Pre-Note from the Author:
Ahh, so sorry guys about the wait! It's just my life's been hectic and I hadn't been able to make time to write! I know, I know, typical writer excuses, :\. Thanks so much for sticking with this story!
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Chapter 3 - Life's Looking Up
Holly
The sunlight streamed in through the window; its heat warming my exposed skin, there was a constant beeping of car horns, and the smell of freshly laundered cloths filled my nose. Mmm…. Wait a second. My clothes don’t smell like that. My eyes fluttered open. What the…? My room had a ceiling fan and all my walls were wooden; this bare ceiling was a plain cream color. Where the hell am I? I struggled to free myself from the tangled sheets.
“Oof!” Smooth move, Holly. Smooth move.
I was on the carpeted ground. Trapped in the cocoon of a very nice-smelling, baby blue blanket. Okay. Something was definitely wrong. My room had paneled floors and my blanket was light green. Oh, right. The Big Apple. Living in the same apartment with the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen. Well, that really snaps things into perspective, doesn’t it? I squirmed out of comforter’s grip. I stood up, stretched, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, washed my face, the whole nine yards. Still yawning groggily, I stumbled to the kitchen, frequently bumping into walls.
Where’s Blake? A folded blanket lay tidily on the sofa. A white index card caught my eye; it was leaning against the coffee machine.
Hey Holly,
By now, you’ve probably realized I’m not here. That’s ‘cause I’m at the Pâtisserie Café. Well, I suppose you want to go see your father. There’s some money under this note; it should be enough to have a taxi drive you from here to the NYU hospital. I hadn’t wanted you to take the subway; I was afraid you would get lost. After you visit your father, you can come to the Pâtisserie Café or you can just come back here. Have a great day!
Sincerely,
Blake
P.S. There’s some food in the fridge, and the coffee machine is easy to figure out.
Aw, he actually cared! I probably would’ve gotten lost on the subway anyway. I tucked the one-hundred-thirty dollars away in my pocket. Time for breakfast.
I scavenged through his scanty fridge and freezer. Hmm… ah, Eggo waffles! I threw the strawberry waffles into the toaster oven, turned the time dial, and hoped for the best. As my waffles thawed, I poked through my carry-on for clothes to wear. I wriggled into a plain white v-neck, ripped jeans shorts, and swaggered out of the room in my favorite comfy pair of leather thong sandals.
Holy shit! Smoke was billowing out of the smoldering toaster. I instantly unplugged it, opened the little glass door, and plucked the burnt waffles off the metal rack.
“Ow, ow! Hot, hot, hot!”
I pitched the black circles into the trash can. There goes my breakfast. Well, at least I didn’t break the toaster. This time, I stuck with the safe choice of fruits.
I wobbled down the apartment steps, still in shock from the waffle incident. I stood on the bustling sidewalk. Uh, how am I supposed to do this? I stuck my arm out hoping a taxi would stop for me.
A taxi passed by.
Hey!
And another.
C’mon!
And another.
I should really complain to the manager of these drivers.
And another.
Okay, I’m pretty sure that driver saw me.
And another.
Oh wait, he already has a passenger.
And another.
I’m going to wave my arms like a maniac in three… two… one—
A yellow cab pulled to a stop in front of me. It’s about time! I opened the back door and scooted down the seat.
The driver turned around. And his eyebrows shot up.
He drawled, “Whoa, hey sexy….”
He ogled my chest as I spoke to him, “Um, can you take me to the NYU hospital?”
“Sure, anything for you, baby,” he complied as he continued to not look at my face.
I self-consciously pulled the neckline of my t-shirt up. Why did I have to wear THIS shirt today? Why?!
“Can we go now?”
He started the taxi. One step closer to Dad….
“So, what’s your name, pretty girl?”
Okay, I was seriously getting irked by this guy’s personality; the aggravating pet names, the staring, and he was driving with one hand on the steering wheel; which is EXTREMELY unsafe on the streets of New York!
He would swerve around turns; swing recklessly into other lanes, and rudely cut off people which earned us a LOT of irritated honks from other cars. I don’t want to die today, please.
“Holly,” I replied reluctantly.
