AN: First things first: the characters - S. Meyer, the plot - mine. I'm just playin' here so don't sue, please.
Secondly - this is my first fanfic after month of reading others. I welcome comments, but please be gentle. This is un-betaed and I'm open to offers.
Music for the chapter: Lenny Kravitz - Destiny
The city was full awake now as I looked through the window of the yellow cab. People making their way to work, trotting lost in their own world, not making eye contact with passersby's, ear buds in their ears, cells glued to their hands; a mass of different shades of greys in their sharp suits - faceless, nameless. The cab stops at a red light and I pull out my camera to take a few snaps. I'm amazed it still surprises me after all these years, the contrast between New York and the places I'm returning from. Not that New York is free of contrasts in itself, or that Nairobi, Bangkok or Caracas is any kind of mellow, quite the contrary. Still the vibe of the cities is so different.
I hear a chuckle form the cabbie "Tourist? Taking pictures already? I could show you some nicer places."
"No need, I live here."
"Then what with the pics? So boring…"
"My thoughts exactly" I reply. Seeing his puzzled face in the rearview mirror I ad by way of explanation "I'm a photographer, I guess I can't help it" and shrug. He nods in understanding. We continue in silence, he seemed to sense my reflective mood for which I am thankful.
I made my way to the end of the corridor and pulled my keys out of my pocket to unlock the doors on autopilot. Once inside my apartment I threw my backpack in the foyer. I didn't have the heart to unpack it now, it could wait. I made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge only to find it empty. Well, at least I won't need to deal with any sleazy campers on the weeks old food. It happened before and since then Alice makes it a habit to clean my kitchen of anything that could get rotten or bugs in it when I'm out of the country for a few weeks if I don't get to do it myself before leaving. She also stocks it back, but I didn't get the let her know I'm coming back this time. She's had a lot on her mind lately with the magazine and whatnot so I didn't want to impose. I'm a grown man for God's sake; though she'll most likely want to rip my head off my shoulders for not letting her welcome me 'the right way' and gang up on me for that with Esme too. I make my way to the coffee maker and open the cabinet above it – not a grain of coffee in sight. No coffee for me , well… at least there's water in the tap. You've been back for less than two hours and you want a double espresso and a king's breakfast served already, delicate ass much, Masen? Enjoy the hot water in the shower.
I pour myself a glass of water, down it in few gulps and then stretch my sore muscles with a pop of few joints. The flight had been hell, nearly 22 hours in an economy class from Durban, my legs cramped in the small space. But I couldn't afford to take the next flight just so I could buy a first class ticket. I'd been behind schedule as it was; I'd missed my flight two days ago because the car I'd been using with my guide broke down on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. It took a tree hour walk in the afternoon heat with a 10 kilo backpack on my back to get to the nearest village, a night in a hut thanks to the chiefs' hospitality and an 8 hour bumpy ride to get to the airport all dirty and sweaty. I was honestly surprised they even let me inside the international terminal. Fortunately I managed to get a shower in and change my clothes before my flight. Thank God for small mercies! I was out like a light for the most part of the flight, crying children and chatterbox old ladies or not, I could've slept through a tornado at that point. Now, about that shower…
The hot water felt heavenly on my skin, relaxing the knots in my muscles. I couldn't enjoy it too much though, because just as I had been about to step into the stall I heard a phone ringing. Damn, I've forgotten to turn my cell back on and check for the messages on the landline. I let it go to voicemail and heard my bitch-of-an-editor for the album through the cracked door:
"Eddie, why the hell aren't you answering you cell? Get back to me as soon as you're in. Some of these stories are just too dark. You need to lighten this up. We could talk this through over dinner." Say what? Too dark my ass! I was open to discussion about which reportages and photo stories end up in the album but try as I might this woman just grated on my nerves. Dinner? Hell no! I was beginning to think this was all a bad idea. I needed to get Editor Jessica Stanley off my back. It was going to be me or her, I shit you not.
As tired as I was I decided it would be best not to go to sleep with the jet lag and all. There was too much to do anyway, I should've been home on Monday.
I should get my ass in gear if I want to grab any food and coffee on the way. I showered and shaved in record time. I pressed for the messages listening to them while dressing. There were a couple from my boss and a few from my family asking to let them know when I get back, my curator of the exhibition called to let me know thing are going ok with the showing and six messages form Jessica, all similar to the one I've just heard. I called my boss to say I'm back and going to stop by the office, I also called Mrs. Cope, Stanley's boss telling her I need to talk about my editor and settling for a lunch meeting. I made a mental note o text Alice, Jasper and Emmet when I get a spare minute and call Aunt Esme in the evening, then rummaged through my backpack to find everything I'd need for the day. I run through the list in my head: memory cards, flash drives and notebooks with my pictures, articles and notes from the journey - check; invoices, checks and tickets to clear my expenses with the financial office - check; my wallet and camera (because I never leave home without it) – double check. I threw everything into my messenger bag. Ok, good to go.
