Ditching The Dream (Dream Series)

by Isabelle Peterson

  “Thanks for all your help, Sarah. You’ve been a doll! I’ll see you on Friday for the keys, then?”

  “We’ll meet at the building, eight in the morning,” she assured me with a bright smile.

  I grabbed a slice of thin crust pizza and a soda on my walk to the hotel, battling for space every inch of the way. Rush hour was no picnic, that’s for sure.

  On my walk back to the hotel, I passed an H&M Department Store. I stopped to pick up a few black slacks and shirts so I wouldn’t have to do laundry every other day. Then I stopped at a shoe store and bought a good pair for work.

  Back at the Hyatt, I tried to make it an early night, but I was bothered by all of Greg’s voicemails and texts. I know, I should be. I had left. Without warning. Without much explanation. I didn’t even have the courage to talk to him about how I was feeling face-to-face. Or with a therapist.

  I had so much I wanted to talk about, but really no one to talk to. Jess wouldn’t be around. It was Wednesday night. Book Club night. It was Michelle’s week to host. Undoubtedly, they would all drinking up a storm and talking about anything but the book. Would Jessica tell them where I was? She tended to get loose lips after a martini or two. Would the girls understand? Did I understand? No, I didn’t. It was the most impulsive thing I’d ever done. But, in my heart of hearts, I knew I was doing the right thing. I think.

  I tried not to stare. In Texas it was almost expected, but I’d never subscribed to that principle. Abuela wouldn’t have stood for it. But there I was gawking. I know I did, and I hope she didn’t see me. Sometimes, however, there are things that are so beautiful that demand attention and she was one of them. Her neck, her smile, her eyes… I wondered who she was here to visit.

  I admit, I was a little ashamed that I’d been so smitten right from first sight. I’d always prided myself on being drawn to people for who they were, not what they looked like. But she radiated beauty from within, not just on the outside. I loved observing how she carried herself — confident, but not boastful. She was shy, yet strong. I admired how she was cautious, however there was a clear sense of adventure in the way she stood.

  I stopped near Dominic’s stand to re-tie my shoe. I know, a juvenile move, one my middle school students might use, but hey, it seemed effective at the moment. Carefully eavesdropping, I overheard her asking questions that that sounded like she would be moving in.

  Oh I hope she’s looking at the apartment on the sixth floor, I thought as I stood and headed for the elevator. Safely inside the car, I was relieved at the opportunity to adjust my jeans. I wanted to look back, but I didn’t want to look like some sort of creeper. But heck, she was beautiful. Her sassy hair, her fair skin. Elegantly tall. Dominic would never tell, but I’d have to see if I could pull some information from him.

  CHAPTER 5

  Thursday morning, I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn’t even think of eating. I put on the clothes I’d laid out the night before. I almost styled my hair into the spiky way that Bobbie had suggested, but thought better of it and went with the style she’d crafted that got me the job. I tucked the file folder, with the W-2 and personal info sheets, and headed to work. I felt on top of the world. My first day of work in more than twenty years!

  I arrived at Ed Scott’s twenty-five minutes early. I started to feel the ill effects of skipping out on my morning cup of coffee so I stopped into the coffee shop just next door. I took my place in the line, which was six people deep. I kept my eye on my watch, as the line wasn’t moving. I was surprised that the customers in front of me were so calm, but they all just stood there busy with their smart phones. At this rate I’d be late to work, and I was only next door.

  I craned my neck to see what the holdup was and saw him — Mr. Devastatingly Handsome from the bar the other day. He handed the girl at the register his business card. Was he flirting with her? She was a very pretty girl, but couldn’t have been more than nineteen. And from the looks of it, he had to be in his…early fifties? Shameless.

  He turned with his coffee in hand, and I ducked my head and scratched around in my purse, searching for my phone in hopes that he wouldn’t see me again. I wasn’t sure I could handle his eyes at this hour… this close… and without coffee. It was tough enough in the afternoon… from across a whole room… and after a glass of wine.

  Suddenly, I felt him standing there. I froze. He cleared his throat. Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up.