“Fits you. Cute name for a cute girl.”
“And yours?” I asked politely; I honestly didn’t want to know.
“Josh.”
The rest of the ride wasn’t silent. There was always either Josh cracking inappropriate jokes I didn’t understand, Josh making snide comments about New York City’s drivers (I thought they drove quite well; I think Josh was the only New York City cabbie who was a terrible driver;), or Josh just talking. And then there was me, not listening.
I wonder how Blake is doing….
Blake
My eyelids felt as if they weighed two tons, my shoulders sagged tiredly, and I was barely holding up my head. Sure, I had the best sleep in years, but I didn’t have much of it. I fell asleep around twelve last night, forcing myself to wake up at five.
The café was packed even for a Saturday morning; almost all the counter seats and table seats were filled. And I had served every customer.
I grumbled to myself, “If it hadn’t been for Josh, I would’ve been at home right now, sleeping in until ten….”
I swear I would’ve dropped dead on the counter from exhaustion, if Dylan hadn’t walked in at that moment.
He grinned at me, “Mornin’, sunshine.”
“You suck.”
“Anytime, Blake. Anytime.”
He kicked his bags into the kitchenette, watching it slide across the tiles until it bumped into the back wall. He examined me in my sorry state and smiled sadly.
“Sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to go all ballistic on you. It’s just my wife had planned to go out so we could do something together.”
“Oh god, I’m so sorry.”
Dylan never really got the chance to be with his wife because he always here, working in the café. Over the years, tired, bruise-tinged shadows formed under Dylan’s eyes as a result of all the stress. Dylan was one of those kind of people who looked much older than their actual years.
“Well, that still didn’t give me the right to scream at you like that.”
“Nah, you shouldn’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to drive Josh’s passengers.”
Dylan’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the sound of Josh’s name. Back in the day, Dylan, Josh, and I were the best of friends. Actually, let me rephrase that. I was friends with Josh and Dylan, but they weren’t really friends with each other. The opposite, in fact. If I turned away for even a second, they’d be at each other’s throats snarling like rabid hellhounds. I never understood why they hated each other so much.
“I’m not surprised that lazy little weasel kept you back.”
“Hey, don’t talk about my friends like that.”
Dylan snorted, “I don’t understand why you’re still friends with that loser.”
“I don’t understand why you’re not.”
“It’s a long story that you would never understand.”
“I’ve got nothin’, but time, Dylan. Nothin’, but time.”
“You wanna sit at a table? I’m not kidding when I’m saying it’s a long story.”
We were just about to take a seat at a table when Matthew walked in.
Dylan backtracked to the kitchenette to make Matthew’s coffee.
“Here you go, sir.”
We were practically settled into our seats when a head-turning, eye-widening, petite blonde lady opened the door. She sauntered in as if she owned the place; she had the grace and posture of a professional ballerina, and the walk of a model.
But she nearly tripped head over heels at the sight of me.
“BLAKEY!” she shrieked gleefully.
Holly
“Have you ever been to the Statue of Liberty? When the sun is setting; it’s a gorgeous view. Romantic, really. We should go together sometime—”
I cut off his hopeless suggestions, “—is this it?”
A large building that consisted of many blue windows towered before us. A purple circle that read, “NYU Medical Center” hovered in one corner.
“Er, yeah, it is.”
“Thanks so much,” I lied as I chucked sixty dollars at him and scrambled out of the cab.
“Hey, hold up! It’s only fifty dollars!”
“Keep the change!” I hollered at him.
He dashed out of the car and cut in front of me; he shoved ten dollars at me and then implied, “You know, instead of fifty dollars; I wouldn’t mind a kiss right now.”
I took off, sprinting as fast as my legs would carry me to the front doors of the hospital.
“Go… go kiss a dog!”
You have no idea how great it felt to say that.
I pushed through the doors and unfolded the ten dollar bill Josh had returned to me. A folded strip of paper drifted to the floor. I leaned down to pick it up.
Call me.
I scoffed and shredded the paper before I could read the number that had been scrawled next to the message.
I sprinkled the scraps into a trash can and smiled at the receptionist, “Hi, may I please see Adrian Maxwell?”
