June laid in bed, mulling over Nana's words. "You'll have many loves in your life...but your soulmate should bring you peace."
"She's right." June thought, returning the picture to the nightstand and grabbing her phone. June scrolled through her contacts until she found her.
"Hey, Tala! Sorry for texting so late, just thinking about you." June could feel her heart in her throat.
"Many loves," she heard her grandmother's voice in her head again. June smiled to herself and pressed send, placing her phone on the dresser. She turned over and dozed off; this time, Tala met her in her dreams.
#
June awoke the following day with a throbbing headache, her phone ringing off the hook.
Nana's wine is not something to play with, June noted as she sat up in bed. Reaching for her phone, she remembered last night. June had texted Tala in a drunken stupor. Her stomach churned as she peaked at her text messages. Tim was blowing up her phone, per usual, but nothing from Tala. A tinge of disappointment crept into her thoughts as she scrolled through the rest of her notifications.
"Tim has no chill; what does he want." Rolling her eyes as she dialed him back.
"BIHHH, I've been calling you all morning. Where have you been," Tim hollered. "The day party starts in an hour, and I already reserved our section!" June had forgotten their boozy brunch-filled Saturday. "I overslept. I was up late talking to Nana; we'll be fine Tim, you're the only person in the H trying to be on time to a party," she giggled.
"Tuh! Don't blame Nana for your delay. Get dressed. I am on my way!" Tim hung up.
June scrolled back to her conversation with Tala. Her lone text was still unanswered. "Maybe she's not up yet," She reassured herself as she went to the closet for an outfit.
June waded through her dozens of outfits. One thing about June Moreau she was going to shut the city down when she got dressed up. Her tiny closet lined with beautiful clothing from the biggest names in fashion to local designers. She loved clothes, and she could style the likes of anyone. Except for Tim, she critiqued his outfit once, and he almost quit his job.
June pulled a couple of looks from her closet. A conservative ankle-length linen skirt in burnt orange with an almost sheer cream cropped blouse—next, a funky leopard print satin dress, and last, her favorite distressed denim jeans paired with an acid-washed Black Nirvana t-shirt.
Hmm, these are options, but where are my Tom Ford heels? Digging deeper into the closet, she spotted them, her Versace heels. June pulled them from the pile of shoes. She hadn't worn them since the gala. June plopped on the floor admiring the heels, a blood-red stain on the strap, clenching her eyes shut to hold back the tears.
#
"She's just in PR," Alex slurred, answering the man at their table. "Ya know, making sure celebrity side hoes don't break their NDAs." June blushed and went back to her salad.
"But this is my baby, she's going to be my wife someday, and she won't have to work some shit job." Alex finished taking a swig of champagne; That was it; Alex had finally defeated her. June wanted nothing to do with Alex, but she was stuck. First, he had utterly embarrassed her in front of Donatella, and now he was practically shouting across the table. It's his night, June. It's not your place to tell him how to enjoy it. He's just saying that stuff anyway to impress everyone; he knows this is my passion. Right?
"You ready to bounce, Bug?" Alex's voice invaded her thoughts.
Huh? She stared at Alex.
YOU ARE READING
The Woman in Traffic
General Fiction*Ongoing* June Moreau is an up-and-coming publicist navigating her new normal after losing her college sweetheart, Alex. June's entire perception of love and attraction turned upside down on her daily commute to work, after meeting her. Her confiden...