###
I decided to take the subway deeming myself not fit to drive in a caffeine deprived state through the NY city traffic. I could also text Ali and Em and grab s coup coffee and a hot dog from the stand outside my office building.
"Long time no see, Edward!" I heard a greeting as I entered the platform of my subway station. Sam was sitting in his usual place, playing What a Wonderful World on his sax.
"Hey King!" Sam was a sixty-some years old homeless I befriended a couple of years ago. We bonded over music; he played guitar and sax which caught my attention. We talked some and as I gained his trust I'd grab his guitar and join in for an improvised jam session from time to time for the fun of it. The friendship resulted in him inviting me to his place and introducing to the community of the homeless living in the abandoned subway corridors. It was a creepy and dangerous place and to be honest I was scared shitless the first few times he'd take me. I wouldn't leave Sam's sight for a minute and my martial arts passion became useful more than once, but then I got to know people, the right people I may add, influential in the community who offered me their friendship and protection, and was accepted by some or at least tolerated and respected by others. The reportage which was a result of that earned me a Pulitzer at the age of 27 and a good position in the business. I was immensely grateful to Sam and the others and always tried to get in at least a few words with them if we'd meet.
"So, South Africa, huh?"
"Yeah, you've read it?" I asked a bit sheepishly. His opinion mattered to me as much as my family's.
"Sure did, kid! I always follow your work!" he replied with a mock offended grimace. "Zimbabwe took some balls, but that story about AIDS orphans was some tear jerker. Good work, kid."
"Thanks King."
"You look like hell; you should take care of yourself more."
"Well I feel like I've been hit by a boulder. I arrived this morning actually and have to run to the office now."
"Always running, these youngsters" Sam shook his head.
"Well I plan on taking a few days to rest a bit, meet my family, join you for a jam session maybe? I'll drop by with some pics after I sort through them."
"I'm looking forward to it, kid. Looking forward to it" he smiled.
"Have a good day Sam!" I yelled over my back stepping onto the train.
The ride was short and uneventful. I managed to text Jazz.
Beer, John's Corner, 8 pm. Pixie will have ur ass was his eloquent reply. No shit, tell me something I don't know. For a short girl and a fairy like appearance Alice Brandon was a force to be reckoned with, with a momma bear streak. I've been on the receiving end of her wrath more than I can count since she and I have been friends from Chicago sandbox. I take full credit for introducing her to her current boyfriend (or rather love of her live and soul mate) and my best friend of fifteen years, that is since I came to live in NY, Jasper two weeks into college after discovering she came to UNY to study design. They clicked almost instantaneously and had been together for nearly 10 years. She now works for one of the most renowned fashion magazine in the US, he is a psychologist with a private practice and since they both come from money they live in a town house on the Upper East Side.
Got back this morning. I'm beat & on the way to work, not today. – I typed back and realized it was time to get off already.
Friday then, we're going out and no butts! I have ur back with Ali – my phone buzzed back.
Friday is my showing. Have invites 4 u all. JC on Sat – Em's b-day? I owe u. – once out of the stationI tried to continue texting and navigate the crowd simultaneously towards my favorite hot dog stand. Big mistake. The phone buzzed again and just as I was about to pull what was probably Jasper's next reply I felt someone bump into my left side and heard a surprised-turned-mad "Aaaaaahh!!!" My hands shot up reflexively to steady whoever I just walked into. As I lifted my head I saw the most entrancing pair of chocolate eyes I've ever seen in my life. I could get lost in those pools. My heart skipped a beat, but I was soon pulled out of my trance by the girl's voice:
"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole!" she cried.
"I… I'm sorry…" I stuttered still as much surprised as she was.
"Well sorry doesn't cut it!" she was glaring daggers at me. "God, could this day get any worse?!" she looked down and I followed her gaze. She had coffee spilt on her jacket.
Nice going, dick! I felt even guiltier.
"Can I do something for you? I can cov…" I wanted to offer to cover the dry washing for her or a new jacket even but she cut me off.
"You've done enough! Will you let me go now?!" I didn't realize that I was still holding her right arm with my left hand and supporting her left side with my right hand holding my cellphone until she pointed it out. The fire in her eyes could turn a lesser man into a salt statue.
"I'm sorry" I managed again and let her go. How original Masen. Before I could blink again she turned on her heal and left me staring at the wave of her chestnut hair, soft and shiny in the sun reaching her middle back and her ass clad in grey dress pants, delicious ass. Douche.
I don't know how long I've been standing there. What felt like hours were most likely merely a few seconds. I was brought from my Chocolate-Eyes induced stupor thanks to none other than the dear pixie herself.