  “Excuse me,” a rich voice spoke. I didn’t have a choice at that moment. I had to look. Not just because I’d been spoken to, but something in that voice, in how the words were said, left me no other option.

  I lifted my head and peered up, and I had to look up, as he was a good half a foot taller than me. For a woman who was five-foot-ten, I was often nearly eye-to-eye with men, including Greg. And sometimes I had to look down. A crooked grin stretched across his face, and his dark-brown eyes twinkled. I believe I stopped breathing. I must have because he said, “Breathe.”

  I took in a quick breath and pushed out a small, “Hi.” My cheeks grew hot. My knees trembled. I felt my heart slam against the front of my chest. I wanted to crawl inside my purse. Why was this guy, this stranger, talking to me? Why did he affect me this way? And why did he seem so damn familiar?

  “Twice in one week. I’m a lucky guy. Hope I see you again,” he winked at me, then backed out of the coffee shop, his chocolate brown eyes never leaving mine. Once he was fully out the door, I looked around me expecting to see everyone stare at what just happened. But no one was looking. No one seemed to notice or care. Only one person behind me annoyed that I’d not moved up in the line. I directed my attention back in front of me to realize the line had moved quite a bit. In fact, I was nearly next. I did my best to shake off that totally weird exchange with Mr. Gorgeous and form a coffee order.

  Five minutes later, I was standing behind the bar at Ed Scott’s, outfitted with an apron, a waiter’s corkscrew and key card for the computer. Then, Shelby toured the restaurant with me, explaining where all the stuff was and how to use the computers, including the iPad with an app to pull up any drink that could be ordered, especially the Ed Scott’s drink specialties.

  The most informative part of the tour was when she filled me in on the reason why one of the last bartenders, the one whom I was replacing, was fired. Apparently she had been caught having sex in the stockroom with the sous chef. Yeah, grounds for dismissal. She spoke very highly about the other bartender, Tom, who would be returning Monday from his honeymoon.

  Today I wouldn’t be doing too much, mostly just following her. But tomorrow I had to be on top of things because, for the most part I’d be on my own. The bar was quiet in comparison to the main part of the restaurant. The upside of the bar was that it was mostly appetizers, and drinks. And Shelby would be there if I had any questions.

  I was feeling overwhelmed when the servers all circled the bar for a staff meeting before the restaurant opened. My formal introduction was made, the specials were introduced, and a few other housekeeping things addressed before the doors were unlocked at eleven o’clock sharp.

  I was amazed that the restaurant was nearly at capacity within ten minutes. I shadowed Shelby absorbing everything I could, from how she handled the customers, to what kinds of drinks were most popular and so on. Shelby was a great mentor and put me to work straight out of the gate.

  It started to get quiet near three o’clock, the end of my first shift. And by “quiet,” I meant there were no longer people standing at the bar, but most of the chairs still had customers. Everyone had been served, they were just hanging out, or getting down to business meetings over files and laptops.

  Shelby and I started to chit chat, getting to know a bit about each other. I didn’t reveal much, just that I was from California, originally from Colorado, new to New York. She eyed the rings on my left hand, but didn’t push. She was just a couple years younger than me, single, and loved it. She had been tending bar since she was se
venteen, working at her dad’s pub in Brooklyn.

  “Hey, I have to go change the Sam Adams feed in the back. New customer just sat in seat four. His name is Jack, as if you didn’t know,” she laughed. “He’s an easy one, you’ll do just fine without me. Can you get him started? Then, you’re free to go,” she said as she ducked under the bar and headed to the back. Her confidence in me felt great, making me smile as I turned to serve the new customer.

  All sense of ease and confidence was suddenly erased as I saw him sitting there, alone this time, a smug expression on his perfect face.

  Shit! Seriously?

  Did he know I would be here? And who in the hell was he??? I really, truly felt like I should know him. But, if I’d known a guy who looked like that, I was pretty sure I’d remember him, as a married woman or not. I was married, not dead. Shelby said his name was Jack. And what did Shelby mean, ‘as if you didn’t know’?

