Last-Minute Love (from 2nd book in the Year of the Chick series)

Chapter Two

Do people need a license to use an umbrella? Is this what society has come to?

I often had this thought on rainy days in the city, when small clumsy women wielded big clear umbrellas, with a complete lack of skills in circumference-management. My sensible black umbrella got pushed to the side by a clear and plastic menace yet again, but I pushed back just as hard and kept my pace. My two office besties Eleanor and Amy followed closely behind.

The Italian restaurant up ahead was a beacon of warmth and coziness, with just a few more paces to go. At last I opened the old wooden door, its hinges squeaking loudly to greet us. The soft classical music and eclectic scenery paintings were an instant escape from our retail corporate office, and the area in which it resided. This neighbourhood of ours had a handful of decent restaurants, no doubt, but otherwise midtown Toronto lacked a certain shine. Or in harsher terms, the hot spots were scarce and the man-parade was basically a dog show. This same lack of eye-candy permeated the office, as our VPs in charge of hiring kept the female-to-male hottie ratio noticeably unbalanced.

My friend Eleanor was one such female hottie. Even in gloomy April, when the breeze brought a chill and the rain beat hard against the restaurant window, she looked gorgeous. Not even a single strand of her long brown curls was out of place. To think this was her low-effort “office look.” Luckily she was smart and hilarious too, which was the reason we could actually be friends. She draped her coat over her seat and sat down, smiling at me as I struggled to remove my own (my own fault for wearing coats that barely fit...anything to keep from looking “boxy”).

“So how was your birthday off work?” she asked.

As exhilarating as my birthday had felt, a story about editing a book and then going to the museum would bore any human to tears. So I chose my words carefully. And briefly. “Productive and inspiring. Now let’s eat!”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Hold on...you started the final re-write of your book yesterday. This is a BIG deal, so stop glossing over it!”

I sighed and looked out the window, replacing the rainy scene with a fantasy where I wound up selling millions of copies. Then I remembered reality. “This won’t be a big deal until people start reading the book, leaving reviews, telling their friends...and all of that assumes I will actually find a few readers!” I frowned. “Anybody can self-publish, but telling a story that people care about?” I shook my head. “We’ll see.”

“We WILL see,” said Eleanor. “I have a feeling about you.” She smiled at me knowingly, while Amy tossed her menu at the table’s edge.

“I already know what I want,” said Amy. “Tons of food and to go back to work as late as possible!”

I nodded. “Ugh, I know. Having a day off work in the middle of the week blows. Sucks being back...” My voice trailed off as my face disappeared into the menu.

“So what if you’re back at the office?” said Amy. “At least you got promoted!” She punched my shoulder in a way that would leave a mark. Ouch! Amy definitely came in a small package, but with two years of boxing classes she could take down an army of ninjas. You’d never guess it, with her warm inviting smile, soft brown hair to her shoulders, and matching big brown eyes. But it was there, always bubbling underneath the surface.

I’d actually been missing Amy’s abuse, since I’d moved two floors away from her and Eleanor (the result of my recent promotion). It didn’t seem like a big distance, but different floors were like different time zones at our office. Now we would only see each other on scheduled coffee breaks. Tragic. How I’d convinced the higher-ups I was actually doing a good job was a new accomplishment in bullshitting. It also meant a lot more responsibility in planning weekly promotions, and a brand new boss I was having some trouble figuring out. Maybe if he actually showed up for work more than twice a week...