"What are you doing here, Edward, and why I don't know anything about you coming home?" I looked down again – deja-vu? – to see 4 feet 9 silhouette of Alice looking up at me expectantly with raised eyebrows and arms on her hips. I sighed and looked from her to the phone in my hand. The message read: Ok. Fri – showing (THX) Sat – John's Corner. Buy me a beer and we're cool :) Yeah, never mind. I sighed again and begun the explanation again. I did not have the energy for this right now. Gods must've been on my side this time because she was pleased with only a short story and set off on her way but not without threatening me within the inch of my life if I didn't show up on Saturday for Em's birthday. The mischievous glint in her eyes had me worried for a minute but I didn't have the time to dwell on it as my stomach started growling in demand of nutrition. The waft from the stand reached my nostrils and I got myself the best fucking hot dog in this part of Manhattan. Oh yeah, home sweet home! A triple espresso from the next stand and I was feeling like a newborn.
###
On my way to the editorial office I decided to stop by the financial office to drop off the documents and get it over with.
"Hi Eddie!" I was greeted by Laureen's screeching voice. I cringed at the sound her use of my hated nickname. No-one calls me that. Period. Well, except for Stanley. The first time I heard her using my hated nickname too I thought to myslef she and Laureen would be good friends. Turns out they are. Go figure. "What a nice tan you've got." She batted her eyelashes with a grimace which was supposed to be a sexy smile in her opinion. Tan? Really?
"Laureen" I acknowledged her with a neutral mask trying not to encourage her. She somehow managed to delude herself into thinking I might take her on a date. I wouldn't touch her with a fifty feet pole if we were the last people on Earth. How did she manage to get this job and keep it was beyond me.
"What can I do for you, sweetie?" she leaned forward on her desk squeezing her boobs in a much too low neckline top as it was, flashing me way too much for my taste. Well, this got a what-the-fuck? eyebrows rise form me.
"Just wanted to drop it off for Angela" I replied curtly wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here.
"She's not here today; called in sick or sometin'."
"Well, can you pass it to her?" I waved the manila folder in my hand.
"Sure thing Eddie. Anything for you." she screeched again. I nearly puked.
"Thanks" and with this I turned on my heels with a sigh of relief.
I didn't even have time to stop and chat with my coworkers, just waived and nodded his and hellos. I managed to grab a bottle of water from the machine before knocking on Banner's office door.
"Come in Edward!"
"Hi boss!" Does he have an X-ray sight or something? I'll have to ask him how he always knows who it is at his door one day. No hidden cameras. We've already looked.
"Thanks for coming in. You must be beat."
"Yeah" I mumbled wiping my face with my palms in a desperate attempt to wake up. This will take more caffeine afterall.
"This won't take long. There are some changes that are going to take place in the paper but this will be explained during the meeting after lunch." Oh joy. The talk about changes has been going on for months. All I wanted to know was how was this going to affect me? Call me an egotistical bastard, but I was not in the mood for long-ass meetings after dragging my ass through half of the hemisphere. Someone get me a summary, pretty please? "I know you are tired and have a lot on your mind so I'll just tell you that your contract remains the same. Anything else you can find on the Intranet tomorrow." Ok, now my theory is he's a mind reader. And I knew there was a reason I liked the guy. "And how was your journey?" I told him about the draft topical I wrote sometime into my flight. He told me to email it to him with a few photos and don't show my ass in the office until Monday. Yes sir! "Take some rest and good luck with the showing" he waved me off.
###
I barely managed to drag my ass through my doorstep. My feet felt as if made of lead. As soon as I opened the door my nostrils were hit by the most delicious smell of home-made lasagna, Esme's lasagna. "Follow the smell!" – my stomach growled at me. I made my way to the kitchen again and found a note on the breakfast nook:
Welcome home, honey!
Alice called. Lasagna is in the roaster, I hope it's still warm by the time you get back. Enjoy! I've made some grocery shopping too. Sleep well and call me tomorrow.
Aunt Esme.
I felt slightly embarrassed about the groceries, but immensely grateful for them as well as the lasagna. I could fall asleep standing but all in all it was a good day. Mrs. Cope turned out to be understanding; saying a good working relationship between the author and the editor is essential for the benefit of the book, so there was no need to pull out the me-or-Stanley card. The meeting in the gallery went well too. Eric was doing a great job as a curator. The prints were of best quality and ready to hang. We talked about the arrangement some more and set up a meeting for tomorrow to see if I wanted to make any last minute changes.
After finishing my meal and putting the dishes in the dish washer I turned towards my bedroom. I managed to take of my shoes and fell on the bed in my clothes. I was out before my head hit the pillow.
I'm not sure where this is going, but I had this idea and just wanted to get it out there.
So what do you think? Continue? Next chap would be Bella. R&R