May had been sitting on the balcony for the better part of an hour, alone with her first drink. She once again folded up her notebook and slipped the pen safely inside the wire binder. There hadn't been a single minute in that hour that she hadn't opened up the notebook and jotted down something. Even something so innocuous as a single word seemed important. She had trained her mind to drown out the music so she could hear the hustle and bustle of the people themselves.
The floor was full of revellers and dancers, and people just passing through. Singles seeking, couples courting and friends just having fun. There were two separate bars in the club, each had its own type of crowd.
Some people had gotten their drinks, gone to a table, chatted, then went back for another drink. Others had been propping up the bar since the moment she'd come in.
The ice in her drink had long since melted, but it was still kind of cool. She took solace in the bite from the whiskey and the sweetness and smokiness of the coke.
From the edges of her peripheral vision, she began to observe a woman coming up the spiral staircase. With her mind's eye, she knew instantly that the woman was not just looking at her, but staring at her. May pretended as if she were staring down at the table, but subtly glared out of the corners of her eyes till they began to hurt.
The woman made her way around the railings and slowly paraded towards her. She walked confidently, placing each foot perfectly in front of the other as if she were walking a tightrope.
When she got within almost touching distance, May looked up to meet the woman's smile.
"Hi," the woman said without hesitation.
May croaked a little before softly replying with her own, "hi."
She wasn't nervous, but she'd been sitting so long in her own silence that her throat had forgotten how to speak. Though her cough could have been misinterpreted as nervousness.
"I couldn't help but notice you sitting alone," the friendly woman said.
"I'm fine," May said with a genuine smile.
The woman sat down in the chair that was neither opposite May nor beside her, but rather somewhere in between.
"You're not the first person to have a warm drink that's not even half finished," the woman's voice was so gentle and nurturing.
"It's not warm yet," May touched the glass with her fingertips and brushed a gap through the condensation.
"But it's still not half finished yet," she reminded her.
"Other things on my mind," May told her.
The stranger was sensitive enough to empathy to know that May didn't need it. She wasn't a woman in trouble. The woman then began to stare at May's notebook, and she wasn't subtle about it either.
May made no move to hide it from the woman; provided she didn't try and pick it up.
"Some people never go anywhere without their purse," she tipped a nod to the woman's clutch. "I never leave the house without this."
The notebook was a one-off. It's thick cover was bound in denim material. Patterns were sown into it with brightly coloured thread, hearts and flowers and stars of all shapes and sizes. It was as if the design had been doodled by a small child.
It was simple. But pretty.
The notebook was thick with lined pages. Even in the dim light of the club, she could see the lines on the edges of the pages.
"Work?" The woman asked.
"Yes and no," May replied cutely.
The woman smiled. "Intriguing answer," she said with a wry smile before taking a small sip of her own drink. As the woman crossed her legs, her electric blue dress inched just a little above the knee.
"I'm a writer," May confessed.
"Wow. What kind of things do you write?" The woman then asked.
"I mostly write articles for magazines, online and printed. I do a few blogs too."
"Okay," she said. "I thought you were a novelist or something."
"Well..." May began, "I'm hoping to start turning my hand to that soon too," she said coyly.
"Oh," the woman's eyes then sprung open, "cool."
May nodded, unable to contain her own excitement. She pursed her lips like a love-struck teen.
"I'm Scarlett by the way," she then introduced.
"You're kidding," May jibed. She instantly regretted the way it had sounded and put her hand over her mouth.
Scarlett wasn't so easily flustered and she managed to settle May down with a calming glance.
"It's not a stage name. I'm not a stripper or anything," she said jokingly.
"I'm so sorry," May couldn't help but apologise. The look on her face showed that she was mortified.
But Scarlett continued to settle her down with another joke. "And to answer your next question, yes, I am a natural redhead. Although not this red," she then pointed out. Her hair was such a bright fluorescent red that it almost teetered into the orange part of the colour spectrum.
It was in total contrast to May's hair. Even in this dim light, it looked so dark that even if it wasn't black, it might as well be. Their hair was about the same length, down to just below the shoulder. May's dark hair was sleek and straight unlike the wild locks of Scarlett's hair that was the colour of the embers of a lit furnace.
With a tear of embarrassment running down either side of her face, she then confided with her own name.
