The Woman Who Fell To Earth

Chapter 10

Art exited the taxi and turned to take David's hand to help her out. It was as though a vacuum sucked out the chatter the instant David came into view. Faces magnetically turned toward her, some mouths silenced and hung open slightly, many eyes dilated, several breaths were held. David took no notice, but took Art's hand and scanned the area. It was clichéd, but all eyes were on her.

Art noticed the stares and silence, save for the thumping music piping from the lounge. He scanned the hordes for familiar faces, and landed on Marc's bald head like a beacon. "I see someone," he told David, and they made their way through the bodies, the masses parting like the Red Sea. Art waved his arm back and forth until Marc took notice and nodded an acknowledgement. But the moment Marc's eyes fell on David, his face changed. He was no longer Marc from the office, Marc being cool nodding to his officemate, but Marc in a trance, staring at the sun. When he realized the sun was with Art, he puffed out his chest, sucked in his stomach and smiled a crooked smile.

"Hey buddy," he said to Art. "Glad you made it." He gave Art a fist bump, which looked natural to Marc, but awkward when Art tried to reciprocate.

"Where is everybody?" Art asked, not seeing any other coworker in the vicinity.

Marc nodded toward the door. "Trying to get a table. I think we're stuck out here for hours."

"Huh," Art noted. He gestured toward David. "Marc, this is my friend David. She's visiting for a while." Turning to David, he said, "This is Marc."

Marc eyed David. "Pleasure," he said. "I'm sorry, I thought he said David."

David extended her slender hand. "He did. Yes, David. The pleasure is mine."

Marc took her hand and held it until it seemed he would never let go. With a lift of an eyebrow, David cast a spell which made him release it. "That's, uh," Marc stuttered, "that's a pretty unusual name for a girl," he said.

David shrugged.

"She's from England," said Art, like that explained it.

"Oh, I see," said Marc, even though he didn't. He addressed Art. "So, uh, is she the woman, did you meet her at the—"

Art cut him off. "No, no. David's an old family friend."

"Ah," said Marc. "Of course." Now he could make sense of this nonsensical pairing. "Well, we're happy to have you with us," he said to David.

"Do you buy machines as well?" David asked.

"No, I sell them," said Marc.

Just then, Art saw several familiar faces move in toward them. Thomas, Alexis, and Lindsay Haywood. Even Tony from the elevator. "Sup?" said Tony.

"Oh my god," said Alexis. She had taken off her cardigan and was wearing a revealing lace camisole that made Art blush. Her dark skin shined with what looked like glitter she had dusted on her décolletage. "We are never going to get a table. Never." She held up her hands in defeat.

"What'd they say?" Marc asked.

Thomas answered, "They've got at least a two hour wait, and even though the bar is first come, first serve, look at this line. There's no way."

Lindsay stomped her heel on the ground in frustration. "That's it. I. Am. Never. Going. To. Get. To. Eat. ANYWHERE TRENDY IN MY LIFE!" she shrieked, her big brown eyes dark with rage. "I hate this city," she grumbled through clenched teeth.

David drew Art close. "Wait here," she said quietly to him, then walked away. The others hadn't realized she was with the group until she spoke to Art, then all gaped as they watched her walk to the front doors, laundry basket tick tocking on her hips to the rhythm of her footsteps.