Last week Ike wrote and posted chapter one of our blog novella The Court Chronicles. The following is chapter two. To read his chapter first click here. Comments are always welcomed.
Of course I get his voice mail, “Jay, you unreliable motherfucker! I think I am lost. Oh shit, I almost hit that homeless man…sorry! OK, I am on the corner of… wait, I see LaCienega. I know where I am now. Geez, I am a wreck, sorry I didn’t mean to blow up. You might be a little freaked out that I am so emotionally unstable moments before I am suppose to meet your bestie. You’re a great friend, and you don’t deserve my verbal abuse. I’ll call you later to give you the total recap. Sorry for this long rambling message. Bye.”
Wow. Who was that demon that just possessed me and made me call Jay a motherfucker? I get easily frazzled when I am running late. I hate being late. Worse, I hate being lost, and since moving to this town, both have been the persistent theme of my everyday life. Phoenix is flat and rests on a predictable grid system. LA, on the other hand, is a labyrinth of roads and freeways. I don’t think I’ll ever get use to this. –Sigh- I need to stay positive. If you go into this date with this Debbie-Downer attitude he’ll run for the hills.
I definitely want to make a good impression. This guy seemed nice. Jay is the first genuine person I met since moving here, so when he suggested a friend I might be interested in I didn’t hesitate to accept a date. I am confident that Jay would only surround himself with good people but I can’t help but be nervous. I need to relax. My hands are crazy sweaty. Let me turn up the AC and rest my hands on the vents. So now I’ll have an icicle to offer when I shake his hand? Bad idea. Oh I know! I’ll put tissues in the pockets of my coat and I’ll dry my hands in my pockets before I shake his hand. Genius. What if he goes for a hug? Then I might get my hands stuck in my coat, which will create an awkward hug with my hands down and his arms around my shoulders. Am I over analyzing right now? Yes you are Veronica—admitting it is the first step to recovery you fucking loon.
There is the restaurant, and one more parking spot in the front. Bu-ya! It is the small victories that make life worth living.
Let me check my face before I head in. My hair looks good. I hope he likes brunettes. I refuse to bleach my hair and become another blond in LA. My eye make up is on point. My long lashes have always been the envy of others. I might want to put on some more lip gloss. I have been biting my lip out of nervousness and most of the first coat rubbed off… and is on my teeth! Gross. Let me rub that off while I step out of the car.
Let me see, what do I know about this guy?--oops I forgot to lock my car door. OK, one, he is Jay’s best friend. They’ve know each other since elementary school, which is very endearing. Second, he has a very friendly and casual disposition on the phone. Finally, his name is Garret. Cute name. Veronica and Garret? Garret and Veronica? Does it flow together? Jesus, you want to subscribe to bridal magazines later today too? Relax. It is just a casual date. Open the door. Deep breath.
Oh this guy on his phone is cute …
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I like where it's going...where should I take it? Hmm...
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