All the Wrong Reasons

2.

Adrienne was rushing through a deadline Monday evening.  Jada, her boss was on her back.  She was making an article about a newly-opened restaurant on Fifth Avenue.  The food was not so great, and the price was not so cheap.  The service was a bit unorganized.  She ordered for piñacolada, and twice she was given margarita. 

She doesn’t want to be known around the block as the bitch who could shut down a decent restaurant, but she doesn’t want to compromise her professional point of view as well.

She couldn’t concentrate on her work.  The music from her neighbor’s house was far too loud, and the fact that he was on the balcony, playing poker with his friends, and she could hear him laugh makes it even harder for her.

She sighed, and went out to the balcony and lighted a stick of slim lights.  She noticed that they fell silent.  She felt self-conscious. 

Deep breaths.  Deep breaths.  She needed to take deep breaths.  She’s a confident woman, and she has a boyfriend.  Just because she suspects that Manhattan’s rakes are surveying her long legs and her figure is not a reason for her knees to turn to jelly.

She is in dire need of a cigarette to clear her mind and she doesn’t want to smoke inside her apartment.

Her mobile phone rang. 

Thank God!  She is also in dire need of a distraction right now.

“Hi honey, how are you?”  It’s Troy.

“I’m grood…”  She replied, unable to decide whether to say ‘good’ or ‘great’.

“What?”

Damn it!

 

“I’m good.  I said I’m good.  How about you?  How are you?”

“Not too bad.  I was out with Kim last night.  She’s my designated tutor now.”  He chuckled.

“She’ll be happy to help you.  Our mom likes you.”

“And I’m a lucky guy, aren’t I?”

“Hmmm…” 

Troy went on about his study date with her sister and she couldn’t quite concentrate on what he is saying.  She’s hearing medical terms, and she doesn't need to know them.  She’s got too much on her head… the awful food, the restaurant whose existence she is about to end in a few hours, and damn!  She can’t seem to get a dark-haired devil out her mind.

She groaned.

“What?”  Troy asked.  Apparently, he didn’t think that his monologue on chlamydia is not groan-worthy.  “What are you doing?  Who are you with?”