  I took a deep breath, put on as good a smile as I could muster, and made my way to his seat. As I neared, I couldn’t help looking him over. His eyes were a deep, deep brown — like liquid chocolate, similar to mine, where you could hardly make out the pupil. He had a light tan on his well-cared for skin. His grey suit complemented his lightly salted dark hair. The jacket of his suit hugged his shoulders, and I imagined that he was a regular at his gym. When I was standing in front of him, I involuntarily inhaled. God he smelled good.

  “Good afternoon. What can I get you?” I opened, feigning confidence, and setting a beverage napkin at his place.

  “Third time’s the charm,” was his reply, complete with a lovely little smirk. His comment in the coffee shop rang through my head. “Twice in one week. Hope I see you again.”

  My heart was pounding so hard I was sure it was bruising itself, and I didn’t have a clue as to how to respond. Nervously, I reached for a menu and handed it to him.

  “I’ll just have a Macallan… eighteen… neat… for now.” I watched his perfect lips carefully form those last few words and found myself wishing I was part of the later.

  I could only nod. These were not the thoughts I should be having. I carefully backed away. I felt like I was prey and he the predator, yet the way he watched me made me feel like dessert, not meat.

  I started his ticket in the computer, then carefully pulled a glass, checked for spots and grabbed the bottle of scotch before heading back to seat four. I don’t know which made me more nervous, carrying an expensive bottle of scotch, or his gaze.

  With a trembling hand, I poured his drink and set the bottle down. He picked up the glass and gave a gentle sniff, then took a small sip, his eyes, somehow growing darkener, never leaving mine. Look away, Elizabeth… His tongue ran over the center of his upper lip, collecting the remains of his sip.

  His eyes continued to burn into mine, as if he would find an answer to an unspoken question. And like the other day when I first saw him, I just couldn’t look away from him. It was the most bizarre connection. Like he was looking into my soul.

  “You’re familiar. Have we met before?” he queried.

  “Well, there was the coffee shop this morning and I was seated right over there the other day,” I replied, waving my hand at the table where I had eaten lunch the day I was hired.

  “No, not then. You looked familiar then, too.” He chewed on his lip and shook his head. Om my god. That lip. I don’t know why the thought jumped into my mind but I suddenly felt very jealous of that lip. “It’ll come to me. It always does. I never forget a face. Especially one like yours.”

  I took a couple deep breaths, trying to regain my sensibilities. “I don’t know what to tell you,” I replied with a shrug. Would he believe my attempts at nonchalance?

  “Let me take you out after your shift and we’ll figure out how I know you.” He took in every bit of my face, studying me with the same intensity that he employed while I ate my salad the other day.

  I couldn’t go out with him. Panic started to wash over me. I wrung my hands together and felt my rings. I wiggled my left hand at him. “Married. Sorry.” There! That’ll do it.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” I asked. Was it that obvious that I’d left my husband? Well, not left-left, but still…

  “Plenty of women wear a pair of rings to keep men at bay,” he offered.

  “And why would I do that?” I pushed, narrowing my eyes at him. He was not going to best me.

  “You tell me,” he replied, calmly taking another sip of his Macallan.

  “How’s Elizabeth doing, Jack?” Shelby asked him as she sidled up to me, making me jump slightly. “Did I train her right?” I silently thanked her for interrupting the moment.

  “Perfect, Shel. She’s going to give you a run for your money,” he said with a sly smile and wink at me.

  “Thanks for getting him started, hon. Be sure to get your sleep. Friday’s are crazy! See you tomorrow,” she said warmly. I silently thanked her for getting me out from under his gaze. As Shelby and Jack chatted like old friends, I slid under the bar pass through, making my exit as quietly as possible.

  The hotel was about three miles and I was a bundle of nerves with time to spare, so I decided to walk. How could I let a guy I barely knew get to me like that? And I was married for crying out loud! Crazy that he thought the rings were fake. If he, if Jack, showed up again, and I had a sneaking suspicion he would, I’d have to make a point of showing off my rings again and making sure he knew I was married.

  I tried to push thoughts of Jack out of my mind and felt my phone vibrating in my purse. Hoping it was Jessica, I pulled it out and looked at the screen. No such luck. It was my mother. She would be more annoying than thoughts of Jack.

