Good Vibrations

by S. L. Scott

  When the brass doors reopen, we walk down the hall to our rooms. Cory and I don’t do small talk. We’ve been friends for years, best friends if I think about it.

  “Maybe you should call her,” he suggests as we open our doors.

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Night.”

  “Night,” I mumble and shut the door behind me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  - Holliday Hughes -

  “Comfort zones are like women. You have to try a few before you find the one that feels right.” ~Johnny Outlaw

  That damn lime and coconut song has been playing on a loop in my head, driving me nuts for hours. I make a mental note: Fire Tracy in the morning for subjecting me to that song twenty-thousand times yesterday. She called it inspirational. I call it torture after the first two times.

  Rolling over, I look at the time. 4:36 a.m. I have four hours before I need to be on the road. This may be a business trip, but it will still be good to get away for a few days. I need a break. I’ve been in a bad mood lately. The spa and I have a date I’m really looking forward to. The thought alone relaxes me. I close my eyes and try to get a few more hours of sleep before I need to leave for Las Vegas.

  I get two tops.

  I tighten my robe at the neck. Just as I open my front door to get the paper, I hear a male voice say, “Hello?”

  Peeking through the crack, I hold the door protectively in front of me just in case I need to close and lock it quickly. “Hi.”

  “I’m your new neighbor. I just moved in last week. I’m Danny.”

  Curious, I slowly stick my head out to get a better look at this Danny. Strands of my sandy blonde hair fall in front of my eyes, so I tuck it behind my ear and get an eyeful. To my surprise, he’s quite handsome and has a big smile. “Oh, um,” I say, dragging my hand down the back of my hair, hoping to tame the wild strands. “Hi. I’m Holli. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  He nods toward the paper on the bottom of the shared Spanish tiled steps that lead to our townhomes. “I’ll get your paper since you’re not dressed.”

  “Thanks.” I watch him. He looks like he just got back from a run or workout—a little sweaty, but not gross, in that sexy kind of way. Or maybe Danny’s just sexy. He’s well built with short, brown hair and when he bends over, I notice his strong legs and arms. Well-defined muscles lead to—Oh my God! Not just my face, but my entire body heats from embarrassment. Hoping he doesn’t say anything about me checking him out, I turn away and start picking at a piece of peeling stucco near my house number. “Um, so are you settled in, liking your place?”

  His chuckling confirms I was busted. But he’s a gentleman, so he acts as if it didn’t happen. “I like the neighborhood. The place is great,” he says. “I like all the space, especially the patio. I’m thinking of having a party to break it in, maybe in a few weeks after I finish unpacking.” He hands me the paper and takes two steps back. “You should stop by.”

  Nodding, I look into his eyes. I think they’re brown, lighter than mine, more honey-colored. His offer is friendly, not a come on, which is good since we’re neighbors now. “Thanks for the invitation.”

  Walking back to his door, he steals one more glimpse over his shoulder. “Have a great day. See you around, Holli.”

  “Yeah, see you around.”

  I shut the door, paper in hand, and fall against the wood with a smile on my face. One of my golden rules is not to date where I sleep, but I still appreciate that my new hottie neighbor is easy on the eyes. He might know it, but he doesn’t seem arrogant.

  I lock the door and get ready to leave.

  Los Angeles is hot, smoggy, and grey at this hour and I have a feeling it won’t be much different a few hours from now. I close the patio door and lock it, double checking for safety. After pulling the drapes closed, I take one last look around to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. I text Tracy and let her know I’m leaving. She doesn’t reply, but I’m not surprised. Her boyfriend proposed last night after six years of dating. Being the kind boss and friend I am, I let her out of this trip, so she could spend the weekend with their families to celebrate the engagement.

  There are selfish reasons as well for letting her off the hook. I really don’t think I can handle hours of sitting in the car with her as she reads bridal magazines and plans every detail of her big day. After too many dud dates in the last couple of months, I’m not in the right frame of mind to plan her happily ever after.

  With my garment bag in one hand and my suitcase in the other, I click the button, disarming my car’s alarm as I walk to my parking space. I’ve lived here a couple of years. I wanted a place near the beach that also had space for my office, and I was fortunate enough to find both in this townhome.

  A meme I created went viral three years ago this month. Who knew a snarky-mouthed fruit would be the way I make my fortune. I took it though and ran with the brand, building it into a small empire I named Limelight. The company is lean and I keep my costs under control. My fortune has grown by a few million in the last year alone.

  I back out onto the street and take the scenic route, one block up to the beach. Driving slowly along with my windows down, I let the sound of the waves and the smell of the ocean center me. At the first stoplight, I take one deep salty air breath, roll the window back up, and leave for Vegas.

  An hour into the trip, Tracy calls. I answer, but before I have a chance to speak, she asks, “Can I please tell you all about it again?” Happy laughter punctuates her question.

  “Of course. Tell me everything.” I’ll indulge her wedding fantasies because that’s what friends do… and because I have four hours to kill in the car. Listening to her takes my mind off the time and the miles stretching ahead of me as she relives every last detail of the proposal. Fortunately for me, she skims over the engagement sex.

  Her excitement is contagious and because I’ve known her and her fiancé, Adam, for so many years, my happiness exudes. “Congratulations again.”

  “Thank you for letting me stay home this weekend. You’ll be great and don’t be nervous. It’s just a rah-rah go get’em presentation and cocktail party. The rest of the time is all yours.”

  “You know how much I hate these kinds of events.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Your company’s success speaks for itself.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”

  “Drive safely and squeeze in some fun.”

  I laugh. “You know I’ll try. Bye.” When we hang up, I turn on some music and let the miles drift behind me.