“And what is your name?”
“I’m Holly Maxwell, his daughter.”
She scribbled down my name and said, “Room 127. It’s down that hallway.”
“Thank you.”
I passed various doors noting the numbers; room 121… 123… 124… 125…126… 127. I stopped and knocked lightly on the door.
A man with a stern face cracked the door open just a little.
“Hi, may I come in?”
“You are…?”
“Holly Maxwell.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Maxwell is in critical condition and is unable to see anyone at the moment.”
“But please! He’s my father! Just for five minutes!”
“One minute.”
“Two minutes!”
“How about thirty seconds?”
My mouth fell open; this guy was mean!
“Thought so.”
He acquiescingly opened the door.
Machines churned and beeped, wires were crazily tangled, and my sallow, lifeless father lay on the hospital bed in the midst of all the madness.
I was at his side within a second, amazingly not having tripped over any of those life-threatening cords. Adrian’s eyes were closed, sweat shone on his pasty forehead, and the faint rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life.
“Daddy? Daddy, get better for me. I love you a lot.”
No response.
“Daddy? Daddy?” I called more urgently.
“He’s not going to respond.”
My head whipped around to find a smug smile pasted on the doctor’s face.
“Why?”
“He’s in a coma.”
“But he had a heart attack, not a stroke.”
“Well, when we examined him, he had a nice goose egg on the back of his head.”
The vision of Adrian falling off the café stool and slamming into the ground played in my head.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?!”
If Adrian wasn’t in his care, I would’ve slapped him across his conceited face.
“Hey, hey, no profanity! A girl your age shouldn’t speak such words.”
I snapped, “I’m twenty-one for your information.”
“Wow, I thought you were twelve.”
I shot up and shoved him hard, almost sending him into the machines, “If my father dies, I will sue your ass for all it’s worth.”
I swung the door shut causing it to vibrate resoundingly and left the hospital.
That stupid, little—
I pushed my thoughts of the doctor away and focused on retrieving a taxi.
“Yo! Holly!”
Oh, please don’t let it be Josh, please don’t let it be Josh—
“Holly, if you keep your eyes closed you’re going to end up tripping over some toddler.”
“You waited for me?”
“Yeah of course, my gentlemanliness couldn’t bear to let you wander the dangerous streets of New York alone!”
“Uh, it’s day, and I’m sure I could’ve hailed a cab by myself, Josh.”
Josh feigned hurt, “You don’t like me?”
Exasperated, I exhaled slowly, “Thank you, Josh, for waiting for me.”
Yet again, I was forced against my will to endure another car ride with Josh. My kindness is never rewarded. I guess this means I should stop being kind.
“The Pâtisserie Café, right?”
I pressed eighty dollars into the palm of his hand and escaped the confinement of the cab. Yes! Freedom!
I heard another set of footfalls at my heels and I whirled around.
“Josh, I’m taking the subway home after this; I’ll be fine."
A lie. I couldn’t take the subway to Portland.
“I was actually just going to say hi to a friend.”
The café was empty except for Blake, another attendant, a short, pretty blonde girl, and a man with his face shielded behind the shadow of his fedora. The man stood up swiftly and barreled through me and Josh, almost sending me face-first into a table. And he was gone.
“What the—?”
Josh was sitting on the floor in bewilderment and shrugged, “I, uh, guess he was late for a meeting.”
The tall attendant had come out from behind the counter and stuck his hand out towards Josh in an effort to help him and then pulled away, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Joshy boy.”
“Shut up.” Josh’s eyes were wide with fury as he got to his feet.
“It’s been so long, and this is how you greet me, Joshy boy?”
Blake cut in, “Dyl, shut your trap.”
Josh stuttered, “I’ll… I’ll see you later, Blake. Bye, Holly.”
“Thank you, Josh… again.”
The burly server had decided to have a glare-down with Josh. Neither of them seemed to move a muscle, much less breathe. You could’ve cut the tension with a knife.
Josh finally turned away and left the café.
Blake let out a sigh of relief and his eyes instantly brightened at the sight of me, “Hey, Holly.”
