Prelude:
The Box of Assorted Chocolates
:
There are reasons women never get what they want. Hey...hey don't give me that look. If anyone has the right to lecture you, it's
me
. Trust me when I say that its nature's way of protecting us from ourselves. (And yes, male audience, I'm sure you're loving this.) Nature is seeking to preserve us, the progenitors of humanity, even at the cost of a chocolate covered depression.
In the end, we're supposed to ended up with something better, safer, and less lethal than our misguided desires. There are a lot of things I wish I had gotten over. I'm taller than I want, curvier than I want. I was
naïve
. I thought I could rule the world because I'd made the "don't talk to me," look a higher art form, and a buttery smooth talker. And a pretty quick runner.
I survived complete calamity for 24 years. I survived my
college
loans. Best day of my life hands down. I got too confident. I think the I-told-you-so types will call it, "hubris." The universe saw I had tipped the balance, and rectified its mistake by allowing me to stumble into the ultimate boo boo. That's why I'm currently dressed in a red,
diamond
encrusted dress, in a place I haven't even heard of.
That's why I'm pretending, quite successfully, to be calm, letting this expensive and wickedly delicious wine breathe.
Hi, I'm Audrey Rose, and I'm sitting here, waiting to die.
Across from me sits a pair of dark eyes. They belong to a gorgeous, marble-made man who is ninja code honor bound to fulfill my final request. Then, I'm going to willingly go to my death. That reminds me.
Peeking up from my flute, I see that he's still staring at me. I don't think it was because he thought I might escape. I had already tried that. He wasn't uncomfortable. I severely doubted that any woman, or man for that matter, could make him uncomfortable. It was something much deeper, sinister. He was studying me, trying to pry apart my secrets before he destroyed them forever. He was taking me in, sucking out what he would remember about me. I took a long sip.
Right, well you must be confused. You're probably wondering, how a sweet girl like me ended up across from a killer. Well I'll tell you. It was all that damn Marco's fault.
Chapter One: Milk Chocolate
"Hey baby you tryin ta kill somebody this morning?"
A woman dressed in pants and a blazer spied the obnoxious hobo to her right and kept walking. I was early and she wanted to stab most of the sound around her. She wasn't a morning person. If a stray bird started to sing to her at 5 am outside her window, she wanted it to
die
. Still there was no reason to automatically get irritated. In fact it was vain. There was no need to assume he was talking to...
"Hey! ....
Milk chocolate
!" Oh damn it was her.
Audrey ran down into the mouth of the subway, swiping her metro card in one smooth motion as she slid though the turnstile. Seven am, February 1st, and her month was officially off to a rough start.
Audrey Rose was not what anyone could call a thrill seeker. She had gone to school, finished, and now worked as an editor at the What'd You Say news magazine. WYS was for the lovechild of NBC news and People Magazine. It had a borderline religious idolatry to the celebrity gossip, but their work contained facts and insider scoops other papers couldn't get.
The WYS prided themselves on reporting, "the truth." A celebrity could rest assured knowing they were being portrayed in their tRuth wholesome light, unless of course, they were really a bastard. Then the whole world would know. Audrey didn't know how the magazine profited, but someone was getting paid to pay her. She was an editor in the entertainment column, mostly writing about club scenes. WYS wasn't her first choice.
She had been politely refused from The New Yorker, Esquire, and The New York Post. SHe applied to WYS out of desperation. It might have been her last option, but it was the only option that called her back. They hired her on the same day of her interview.
The last question had been, "What do you like to do for fun?" She's answered truthfully. "Write."
She had learned later from her coworker Marco, that they had chosen her because a studious pretty girl was likely to get into the club quicker, but actually take notes and write the article.
"So I got the job...because I'm boring."
"Yup. Pretty much, girl."
Marco, her cubicle neighbor and steady friend of three years was a well-dressed bar of dark chocolate with a country twang. He was a head taller than her 5'7, tone with natural muscle, and a perfect gentlemen. Too bad he was gay.
His brown eyes sparkled when he gossiped and as a result his eyes were a constant firework show. His column the "What Not to Dos" detailed the awful moments people, celebrities and Everyday Joes, found themselves caught in. He had framed his favorite article, a picture of a man who had gotten his hand stuck in his ex-girlfriend's mail slot.
"The story pretty much makes itself at that point," he chuckled, straightening it proudly.
"What happened to reporting "the truth," Marco?"
He rolled his eyes. "Come on Audrey, don't be naïve."
Marco was a sadist if she ever knew one, which was why he was obsessed with people's lives, and
her
life.
To torture it.
Audrey typed furiously at her computer. She was finishing up an article about this club called "Lights Out," when a dark shadow covered her.
Well, that wasn't ironic.
Looking up she saw Marco grinning at her from over his cubicle wall.
"Hey, how you doing?"
She shrugged. "Fine, tired as always."
His lips flattened as he gave her a knowing nod.
"I feel you. You wanna talk about it?"
"Sure, you want to do lunch?"
"We
need
to."
Glancing at the clock, she saw he caught her at the right time. She needed to take her break; otherwise she would work through it...again.
"LaCienega! Audrey and I are going to get lunch!"
"Okay! I'm on my way!"
Audrey huffed. Marco laughed at. "Girl you two need to get along. She can help you."
"With what? Alternate forms of birth control?"
"Oh...that's cold."
"I don't need help," Audrey spat grabbing her purse and blazer.
"You're going to wear your work blazer to lunch?"
Marco's face was mortified.
Audrey's brow furrowed. "...is that wrong?"
LaCienega rounded the corner, inserting herself seamlessly into the conversation.
"I mean, it's cute and all but really girl? Its spring chica, you need to start showing some skin."
Seeing her tight pencil skirt and low cut red blouse, Audrey could see that at least she wasn't a hypocrite.
"Someone needs to tell her Lala." Marco shook his head as dramatically linked arms with them, escorting his ladies out the office. Lala laughed.
Audrey didn't think it was funny. As she looked at the giggling Lala, she thought that "Lala" was an appropriate nickname. She was sure that every time she spoke, LaCienega heard singing in her cavernous head.
Marco opened the office door for them and Lala giggled again, butchering a curtsey before strutting through.
She gave Marco a pointed look. "Please."
"Audrey, you need friends. The world is too cold to be an icy bitch."
Audrey sighed, shaking her shoulder-length black hair around her like a propeller.
"Sure. Every girl deserves a meddling gay and a sprightly hoe."
He laughed putting his arm around her.
"You really need to work on highlighting your redeemable qualities. No one would ever know you cried after watching
Home Alone
."
"It was sad! He had abusive parents and it was Christmas!"
Marco put a finger to his lips, indicating she should shush as Lala came in view, waving at the open elevator like she had discovered life.
Oh yeah, Marco was a sadist.
As they walked down the street, Lala's easy smile, Marco's flirty looks, and Audrey's perpetual scowl making them an awkward trio.
When they settled into the diner, Audrey had 45 minutes left. It was an attractive place with big homey booths and tons of appetizers.
She let the others order the food, and got an orange juice. As she sipped it slowly, it drastically improved her mood. Oh Orange Juice, the power of the sun compels you to make my world sunny.
"So, how was the Light's Out premiere?" Lala asked as she sipped on her coffee.
Why, why must you take it away?
"It was good," she responded, above her glass.