  After a stop for gas half-way and a coffee later, I enter the glistening city in the desert. Pulling up to my hotel, I valet my car and take my own luggage to my room after checking in. I like this hotel because of the amenities, but the men aren’t bad to look at either—a little edgy, a lot sexy—lucky for this single girl.

  I spend a couple of hours checking emails and work on a proposal before I realize the time and need to get ready for the night. It’s Vegas, so I mix business with some sexy. I pull on a black fitted skirt that hits mid-thigh, an emerald green silk camisole with spaghetti straps, and a short black jacket. I slip on my favorite new pair of stilettos and after one last check of my makeup and hair, I head out.

  The meet and greet isn’t long, but I slip out at one point to use the restroom. As I’m walking back toward the ballroom, I’m drawn to a man standing with a group of people nearby. His magnetism captures me. He might just be the best looking man I’ve ever seen—tall, dark hair, strong jaw leading me up to seductive eyes aimed at me. His head tilts and for a split second in time, everyone else disappears. I break the connection by looking away, everything feeling too intense in the moment. When he laughs, I add that to his ongoing list of great attributes.

  When I pass, the feel of his gaze landing heavy on my backside warms my body. With my hand on the door, I pause, wanting to look back so badly. I resist the urge, open the door, and return to the pa
rty. The presentation portion of the evening is interesting. Despite that, my thoughts repeatedly drift back to the hot guy in the corridor—fitted jeans, black shirt, leather wristband. Damn I’m weak to a leather wristband.

  I’m mentally brought back to the presentation when my company is recognized as one to watch. The acknowledgement is nice, and it feels good to be among my peers.

  The dinner becomes more of a party as everyone wanders around instead of taking their seats. I’m not hungry and need to psych myself up to mingle. Tracy is awesome in these types of situations. Me, not so much.

  The ballroom is dimly lit, I’m guessing to set the ambiance, but since this is business, I can do without the romance. I head straight for the bar just like everyone else—one big cattle call to the liquor to make the rest of the night a little more bearable.

  “I usually hate these things,” I hear from the guy behind me. When I look over my shoulder, he gives me a half-smile—half-friendly, half-creepy. “But they don’t usually have attractive women either.”

  I roll my eyes while turning my back on him and his cheesy pick-up line.

  “I’m sorry. That was bad. I know,” he says with a weird nasally laugh.

  His breath hits my neck and I jerk back. “Do you mind? Ever hear of personal space?”

  “Sorry. You’re just really pretty.” He shrugs as if that makes everything better. “Your beauty is making me stupid.”

  “You think?” Big mistake.

  He actually takes my sarcastic comment as a conversation opener. “Yes, I do. But I can’t be the first to be dumbfounded by your beauty.”

  Standing on my tiptoes to see how many more people are in front of me, I exhale, disappointed by the long line. One person in line would have been too many at this point. “Excuse me,” I say and slip out of line. I find the table with my name tag on it, set my purse down, and take off my jacket. This hotel ballroom is crowded and too warm.

  Saved by a friendly face, I see Cara, a marketing strategist I know from L.A. Weaving between the tables, I sit down in a chair next to her. With her eyes focused on the paperwork in front of her, I ask, “Working during the party?”

  She looks up, smiling when she sees me. Opening her arms, she leans in and hugs me. “Holli, it’s so good to see you.”

  I went with a different company than hers for a campaign a while back and glad she’s not holding it against me. “Good to see you again.”

  “Congratulations on your success. Well deserved.”

  “I’m not sure if a smartass lime deserves the success it’s gotten, but I’ll take it.”

  She taps my leg. “You deserve it. It’s funny and quite catchy. Just take the accolades.”

  “Thanks.”

  Looking over my shoulder, she leans in and whispers, “I’m skipping out of here early, but I’m meeting a few people for dinner tomorrow. If you’re still in Vegas, you should join us.”

  “I’d love that. Thanks.”

  She stands up and grabs the papers in front of her. “Fantastic. I’ll text you the details tomorrow. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

  “Me too. See you tomorrow.”

  I’m left sitting alone. When I look around the room, like Cara, I’m thinking that skipping out early might be the way to go. If I do, I know Tracy will kick my ass, so I decide to suffer and give this party one last chance. But I definitely need a drink and the line for the bar in here is still way too long.

  I head for the doors to buy a drink in one of the many hotel bars—any bar without a line. Guy from the bar line jumps in front of me as I try to exit, startling me. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re not leaving already, are you?”

  Since my glare and earlier hints didn’t work, I reply, “I’ll be back, no need to worry yourself.”

  His head starts bobbing up and down, confidently, and a big Cheshire cat grin covers his face. I start walking again as he keeps talking… again. “Cool. I’ll see you later then.”

  I feel no need to respond to the come on, and will try to avoid him when I return. Following the wide-tiled path through the casino, which reminds me of the Yellow Brick Road, guiding me to what feels like Oz, a bar in all its gloriousness with no lines in site. Inside the darkened room, the sounds of the casino fade away as current hits play overhead. Still on a mission for a cocktail, I step up to the bar and wait.

  The Resistance is available now!

  Always interested in the arts, S. L. Scott, grew up painting, writing poetry and short stories, and wiling her days away lost in a good book and the movies.

  With a degree in Journalism, she continued her love of the written word by reading American authors like Salinger and Fitzgerald. She was intrigued by their flawed characters living in picture perfect worlds, but could still debate that the worlds those characters lived in were actually the flawed ones. This dynamic of leaving the reader invested in the words, inspired Scott to start writing with emotion while interjecting an underlying passion into her own stories.

  Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She’s obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. She dreams of seeing one of her own books made into a movie one day as well as returning to Europe. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she’s a pro.

  Scott welcomes your notes to mailto:sl@slscottauthor.com