I am overwhelmed by the amazing response I've gotten from all of you! From reviews, to author/story alerts and even fave story adds. Pressure is on… yikes.
I don't own, I just play.
Chapter 1: Someday
August 31st 2009
I was turning 30 and my life was beige. I live in a studio apartment that I can barely afford in Brooklyn. I have long-ish, wavy-ish, brown-ish hair. Plain brown eyes, pale skin, and a body that I like well enough. I'm smart enough to not sound stupid and have a boring-ass job at Urban Express as a dispatcher. At least the delivery morons are fun - dumb, wacko, horny, maybe more than slightly off their rockers, but fun. I would leave my apartment at 7:30am, have lunch at noon, and was home by 6:00pm Monday through Friday.
I lived a boring life to support my real passion, jewelry. I'm a jewelry designer. Most of my stuff is inspired by my childhood in Santa Fe. It's one of the most magical places in the world - the colors, the textures, the culture; everything was an inspiration for me there. I haven't been back in years though, it's too expensive. I have vivid memories though. Sunsets, the smell of burning sage, hell even flash floods.
My step-mother, Sue, is my supplier and that sounds way more interesting than it really is. She sends me silver beads, chunks of turquoise and any other stones or material she thinks I might like. So far, I've only sold my stuff on Etsy, but one day… I actually have no idea what will happen one day, but I keep hoping "it" will happen.
My only friend-in-the-flesh is Jake. He's one of the delivery guys I work with. He's damn near seven foot tall, a warm caramel color, all long lean muscles, long shiny black hair, dark brown eyes, and some mixed heritage of Mexican, Native American, and French. He's stunning, he's single, he's gayer than a Judy Garland Marathon. Not that anyone knows that but me, of course. Bike messenger-ing is a sport in this city and athletes don't come out of the closet until they retire.
Most of the guys at the dispatch office thought we were a thing. That was fine by me; kept their grimy paws off of me and their nasty little comments away from Jake. Jake and my measly family in Santa Fe were the only family I had. Friends were few and far between. The only other person I considered a friend was Rosalie, she was my non-in-the-flesh-friend; in other words, we had never met. She makes these amazing handbags and accessories out of scraps of suede and leather – very sexy, very rock and roll. We commented on each other's Etsy shops one day and from there a relationship bloomed. We've talked, we texted, we've skyped, we'd never met up for ice cream, but we would someday.
Someday seems to be a theme for me. Someday I'd get on the pages of Vogue, someday I'd meet up with Rosie, someday I'd find a guy, someday I'd have the funds to go back home. Someday I'd be the cool awesome kick-ass person I knew I was buried deep inside.
"Bella, when are you going to leave the giant? How does that even work huh? He's like three times bigger than you. It would be real easy with me, caramelo… we'd fit together so good."
"Ya, I could carry you around in my purse, real convenient huh?"
"Why you gotta be a bitch, huh?"
"Because that's what dogs deserve, Mario. Now be a good puppy and take this to the Time Warner Building."
I felt a large, warm hand on my shoulder.
"No Jake, Mario here was just being schooled on proper dog pound etiquette, weren't you, Mario?"
"Oh, so you got jokes now, huh?"
Jake moved my bra and tank strap off my shoulder, bent over, and kissed it lightly. I actually got shivers.
"I think," Jake said, while he put my straps back in place, "you need to leave. And just remember that if you call her a bitch again, I'll neuter you."
We watched as Mario, proverbial tail between his legs, left the dispatch office. When we knew we were alone, we started laughing.
"Shit, Jake, that was priceless!"
"I know, how fucking smooth was I?"
"Like buttah, Barbara, like buttah."
"Hey, there's a pick up near Chinatown by the court house, can you get me…"
"…Dan Dan Noodles at Big Wong's?"
"The day you decide you're straight you let me know, ok? I can make my own engagement ring and everything."
"Sweetness, the day I decide I'm straight is the day you take Mario up on his offer."
I sighed loudly. That was my life. Stuck between a gay man and a horn-dog who thought he was Casanova.
"Get out of here and don't forget the hot sauce!"
"Have I ever?"
"No of course not, Mary Poppins."
"Ciao," he pecked me on the cheek.
I watched his perfectly sculpted ass walk out the back door – so unfair. I let my head drop to the desk and wallow in self pity. My phone started ringing Warrant's "Cherry Pie." It was Rosie. She reminded me of the video chick, Jani Lane - all blonde, big boobs, red lips, and leather. Jake's ring tone, not surprisingly, was Right Said Fred's "I'm Too Sexy."
"Bella Swan, waste of feminine space."
"Don't be such a drama queen."
"Were you calling me for a reason or just to make me feel worse?"
"The hot butcher guy?"
I sat up straight.
"I need deets. What happened?"
Rosie lived right around the corner from one of the last remaining butchers and meat packing plants in the meat packing district downtown. Most of the plants moved to Jersey when the real estate got too pricey no thanks to Diane Von Furstenberg and a slew of trendy eateries. McCarty's Fine Meats was still standing though.
Since Rosie actually cares about her health, she runs every morning by the river. One lucky morning she ran into, like literally ran into, Emmett. They way she describes him is big. Oh and dimples. Oh and wearing a stained white butcher's apron and coat. Big, dimples, and unexplainable stains - the picture of Emmett was a little twisted. They introduced themselves to each other and had been playing this seriously adorable school yard flirting game for weeks.
"He finally asked me out!"
We squealed as girls are won't to do about cute boys and she gave me the details. She saw him as she was running toward the river, as per usual. But that day some dick was getting a little too fresh with the cat calling across the street. Without pause, Emmett crossed the street, punched the guy straight in the nose, said something manly that she couldn't hear, and crossed the street again.
Overcome with feminine hormones at the butch display before her, Rosie grabbed Emmett by the bloody apron, pulled him toward her and planted a big old sloppy kiss on him. Apparently after they caught their breaths, Emmett uttered one word: "Dinner?" Rosie nodded, told him to pick her up at seven in front her building on Saturday and then went on her run.
"I need you here and I need jewelry."
"Here as in your place? As in face-to-face?"
We did some more squealing before we both calmed down and made plans. Not long after we hung up, Jake dropped off my noodles… extra hot sauce. It was then that I realized that one of my "somedays" was about to become a reality. I was actually going to meet up with Rosalie. I just had to figure out what kind of ice cream to bring.
Next chapter is written, just getting a final editing. If you've read my first story "Bliss," then you know I'm particularly partial to gay Jakes. Anywhoo, any thoughts? I know it was a short chapter… more on ice cream and Rosie in the next one.