone knocking on your door?” he asked disappointedly, in a monotone.
“Yeah,” I muttered apologetically. To myself as well. I mean, I want to come just as much as Daniel!
“You know what?”
“What?” I asked as I gathered my clutch and added a few essential items.
“How about when you come back, you go back to your place, and I’ll be in mine, and call each other for phone sex. That’s the way it’s looking to be right now,” he joked, chuckling.
I laughed with him. “Or maybe I can be on the couch, and you be in your room.”
“Excuse me, I’m a gentlemen, I would never allow you to take the couch.”
“And they say chivalry is dead.”
Another loud set of knocks pounded on my door. Now I have to entertain a different version of impatience. One that wasn’t hot but hot-headed.
“Okay, I really have to go.”
“Alright, babe,” Daniel said.
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Have a great time.”
The Cosmopolitan event had a red carpet that I immediately avoided and made a beeline straight to the party. The party was held on the rooftop of some building that also housed an outdoor swimming pool. The light from the pool radiated out and partially lit up the place. The rest were candles and particularly positioned lights all around, illuminating skinny girl after skinny girl, massive boobs on some, long legs on others; and muscled men. I hardly saw anyone above the age of fifty. Or maybe Botox was doing wonders on some people.
Brad did what I thought he was going to do and got drunk within minutes of arriving. David told me to handle him and make sure he doesn’t make a fool of himself. I feel like I’m going to have to have a sit down with David and actually tell him my duties as an editorial assistant don’t stretch as far as babysitting a 20-something man-child. I wouldn’t even know where to start that kind of conversation with my boss. That sort of confrontation is unfamiliar to me. I’ve never had a boss I felt I had to ‘speak’ to in those sort of terms. Well, the creative director at that advertising agency I was first at is the only boss that comes to mind, but that’s it.
Before I knew it, Brad had disappeared off to somewhere and I was frantically searching for him, only to be sure he was still alive. In my wondering and sifting through silicon and muscle I bumped straight into David, knocking his drink and spilling some of it onto his cell in his other hand.
His furious, unblinking eyes stared down at me. “Where’s Brad?” he asked, with no mention that I practically destroyed his iPhone.
I shrugged slightly, holding it up so as not to fully commit to my obliviousness. “We just got split up in the middle somewhere,” I tried sugar-coating. “I’m supposed to meet him soon but—”
“Have you seen what’s been going on?” David interjected.
“Going on? Going on with what?”
David sighed. “Check your phone. Everyone else is.”
There was no moment that I felt David was disappointed in me more as this one. Right now.
I turned around to find each party-goer on their cell, reading and flicking their fingers up the screen to scan down. Their mouths gaping, some laughing, others whispering; then the volume of mingling picked up again, the air of gossip thickening.
I opened my black, sparkly clutch and pulled out my cell. I typed in Brad’s name and the word ‘book’ in Google. Already, in the news section, were articles upon articles of Brad’s confession. Tweets and Facebook statuses were blaring.
The confession? Turns out his book is a semi-autobiography posing as fiction and he just outed his father as the character in the book that has an affair with Brad’s character’s girlfriend.
Oh shit. The clean up on this one is going to be major!
***Hi all! So apparently my book is currently free! I think I set this up a while ago, and even gave you a notification about it, but thought I’d get a notification and never did. Either way, it’s currently free so please grab your copy, share it with anyone and everyone you can and write a review! Reviews on a book are important for a writer, as I’ve been told by an author, so it’ll mean the world to me if you could. It’s free for a limited time only though, I think until Thursday\Friday. I hope you’ve enjoyed this post and I hope you enjoy the book! Here’s the link. Soul xo***