The other man turned to me and apologized, “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’m Dylan Summers, by the way.”
“Holly.”
The other girl spun around on her stool and introduced, “And I’m Charlotte.”
“New York’s youngest, and most trend-setting—,” Blake added.
“—and shortest—,” Dylan continued.
“—fashion designer,” Blake finished as he and Dylan retreated to their spot behind the counter.
Charlotte was short, very short, but that didn’t stop every woman in the same room to take a hit on her self-esteem. I was the only other female in the luncheonette.
She had dancing, sea-blue eyes, and straight, wispy, golden hair. There wasn’t a trace of make-up on her flawless face, probably because there was no need.
I took a seat next to her, envying her beauty, charm, and just plain perfectness. I was surprised Dylan and Blake weren’t drooling like dumbstruck dogs.
“How was your day? How’s your dad?” Blake asked.
“Terrible. He’s in a coma. And has a shitty doctor,” I slapped my hand over my mouth in realization.
I eyed Charlotte as I exclaimed, “Excuse me for my language!”
Charlotte laughed, “I’m nineteen, not nine.”
“Sorry, it’s just that Blake said you were New York’s youngest fashion designer and you’re sorta short.”
“No offense,” I rushed to add.
Dylan guffawed, “Her doctor had said she had like a birth defect or something and was destined to be a midget!”
“Shut up!” Charlotte slapped Dylan sportively.
I questioned Dylan, “Really? How did you know that?”
Dylan’s arm whipped around Charlotte and pulled them closer together, “You can’t see the family resemblance?”
I pointed to Dylan and then to Charlotte, “You guys are—?”
“Yep, Charlie here is my little sis.”
They honestly looked like polar opposites, other than their identical eyes. They both had blonde hair, but Dylan’s hair was sun-bleached, almost white, while Charlotte’s hair was a darker, dirty-blonde. Dylan was extremely tan and Charlotte was startlingly pale. Dylan’s nose was flaring and bulky whereas Charlotte had one of those tiny button noses. Dylan was a massively muscular guy and Charlotte was pretty much half his size. Opposite in almost every way.
“But you guys look nothing alike!”
“That’s ‘cause big ol’ Dyl thrives on the beaches of Coney Island and soaks up all the sand and sun he can get,” Charlotte responded.
“And Charlie lives in Queens, closest to Manhattan, so she can be as far away from the ocean, and me, as possible. That’s why she never visits me. Isn’t she a great little sis?"
“What are you talking about? You never visit me!”
Blake, sensing a sibling quarrel, declared, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the bathroom!” and left me, Dylan, and Charlotte alone.
Charlotte threw her hands up in the air and cried, “That’s it! I give up on guys!”
I looked at her in bafflement as she hid her face with her arms on the countertop. Why would she give up on guys? She’s gorgeous! She could get any guy she wanted to!
Dylan shook his head, “Charlie’s been madly in love with Blake ever since the beginning of time. But Blake was never one to take a hint and now you drop in. He clearly likes you. Weird, ‘cause I’ve never seen Blake so crazy over a girl before.”
“Me?!” I pointed to myself in skepticism, “Uh, I think you guys got it wrong.”
Dylan stated, “All the signs are there—”
“—the glazed eyes, the excessive smiling,” Charlotte mumbled.
“—the way he leans towards you when you talk—”
“—I wish he reacted that way towards me…,” Charlotte gushed.
Dylan claimed, “All guys react that way towards you, Charlie. Well, except me, of course. And Blake.”
“I think Blake—”
“—Talking about me?”
Blake stood in the kitchenette doorway with one eyebrow sexily raised. I had to give it to her; Charlotte had good taste in guys. Charlotte flushed as red as a stop sign. He slid onto the stool next to her and his arm snaked around her waist, which caused Charlotte to redden even more.
“Isn’t she the cutest thing? Dyl, can I adopt her?”
Charlotte hissed under her breath, only allowing me to hear, “I think Blake thinks I like him in a brotherly kind of way.”
Dylan belittled, “Um, no, she is not the ‘cutest’ thing and if you’re going to adopt her, please move far, far away and take her with you.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes, “And Dyl asks why I never visit him….”
