tried to order her face not to blush but she could feel her cheeks disobeying as usual and she hated herself for looking so guilty when she had only asked an innocent question. “I didn’t mean that...”
“I need more space. The more space I have the more space I tend to need. I’m moving to Russian Hill. Been there yet?” She shook her head, her lips brushing against the mug she was holding close to her face. “Much quieter than here. I like peace and quiet, you see.”
“Is this not a quiet place?”
“Oh yes, it is. It’s really very quiet. It’s just me, I guess. I like real peace and quiet.”
“And space.”
“And space, yes. That’s about all I need. What about you? Have you considered moving out of San Francisco? You could go anywhere in the world.”
She shrugged. “I guess it’s best if I stay here, my publishing company and my editor being here and all that. I like it here...”
And Kaitlyn did... But she couldn’t tell him that.
His eyes were an interesting colour, grey-blue. He had a way of keeping his head slightly lowered while looking at her that made them shady, as if he was trying to hide his stare underneath his eyebrows, behind his long hair. He was weirdly handsome.
“You bought it, then.” He said out of the blue, nodding towards the handbag sitting by her feet. The top corner of the copy of today’s San Francisco Post she had bought that morning poked out of the open zip.
“Oh, this! Yes, I was intrigued.” She patted her bag the way one does with a faithful pet.
“And? Can you see how cartoonists don’t need to be fat and middle-aged now?”
She could. His cartoon strip was nothing like she had imagined. Elysa by Gospel . Beautifully drawn, moody, the overall feel of it closer to Japanese cartoons she remembered watching as a kid then what she had up to then associated with newspaper’s strips. But after only two editions of the Post she still couldn’t quite make out what it was all about.
“It’s different. I like it. I’m not really into cartoons so, sorry if I offended you the other day. I didn’t mean to.”
“God, no, you didn’t. No offence taken at all.”
“Good. Why the pen name?”
He shrugged. “I like it that way. I’m not after fame and recognition. I just want to do what I like. Besides, William sounds a bit too ordinary.”
Lightening flashed and thunder struck outside and Blaise stood up from his wooden box quickly, leaving his mug on the floor.
“Come here, I want to show you something.”
He held her wrist gently and guided her to one of the windows by the sink, where she left her mug and waited for something to happen, admiring the view, the grey shades of the sky, the flat rooftops and in the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge.
Thunder struck again and she saw lightning flash out of a cloud, purple and white streaks of electricity ripping the sky.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” He asked, a strange excitement in his voice, his gaze lost in the sky ahead of him. “You can always see them from up here.”
It was beautiful, yes, and she wondered how many lightning storms he had watched here by himself, how many rainy days and nights. She wondered if he could see lightning striking from any window of the new place he was about to move into. She looked at him and he glanced at her quickly, let go of her wrist.
“Guess I should show you the rest of the apartment now. Come on.”
Jessica nodded. Most of her coffee was still steaming in her mug but she didn’t protest, she followed him out of the kitchen, past the hall, through another arch into another white room. An ivory piano stood against one of the walls, an armchair in a corner faced two large windows opening onto the rounded balconies she had admired from the outside. Next to the armchair an ashtray and a candle laid on the floor.
“Can you play?” She asked pointing at the piano.
He shrugged. “Let’s say I could be better. It helps me to relax when I feel tense. I
“I need more space. The more space I have the more space I tend to need. I’m moving to Russian Hill. Been there yet?” She shook her head, her lips brushing against the mug she was holding close to her face. “Much quieter than here. I like peace and quiet, you see.”
“Is this not a quiet place?”
“Oh yes, it is. It’s really very quiet. It’s just me, I guess. I like real peace and quiet.”
“And space.”
“And space, yes. That’s about all I need. What about you? Have you considered moving out of San Francisco? You could go anywhere in the world.”
She shrugged. “I guess it’s best if I stay here, my publishing company and my editor being here and all that. I like it here...”
And Kaitlyn did... But she couldn’t tell him that.
His eyes were an interesting colour, grey-blue. He had a way of keeping his head slightly lowered while looking at her that made them shady, as if he was trying to hide his stare underneath his eyebrows, behind his long hair. He was weirdly handsome.
“You bought it, then.” He said out of the blue, nodding towards the handbag sitting by her feet. The top corner of the copy of today’s San Francisco Post she had bought that morning poked out of the open zip.
“Oh, this! Yes, I was intrigued.” She patted her bag the way one does with a faithful pet.
“And? Can you see how cartoonists don’t need to be fat and middle-aged now?”
She could. His cartoon strip was nothing like she had imagined. Elysa by Gospel . Beautifully drawn, moody, the overall feel of it closer to Japanese cartoons she remembered watching as a kid then what she had up to then associated with newspaper’s strips. But after only two editions of the Post she still couldn’t quite make out what it was all about.
“It’s different. I like it. I’m not really into cartoons so, sorry if I offended you the other day. I didn’t mean to.”
“God, no, you didn’t. No offence taken at all.”
“Good. Why the pen name?”
He shrugged. “I like it that way. I’m not after fame and recognition. I just want to do what I like. Besides, William sounds a bit too ordinary.”
Lightening flashed and thunder struck outside and Blaise stood up from his wooden box quickly, leaving his mug on the floor.
“Come here, I want to show you something.”
He held her wrist gently and guided her to one of the windows by the sink, where she left her mug and waited for something to happen, admiring the view, the grey shades of the sky, the flat rooftops and in the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge.
Thunder struck again and she saw lightning flash out of a cloud, purple and white streaks of electricity ripping the sky.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” He asked, a strange excitement in his voice, his gaze lost in the sky ahead of him. “You can always see them from up here.”
It was beautiful, yes, and she wondered how many lightning storms he had watched here by himself, how many rainy days and nights. She wondered if he could see lightning striking from any window of the new place he was about to move into. She looked at him and he glanced at her quickly, let go of her wrist.
“Guess I should show you the rest of the apartment now. Come on.”
Jessica nodded. Most of her coffee was still steaming in her mug but she didn’t protest, she followed him out of the kitchen, past the hall, through another arch into another white room. An ivory piano stood against one of the walls, an armchair in a corner faced two large windows opening onto the rounded balconies she had admired from the outside. Next to the armchair an ashtray and a candle laid on the floor.
“Can you play?” She asked pointing at the piano.
He shrugged. “Let’s say I could be better. It helps me to relax when I feel tense. I
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