Chapter Two
Chain Events
"So, I hear you're going to open our restaurant," Angel said, surveying Collins' newly bought apartment in Santa Fe.
"Yeah, but it won't be the same. Not with you gone," Collins muttered, not looking up at Angel.
"I'm here now, aren't I?" She asked, coming to sit next to him on the bed.
"It's not the same."
That did it. "Hey, look at me. I don't take no, I told you that when we first met and I'm not going to let you forget it any time soon. Now get your lazy ass up and do something. Don't turn into Roger," Angel ordered.
"I'm not going to turn into Roger... Were you always this bossy?" He asked, looking at Angel skeptically.
"Maybe not always. But my bossiness saved Mimi's life, remember."
"Yeah, I remember," Collins mumbled.
"Well the you should listen because I might just save your life as well."
That's how it all started, that one little dream began a long chain of events that would eventually make Collins wish that Mark had been there to film it all.
Seeing Angel again had affected Collins in a way that was quite hard to explain, it had made him happy, sad, and unbearably confused all at the same time. Which, in turn, made him even more confused. Which in turn sent him looking for a bar. Which, in turn, caused event number two, a collision with one of the regulars at said bar he was looking for.
"Ow!" Collins was lost his nonexistent balance and fell over after crashing into someone and sending the contents of their bag flying.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," a female voice said, helping him up.
"It's fine, I'm fine," he said, still a little disoriented and still in need of a drink.
"I'm still sorry," the girl said. Collins bent to help her pick up her scattered papers, makeup, and the other random things that reside in girls' bags... such as, in this case a pill bottle with an all too familiar prescription on it. Event number three.
"Here you go."
"Oh, thanks I..." She stopped, he hadn't handed her the bottle, he was just staring at it... like it meant something, something important. She murmured a soft, "Hey," before going on. "If you feel bad for me, don't, I get enough sympathy from my parents."
"What?... Oh, no it's not that, it's just, I came here to escape New York City, but I think it followed me." Collins said, giving her the pill bottle and shaking his head.
"You're from New York City?"
"Yeah."
"So am I." she was getting enthusiastic now.
"What part?" Collins' mood hadn't changed.
"Upper West side."
"East Village."
"How long have you lived here?" she asked
"Since Monday."
"Oh... Well... I'm Sophia by the way," she said, extending her hand.
"Tom Collins," he shook her hand quickly, then dropped it again. Event number four.
"Do you want to get a drink?" Sophia asked, pointing to the bar across the street.
"What? Why?"
"Whoa, don't get all defensive. I'm not asking you out, you're not my type."
"And you're not mine."
"What is your type?" Sophia inquired.
Collins immediately thought of Angel and last nights dream, it had lasted no more than ten minutes and it felt like she was back, almost like she never left. Angel had told him not to turn into Roger, and Collins guessed that the first step in that was talking with friends, and because his apartment had no phone he couldn't very well talk to his friends in New York, and he had a feeling that this Sophia girl had an interesting story to tell. What the hell. "My type?... Long story."
"How long?" Sophia asked. Her tone was challenging and playful at the same time, but it held an undercurrent of genuine interest that one wouldn't hear very often from someone they just met.
"A little over a year."
Sophia looked at her watch. "Well, I don't have a very busy schedule, I think I've got time. My offer of a drink still stands." She told him, once again pointing out that the bar was just across the street.
"Fine. You get to hear my story on one condition."
"And that would be?"
"I get to hear yours." Event number five.