truck had hit me.
I trudged to the bathroom and examined my face in the mirror. Most of my cuts were healing. But the few that Pintdick had broken open had fresh little bloody scabs and faint purple and green bruises blossomed on the skin underneath them. I sported under eye circles the size of small dark Wisconsin lakes. I was so incredibly pretty. Not.
I showered, pulled on some jeans, a T-shirt and sunglasses. I grabbed a cookie and walked to the commercial center of Westwood to get a new phone. An hour and a half later my sole mission for today was accomplished.
I grabbed a salad and a falafel at a Mediterranean fast food joint and took a seat by the window by myself. I watched everyone inside the place sharing a meal as they chatted with friends or family. I left my trap on the stand next to the door and left. My heart tugged and I felt homesick. Perfect time to call my best friend back home: Mary Martha Mapleson.
She picked up on the second ring. “You miss me already, don’t you? Changed your mind about your most excellent adventure. What time should I pick you up at the airport tonight?”
I smiled. “Triple M, I do miss you! What’s going on back home?”
“Except for pre-season Packers’ football starting it’s same old, same old. Dull and boring. Done anything interesting? Met anyone exciting?”
The hottest guy I’ve ever met rescued me and made me cookies. The creepiest asshat attacked me. I’ve been to the hospital twice in three days. “You have no idea.” I spotted a small park and plopped down on a bench. We launched into our typical hour-long chat.
Back at my new place my e-reader was still broken, so I read a paper book for a change. Flipped through channels on TV, surfed the Internet. Wondered if Cole was home. Thought about knocking on his door and seeing what he was doing, but I didn’t want to become the pathetic, creepy, new neighbor who always showed up unannounced. The sun set. I changed into PJs and surfed the Internet looking for more YouTube videos on the different types of healing I wanted to explore. Some looked great, some weird and frankly some looked downright Dr. Frankenstein scary.
It was ten o’clock and I was still wide-awake. And I thought about Alejandro. He was obviously an Alpha Boy, but there was something different about him. Something intriguing. It didn’t hurt that he could be the poster guy for the California Tourism Board. “Enjoy your visit to So-Cal. We guarantee you’ll want to stay and play for a while!”
I had more appointments with healers lined up in Playa del Vista and strange places called Compton and Gardena. I really didn’t know how in the hell I’d get to them without getting attacked or killed in traffic or surprised by more religious zealots. At least back home the Jehovah’s ladies dressed in pretty dresses and hats and knocked on your door instead of jumping in front of you. An idea percolated in my brain. I wondered if… nah. That was crazy!
My stomach rumbled. I’d forgotten to go grocery shopping. I went into the kitchen, pulled out a cookie from the tinfoil in the basket and gobbled it down. Munched on a second one and picked up Alejandro’s invite from the night before.
So call or email me, or track me down at the Grill where I tend to hang out…
Alejandro
I brushed my teeth, dabbed on some lip gloss, brushed my hair, pulled on jeans, and a stretchy long-sleeved V-neck top that would hide the bruises on my arms from the blood draw as well as the ones on my back from the stem cell injections. I grabbed a jacket, my purse, and walked out my front door. Locked it and heard a small growl. Gidget was in the kitchen window next door.
“Cut a girl a break. I’m just going ’cause I’m hungry. And I’m polite. Midwestern girls are polite.” I said. She wagged her tail at me.
* * *
I stood outside the entrance of the Westwood Grill. It was Saturday, but later than my unfortunate incident from the
I trudged to the bathroom and examined my face in the mirror. Most of my cuts were healing. But the few that Pintdick had broken open had fresh little bloody scabs and faint purple and green bruises blossomed on the skin underneath them. I sported under eye circles the size of small dark Wisconsin lakes. I was so incredibly pretty. Not.
I showered, pulled on some jeans, a T-shirt and sunglasses. I grabbed a cookie and walked to the commercial center of Westwood to get a new phone. An hour and a half later my sole mission for today was accomplished.
I grabbed a salad and a falafel at a Mediterranean fast food joint and took a seat by the window by myself. I watched everyone inside the place sharing a meal as they chatted with friends or family. I left my trap on the stand next to the door and left. My heart tugged and I felt homesick. Perfect time to call my best friend back home: Mary Martha Mapleson.
She picked up on the second ring. “You miss me already, don’t you? Changed your mind about your most excellent adventure. What time should I pick you up at the airport tonight?”
I smiled. “Triple M, I do miss you! What’s going on back home?”
“Except for pre-season Packers’ football starting it’s same old, same old. Dull and boring. Done anything interesting? Met anyone exciting?”
The hottest guy I’ve ever met rescued me and made me cookies. The creepiest asshat attacked me. I’ve been to the hospital twice in three days. “You have no idea.” I spotted a small park and plopped down on a bench. We launched into our typical hour-long chat.
Back at my new place my e-reader was still broken, so I read a paper book for a change. Flipped through channels on TV, surfed the Internet. Wondered if Cole was home. Thought about knocking on his door and seeing what he was doing, but I didn’t want to become the pathetic, creepy, new neighbor who always showed up unannounced. The sun set. I changed into PJs and surfed the Internet looking for more YouTube videos on the different types of healing I wanted to explore. Some looked great, some weird and frankly some looked downright Dr. Frankenstein scary.
It was ten o’clock and I was still wide-awake. And I thought about Alejandro. He was obviously an Alpha Boy, but there was something different about him. Something intriguing. It didn’t hurt that he could be the poster guy for the California Tourism Board. “Enjoy your visit to So-Cal. We guarantee you’ll want to stay and play for a while!”
I had more appointments with healers lined up in Playa del Vista and strange places called Compton and Gardena. I really didn’t know how in the hell I’d get to them without getting attacked or killed in traffic or surprised by more religious zealots. At least back home the Jehovah’s ladies dressed in pretty dresses and hats and knocked on your door instead of jumping in front of you. An idea percolated in my brain. I wondered if… nah. That was crazy!
My stomach rumbled. I’d forgotten to go grocery shopping. I went into the kitchen, pulled out a cookie from the tinfoil in the basket and gobbled it down. Munched on a second one and picked up Alejandro’s invite from the night before.
So call or email me, or track me down at the Grill where I tend to hang out…
Alejandro
I brushed my teeth, dabbed on some lip gloss, brushed my hair, pulled on jeans, and a stretchy long-sleeved V-neck top that would hide the bruises on my arms from the blood draw as well as the ones on my back from the stem cell injections. I grabbed a jacket, my purse, and walked out my front door. Locked it and heard a small growl. Gidget was in the kitchen window next door.
“Cut a girl a break. I’m just going ’cause I’m hungry. And I’m polite. Midwestern girls are polite.” I said. She wagged her tail at me.
* * *
I stood outside the entrance of the Westwood Grill. It was Saturday, but later than my unfortunate incident from the
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