We ate lunch; an assortment of various pastries, and chatted for the next few hours.
Charlotte was stuffing a cupcake in her mouth when she blurted, “Oh, shit!” Charlotte smiled at me, clearly recalling the profanity incident, “It’s four o’ clock! I’ve got to go; got an appointment with a client!”
Dylan ruffled her hair, “Alright, bye Charles!”
Charlotte smacked his hand away, “You can call me Charlie, not Charles.”
Charlotte released the door handle letting the bells jingle cheerfully.
“Bye Charlie!” Blake called.
I waved farewell, “It was nice meeting you, Charlotte!”
I liked Charlotte. Even though she was that cliché, impeccable, blonde, blue-eyed angel, she wasn’t snobby. She was fun to have around. My first friend. Hopefully, not my last.
“So,” Dylan wiggled his eyebrows at me, “Are you Blakey’s girlfriend?”
I wish.
Blake answered for me, “Er, no. Just a… just a lady friend.”
“Well, I was thinking…,” Dylan trailed.
Blake joked, “That’s a first.”
“Would you guys like to see the Coney Island fireworks with me and Melinda this Friday?"
I thought aloud, “Melinda…?”
“My wife.”
“Oh!” But Dylan looks so young!
Blake reminded, “But Dyl, I’ve got the night shift on weekdays. Five to ten; remember?”
“I got Tim to cover your position.”
Blake’s eyes flickered in my direction, “Do you want to go?”
“It’s not like I have anything to do.”
Blake appeared to glow with happiness, “Great! Nine o’ clock, right?”
“Always.”
I had a date! With Blake! Sort of.
Blake
Three o’ clock quickly became eleven o’ clock and it was time to leave.
Once again, Holly got stuck in the turnstile. Dylan was bowled over, holding his stomach, and laughing hysterically. I was grinning so hard my face was smarting. Holly’s presence just made me feel so happy. I had no idea why.
The A Line came and we parted.
Dylan concluded, “Well, I gotta go catch Number Seven. T’was a pleasure getting to know you, Holly. See you on Monday, Blakester."
When we got back to the apartment, Holly changed into her pajamas, but didn’t feel like sleeping. So she sat at the foot of the couch flipping through my newspapers. I couldn’t stop myself from staring. There were no words in the English dictionary that could possibly explicate her beauty—
“Take a picture; it lasts longer,” Holly recommended nonchalantly as she flipped through the pages of The New York Times.
I hopped off the couch and searched for my camera in my kitchen drawer. I knew she was kidding, but I went by the motto, ‘when opportunity knocks, open the door.’
When the flash went off, she threw down the newspaper.
“I wasn’t serious!"
“I know,” I smirked as I snapped away.
She stuck her palm out in front of her and growled menacingly, “Camera. Now.”
“Not—” Click. “gonna—” Click. “happen.” Click.
Note to self: Never underestimate a skinny girl’s speed.
She was on me, piggy-back style, reaching for the camera in my outstretched hands. She was pleasantly warm against me. I let the camera graze her fingertips teasingly. She slumped against my back when she finally realized she wouldn’t be able to delete the pictures. She had her face buried in my neck so I would stop taking snapshots.
Her voice was muffled against my neck, “You’re mean.”
I teased, “Aw, you’re no fun. You give up so easily.”
She looked up in time for me to take a picture of her head beside mine.
Her face scrunched up in vexation, “Can I please have the camera?”
“I don’t know; if I give it to you, will you get off of me?”
“Of course.”
“Well in that case… I’ll keep the camera.”
“What?!”
I flashed a wicked grin, “I like this position.”
She swatted my shoulder, “You perv!” and immediately got off of me.
I chuckled, placed the camera in the back pocket of my jeans, and waved her off, “G’night.”
She stomped off to my room and slammed the door shut.
As I ambled towards the bathroom, I scolded, “Don’t slam the door!”
“Whatevs, Mom.”
I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
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Post-Note from the Author:
*Fist pump*, yay; 500 reads! :O So exciting! For me, at least. :) Hope you all enjoyed it! Please vote&comment, it's so very much appreciated! Thanks! :D