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I love coffee. Sometimes people try to switch my coffee to decaf when I’m not looking. I can always tell the difference. I also like Pringles, but only the reduced fat kind because they crunch better when you bite into them and they don’t leave grease on your fingers. I’m…

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Last week, Sean and I had our morning coffee on the balcony and watched as the Enterprise shuttle was pulled down the Hudson on a tug boat. It’s on its way to the Intrepid and I can’t wait to see it up close at the museum!

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An Oldie…but a Goodie

So I know I suck at posting lately. I apologize. Things have been a tad crazy. But here’s the beginning to a story which was a hit on the previous blog I used to write for. Enjoy!!!!

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She was short, but lean. Thin, muscular legs peaked out from beneath her denim mini skirt and small delicate feet rested in little ballet flats. Black cotton leggings wrapped around her calves and thighs to keep them warm on this brisk December day. In only a gray sweater, black scarf, and black hat that tilted over her left eye, she shivered in the 35 degree weather. She pushed the thought that she should have grabbed her peacoat before exiting her small studio apartment out of her head. It was too late now. She felt her cheeks tingle and turn numb, and knew that they were a turning natural shade of rosy; a flushed pink, the same shade of salmon that was painted on her fingernails, that stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone, across the bridge of her nose.? She hardly ever wore makeup, but when she did, it was subtle eyeliner to emphasize the one body part she was confident in—–her eyes. Today they were dark blue. The same blue you would see while visiting the ocean; a sapphire-like blue. But their color changed daily with what she was wearing. Some days they would be greenish, and other days they would look as gray as the overcast sky. On the days like today, when her eyes sparkled like sapphires, she would walk with a little bounce in her step; poise and buoyancy oozing out of these treasures that she valued more than any gemstone. And while she would never recognize or admit it, she turned heads. She turned more heads than any of the 5′10, make up caked women that surrounded her in this city. They were a sea of painted faces; floating rouge and crimson lips.

He was tall and handsome with angular features that exuded masculinity. Sandy brown hair curled playfully around his ears and as he walked, loose change jingled in the pocket of his leather jacket. He couldn’t hear the rattling over his blaring iPod. He walked in long, quick strides and as he did, his jeans rubbed against each other in a swishing type of movement. The blinking red hand instructed him and the other pedestrians to cease walking and instead of speeding up to beat traffic crossing the street as he usually does, he stopped and waited his turn.

From across the street, he saw the girl in the denim skirt. Her shoulders were tense around her ears, and every couple of seconds he could see her body tremble in the cold. Her blondish hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail underneath her hat and a couple of wavy tendrils had managed to escape from the elastic band, coiling around her jaw. She looked at the ground, fisted hands pushed deeply into the cargo pockets of her skirt. For a moment, her eyes rose and met his. Raising his eyebrows, he softly smirked at her, expecting a smile in return; for he never smiles without some form of reciprocation. Her eyes darted to left; towering over her was a leggy brunette looking as if she had just stepped out of a Prada advertisement, sporting a long white coat and a wide, toothy grin that had been, no doubt, recently bleached. Surely he was smiling at Prada Girl…

Prada girl smiled back at the man in the leather jacket. Surely he was smiling at her. The only other female within eyesight was the homely girl next to her who hadn’t even bothered to wear heels today. She seductively ran her tongue across her top lip and smiled again, waiting for his next move.

The man in the leather jacket watched the girl in the denim skirt looking at the woman in the white coat. His brow furrowed and his smile faded into a perplexed look. Mouth hanging open, his top teeth rested latently on his bottom lip. The girl returned her gaze to the ground and shifted awkwardly.

The woman in the white coat rolled her hips and changed her weight from one foot to the other so that her pelvis was slightly aimed at the man in the leather jacket. As she did, the girl next to her began walking, for the light had changed to its universal walk signal. Before her foot even reached the ground, the woman in the white coat’s long ankle tripped her, spilling items from her bag onto the grimy sidewalk.

The man in the leather jacket’s light blue eyes sparkled at the chance to be chivalrous and he quickly rushed to help her pick up the items.

The woman in the white coat saw the man hastening toward her and smiled wider, one eyebrow arched malevolently.

The girl in the denim skirt crouched, picked up each item one by one, and tried to stuff them back into her purse while the city bustled past her. People’s coats and legs brushed her right shoulder while she hurriedly tried to clean up her mess.

As the man in the leather jacket approached, the woman in the white coat parted her glossy lips, transforming her smile into an alluring pout. The tacky polish created a surreal shine that only lasted another five minutes before fading, and she had to reapply. She found it odd that his gaze was focused lower; he must have been staring at her breasts. They are, after all, rather magnificent.

Without making eye contact with the woman in the white coat, the man in the leather jacket bent down and knelt in front of the girl in the denim skirt. He flashed a more direct smile; one that couldn’t have been mistaken as being for anyone but her. His teeth were perfectly straight, like a strand of pearls and she was afraid to smile for fear of revealing her own slightly crooked, coffee-stained teeth. She silently cursed her parents for never getting her braces.