  I declined the call and stuck the phone back into my bag, decided to focus on my exciting day tomorrow. Since I was working double shifts tomorrow and Saturday, I did a little shopping for some staples I’d need for the apartment: towels and soap for the kitchen and bath, and stuff to make coffee. I was definitely not a fan of non-dairy creamer, but it would work, for the meantime anyway. Dishes came with the rental.

  Four stores and a couple arms full of bags later, I made my way back to the hotel. After I showered, I packed all of my things to ‘move out.’ Less than a week. That must be some kind of record. I made my way downstairs to arrange for my check out and chose to treat myself to dinner in the hotel’s restaurant.

  Over a nice Filet of Sole Picatta paired with a medium bodied chardonnay, and a different quiet from meals with Greg, I reflected on all that I’d accomplished in such a short period of time. I’d gotten a job. I’d found an apartment. I was making new friends. Now, I just had to keep it going, for a little while anyway—to know I could do this; really know I could be successful. And find my spark. To discover what made me feel alive. I thought about all of the opportunities in New York. Theatre, music and museums. I was looking forward to my Tuesdays off and made a note to myself to look into those.

  Back in my room for my final night in the hotel, I was just about to drift off to sleep when my phone started to ring. Again. It was Greg. Again. Why did this feel like Russian roulette? That any one of his calls would do me in. Why I wouldn’t answer his calls. I’d left for solid reasons. I needed to know I could stand on my own two feet. I hit “Decline,” rolled over and fought for sleep.

  As tired as I was, I couldn’t get him out of my head. But not Greg, It was Jack who consumed my thoughts. His eyes, his voice, his mouth, his tongue collecting that delicious scotch…

  I sat in my recliner in the family room, still in my pajamas. I called in sick for the past four days. I was sure my clients were ready to put a bullet in my head. Hell, I’d like to as well. Four days of no shaving, no showering, and minimal contact with the outside world.

  I looked around the living room: a Styrofoam box of eggplant parmesan, half eaten, and a bottle of wine, nearly empty. Eggplant parmesan was her favorite. The cleaning ladies would know something was up, even if they overl
ooked my appearance. My housekeeping skills were the pits. When do they come anyway? How much do we pay them? Was it cash or check the day of or did they bill us? Elizabeth would know.

  I read Elizabeth’s letter for the umpteen millionth time. Elizabeth had only been gone for four days, but it felt like four years. I picked up the phone and pressed re-dial.

  “You’ve reached Elizabeth. Please leave a message.” BEEP.

  “Elizabeth… Bets… Please. Call me. We need to talk.” I pressed the “End” button, and once again, read through her letter. There was actually no point in reading it. I had it memorized.

  Draining the last of the wine into my glass, picked it up and walked over to Elizabeth’s chair, where her unfinished crochet project sat in the basket to the side. I settled in her chair. It was small for me, but it felt like her. It smelled like her.

  I absentmindedly turned on CNN and waited for other problems in the world to make my problem seem small. It didn’t work. Wars, hostage situations, financial crises seem pale in comparison to the ache in my heart. My eyes blurred with tears, but I didn’t even bother to brush them away anymore. There’s no reason. Another tear would replace it shortly.

  What did I do? What can I do? Why was this happening?

  This would be the fourth night in a row that I’d fallen asleep in her chair.

  CHAPTER 6

  Friday morning I met up with Sarah at my new address, as arranged. I got my keys to my place, for the next couple of months anyway, and reintroduced myself to Dominic. He told me about the rooftop patio and that he was sorry it was still being painted, but that it should be available tomorrow. He reminded me of all the services that he and the other doorman, Gilbert, a part-timer, were there to help me with. He gave me a resident folder with building phone numbers, several takeout menus from local restaurants, and things to do in the area, as well as a couple of maps. I went up to get settled in my home on the sixth floor, even if I had just forty-five minutes before I had to leave for work. I unpacked my clothes and hung my new towels. It felt like when I moved into the dorms in college. A fresh new start. Like I could conquer the world.