I'm trying something different with this one. I've never managed to do angst, but I'm hoping that this story part of the way there.
I should be working on my other stories that need working on, not to mention the essay that was due last week and the two presentations that are due on Thursday, but this was sitting there just needing a little work and I though, why not?
Its after midnight when she finally blows out the candles.
They're almost stumps now anyway. Another hour or so and they would be nothing but odd shapes of melted wax on the table top and she would have had to have spend ages carefully scraping them off as to not damage to wood or varnish.
She picks up the phone again, but part of her is afraid to hear his voice mail again while another part is afraid that he'll actually pick up this time and she'll have to make up some excuse for calling, and she puts it back in the cradle.
Heading into the kitchen, she finally takes the dinner she had prepared off the hob and dumps it straight in the bin. Running the tap, she fills the sink with warm water and begins to wash the pots and pans. She would have left them, but she fears that the sight of them waiting to be done, will remind her of this failed night and while she's handling it quite well at the moment, she's not too sure she'll be doing that well later on.
After finishing the dishes she clears the table. The fancy diner set she was given by her sister in law when she moved goes back in the box unused and the wine glasses go back on the top shelf. The ice bucket she'd borrowed from the Italian couple down the hall is emptied and put by the front door, ready to be taken back the next morning. The cutlery goes back in the drawer.
The apartment is dark when she finally sits down on the couch, the eradication of the night almost complete.
She starts with her earrings. They had been her grandmothers. A first year anniversary present from her grandfather, a present he had saved up for months to afford. The small diamonds had been her greatest treasure, something she had passed on to her only granddaughter just a few weeks before her death.
They where laid carefully on the table in front of her and where shortly followed by her necklace. She had found it whilst browsing through charity shops on a recent day trip out of the great New York area, and had bought it without so much as a second thought. The simple yet enticing pattern of the melted silver had instantly drawn her, and as she dropped it carefully on the table, she ran her fingers over the pattern.
She was removing her shoes when her mobile phone beeped.
Her hand shook slightly as she picked it up, and her heart both jumped and sank when she saw who it was from. It wasn't him. Not that she was really expecting it to be. If he wasn't going to show, she would have had a call hours ago. No, he had forgotten. There was no other possible excuse.
Hey!
U awake? Up for sum drinks?
1 eager Det and two desperate CSI's waiting 4 ur reply
Don't leave us hanging Monroe!
How was she supposed to say no to that?
The jewellery didn't go back on, but back in its box, and she selected something different to wear instead. A plain silver necklace and matching earrings, they would do the trick.
Standing in front of the mirror in her room, trying to avoid looking at the bed and brand new silk covers she had picked up on sale last month and had just been dying for an excuse to try out, looking herself over from head to toe, she tried to decide if she should change or not.
The little black number she had on at the moment, she had never imagined leaving the house in. It was strictly an apartment dress. Lower cut at the chest, and at the hem, than she usually wore, she took a deep breath and left at as it was. She felt good in this dress, it made her feel good and she wasn't giving that up.
Trying to put her shoes back on with one hand while the other moved with amazing speed and dexterity to reply to the message she had received with,
Where?
She had finished with her shoes and was just pulling on her coat when the name of the bar they where currently at, flashed up on the screen. Making sure that she had her purse, phone and keys, she stepped out of her apartment and a forgotten night in.
Hailing a taxi wasn't a problem. They where one of the many things in New York that seemed to double in number after dark, and she made it to the bar within twenty minutes.
Standing at the front door, she took a deep breath and wondered whether she should have come. And whether she should have come dressed as she was. The bouncer, for it was one of those fairly trendy bars that decided it needed security on the door to keep the riff raff out, gave her the once over as he held the door open for her.
The noise, smell and heat all hit her at the same time, and she felt herself instantly warming to the place. It was busy, but not crowded and although there was music playing, she could still hear the individual conversations of the different groups as she passed them.
Don, Stella and Hawkes weren't difficult to spot. They had a booth over the other side of the dance hall, sitting close together, laughing at something or other. Their gazes often upon one another rather the place as a whole, or anyone else.
Instead of heading across to them first, she decides on getting a drink. Or two.
The area round the bar wasn't packed, but it still took her a couple of minutes to get service. It didn't bother her too much. She happy enough to sit for a while and gather her thoughts. She'd need to work out something to say if they asked where Danny was. They would know he wasn't due to be on tonight.
Feeling the heat of someone's gaze upon him, Hawkes looked up and straight at her. She forced a smile and waved at him, indicating see was just waiting on a drink before coming over to them.
One of the bar tenders finally notices she was sitting there without a drink in her hand. He came sauntering over with a smile and she allowed herself to feel good for a moment, as the guy, younger than her by a few years, looked over the parts of her he could see.
"Can I help you?" he asks with a smile, and she places her drink order. He rises an eyebrow at the fact she's making it a double but doesn't comment further.
"ID please," the bar tender asks with a mischievous look and she pulls out her driving licence with a sigh.
"You getting ID'd Monroe?" Flack says, coming up behind her, leaning one arm against the bar and another round her shoulders.
"I take it as a compliment." She smirks at him. Putting on her game face and making it stick.
The bar tender holds it up to the dim light, looks at her and smiles. Winking at her. "Happy Birthday," he says, pouring the drinks she asked for after sliding the well worn drivers license back to her across the bar top.
"Its your birthday?" Flacks leaning casually against the bar now, taking the time to have a look around and be observant. He's looking at her now though, getting right up close.
"Yeah," she says, looking away and out to the dance floor.
"Why didn't you say?"
"Didn't want to make a big deal out of it." She said, when she really meant, I Didn't want people to know he's forgotten.