He lowered one knee to the filthy ground. “Here. Let me help,” He reached out a hand to grab one of the objects on the sidewalk. As he lifted it, they both realized that the object he was handing her was a tampon. Her salmon blush turned into a deeper crimson, comparable to the woman in the white coat’s lipgloss.

“Thanks.” The words tripped off of her naked lips and she clumsily stuffed the tampon deep into her purse.

The woman in the white coat bent down carefully, so to not dirty her designer clothes. “I am so sorry,” her voice had a tin-like quality and she spoke through her nose, “I can be so clumsy, sometimes.” She touched perfectly manicured fingers to her sternum in a shameful attempt to draw his eyes to her perky breasts. She tilted her head to the side and her dark brown hair fell in the girl in the denim skirt’s face. She grimaced and spit out the hairsprayed tendrils that were still dangling like a curtain in front of her. The woman in the white coat tossed a tube of chapstick carelessly behind her with her right hand and offered the man her left. “I’m Shayla. I saw you across the street.” She winked a brown eye, clumps of mascara flaking off in the process.

Indifferently he took her hand and helped Shayla stand. “Luke.” Once she was back on her feet, he used her hand to guide her out of the way. Then, he extended that same hand to the girl in the denim skirt. “I’m Luke,” he said once more.

With wide eyes, she stared into his just a moment too long. Swallowing, the lump in her throat grew wider and she clenched her jaw in an attempt to make it go away. The one lone ring she was wearing slid on her slender finger to the knuckle as she reached out her hand and placed it in his. “I’m Annie.” She stumbled to her feet, their eyes locked on one another.

Shayla stood with her arms dangling at her side, her Coach bag loosely hanging by her ankle. The gaping hole her mouth created could have fit an entire colony of ants. She quickly snapped it shut creating one soft “click” sound when her top row of teeth hit the bottom row. Her eyelids narrowed creating small lines that if she had been conscious of would have been botoxed immediately. Although she didn’t necessarily like Luke, she still had to have him. With fire in her chocolate brown eyes, she made a surreptitious vow that this handsome man had not seen the last of her.

Luke reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and when he pulled it back out there was a small business card pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He smiled that wide toothy grin of his again and handed the card to Annie. “Be sure to put this to good use.”??

It was Annie’s jaw to drop this time. He was giving her his number. Her, not Prada girl. She secretly wondered what his true objective was. Maybe he had a younger, uglier brother he was trying to set up. She clutched the card in both hands like a treasure she had found, the way a small child would have clutched a piece of candy or a teddy bear, and looked down to read it.

Luke Lawson?
Lawson-Dekker Group?
New York, NY Architect Engineering Firm?
(212) 347-9877?

She wet her lips with her tongue. Not seductively as Shayla had done, but more like a nervous tick. “Alright, Mr. Lawson. I will give you a call.” She spoke professionally, since his intentions were still unclear to her. She couldn’t shake the thought that he was giving her this card to offer her an internship, or something.??

Luke couldn’t suppress a small chuckle when she used his last name. “Please,” he inhaled and then spoke through the air he let out, “call me Luke.”??

Both Luke and Annie heard a rustling, and when they looked back over at Shayla, she was swifly walking away from them with an unusual urgency in her step. Annie, who had glanced to her left milliseconds before Luke did, caught Shayla looking over her shoulder at them. Annie saw something in her face—–no, in her eyes; something she had seen many times before in women like Shayla: jealousy. Jealousy and vengeance. The only difference was that these glances had never before been directed toward her. It was like a lightening bolt surging from Shayla’s retinas, and Annie felt the repercussions. A chill down her spine as if someone had run a fingernail across each vertebrae.??

What Luke and Annie didn’t realize amidst staring into each other’s eyes was that as he pulled his hand out of his pocket, fingers grazing the inner lining of his coat, he accidentally pulled out a second business card that floated slowly to the ground like a feather, landing directly in front of Shayla’s patent leather pumps.? The malevolent arch of Shayla’s eyebrow crept back onto her face and she gingerly slid her shoe over top of the business card that had fallen. Glancing first at the couple talking, she pulled out her lip gloss and “accidentally” dropped it to the ground. It landed with a soft tap that made her freeze for a split second, nervously. Neither Luke nor Annie noticed, just as she had hoped. Once bent over, she slid her shoe back to the left and picked up both her tube of overpriced lip gloss and Luke’s business card, and slipped them both into her purse with one graceful movement. With a chip on her shoulder and a sneer on her face, she pivoted and walked quickly in the opposite direction, heels clicking against the sidewalk. Stealing one last glimpse of the happy couple over her right shoulder, her lips curled into a smile that could have frightened even our most horrific fairy tale villains.

2 Responses to “An Oldie…but a Goodie”

  1. Ello Says:

    Interesting story. I’m definitely intrigued. One comment though is that you do alot of head hopping back and forth between the three characters and it does get confusing. You might want to consider sticking to one POV at a time and if you have to switch, make it very clear that you have switched and then stay with the new POV.

  2. Jerseygirl89 Says:

    Cool story. I liked all the details.

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