While I waited for my boyfriend Simon to join me and Talia at the restaurant, I spotted one of the very last people I ever wanted to see.
“Oh no,” I groaned, ducking my head. “It’s Vincent Malone!”
“Who?” Talia whirling around.
“For god sakes, Tal, don’t look.”
“Sorry!”
“It’s my dad’s business partner. I can’t stand him. He’s so condescending. And lecherous. He likes to tell you why you’re wrong about pretty much everything while staring straight at your boobs.”
“Oh, yuck. Just ignore him.”
“I’m trying!”
I disliked talking to Vincent Malone at the best of times. But now, half way buzzed and starving, I might lose my mind and tell him what I actually thought of him, which of course wasn’t anything nice.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom!” I staged whispered to Talia. “Come and get me when he’s gone.”
She grabbed my wrist.
“Wait, he’s sitting down. What if he’s here all evening?”
“Then bring me some breadsticks!”
Thankfully Simon’s hulking form emerged from around the corner. He sank down in the seat in front of me, completely blocking me from view of the rest of the restaurant.
The food eventually arrived. It was absolutely to die for - honey roasted lamb with baked apples and fennel. I ate more than my fair share to try to mop up some of the alcohol.
“Just one more drink!” Talia said when we finished eating and I made to get the check.
“Oh no. I’ve had more than enough tonight.” Besides, I wanted to get a good night’s sleep so I’d be prepared for my meeting with Trenton tomorrow. For some reason I didn’t want to say anything about it in front of Simon.
I was so distracted by thoughts of Trenton) that I had completely forgotten about slimy Vincent Malone. When I went to get our coats, he caught me by the elbow and I actually shrieked in surprise.
“Pleasure to see you here, Cara.”
He had a manner of saying things in a way that made you think he’d rather say something much, much dirtier. Like, “pleasure to see you here, Cara, I think about you naked all the time”.
“Hi Vincent,” I said flatly. I hoped the coat check attendant would be quick. “How are you?”
“I’m well. I was thinking about you today, actually.”
I shuddered imperceptibly.
“Your father tells me you’re starting a business. I would like to discuss it with you. It would be a shame for you to make the same mistakes as so many other recent graduates.”
Whatever goodwill I’d felt toward my dad earlier in the day for getting me in contact with Trenton melted away. The last thing I wanted to do was have a heart to heart with Vincent about why I was too stupid to run my own business.
“Sure,” I lied. “I’d like that. Let me call you and we’ll set something up.”
I didn’t have his phone number, of course. Before he could offer it, I grabbed my coat and, with a cursory smile, bolted out the door.
When Simon and I got back to my place the day began to catch up with me. I was exhausted.
Tomorrow, I told myself for the umpteenth time. I`ll break it off with him tomorrow.
As we lay on the couch with poor Simon dutifully rubbing my feet, I tried to mentally prepare myself for my meeting with Trenton. Maybe he would be interested in being a full partner. Maybe we could work together in a cozy office downtown, just the two of us. As a tenured professor, he’d probably be too busy for that. Unless there was something I could do to convince him…
About Me
- Laura
- I don't much care for human nature unless it's all candied over with art.
8/22/2014
Fiction - As Yet Untitled Romance Series - Part 2
Part 2
“Cara Ambrose!”
When the Dean called my name I skipped across the stage to collect my diploma. Because I’m close to the start of the alphabet the applause was still fairly strong – people hadn’t yet begun to wilt with the wait.
Sitting back down in the audience I waited for my best friend Talia’s name to be called while daydreaming about my upcoming meeting with Professo- oops, I mean, Trenton. Not only did being near him give me goose bumps and make me breathe a little heavier, his expertise really would be invaluable.
It was SO important to get this business off the ground as soon as possible. I couldn’t rely on my parents to pay my rent and buy me clothes and food forever. Well, technically I could, but I didn’t labor through an MBA at Harvard just end up a layabout.
When Talia finally crossed the stage I crept from my seat and away from the rest of the graduates. I made my way to the back of the field where she and I had arranged to meet, hoping I wouldn’t be spotted by boyfriend Simon.
“We did it!” Talia shouted when she joined me.
“Should we stay until the end?” I asked, giving her a big hug. “Throw our caps and all that?”
“Nah,” she said. “I’m starving. And my god do I want a drink.”
“Okay. But let’s go before Simon finds us.”
She shot me A Look.
“Are you ever going to break up with him Cara? It’s getting pretty silly at this point.”
“Yes, yes. Just…not today.”
“You said you were waiting until graduation.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it the very second I graduate.”
Simon wasn’t a bad guy. Far from it, actually. He was nice enough and more than dedicated to me. I should be happy to marry him. The only problem was he was boring as anything. He liked sports, studying and working out and that was it. Òur parents were old friends and they’d set us up on a blind date two years ago. He’d just kind of stuck around after that.
The sex was good though. I’d give him that.
“So we’re just going to ditch him?” Talia asked.
“Ugh, no, I guess not.” I may not be in love with my boyfriend but that was no reason to be mean.
I got him on the phone and told him to meet us at Mistral Bistro, an upscale restaurant nearby.
When Talia and I got there she immediately ordered us two stiff drinks. I tried to drink mine slowly. At 5’2” and 110 lbs it didn’t take a lot to get me drunk and I didn’t relish the thought of passing out at the table before we’d even eaten.
“So how are you going to break it off with Simon?” she asked, ever the gossip.
I didn’t know. As we waited for him to arrive, I tried to think of a way I could do it without hurting his feelings too much. It didn’t seem possible. Maybe I should just stay with him forever, then. Get married, have a bunch of babies and watch a lot of sports before I died. That didn’t seem very appealing, either. This was going to be tough.
“Cara Ambrose!”
When the Dean called my name I skipped across the stage to collect my diploma. Because I’m close to the start of the alphabet the applause was still fairly strong – people hadn’t yet begun to wilt with the wait.
Sitting back down in the audience I waited for my best friend Talia’s name to be called while daydreaming about my upcoming meeting with Professo- oops, I mean, Trenton. Not only did being near him give me goose bumps and make me breathe a little heavier, his expertise really would be invaluable.
It was SO important to get this business off the ground as soon as possible. I couldn’t rely on my parents to pay my rent and buy me clothes and food forever. Well, technically I could, but I didn’t labor through an MBA at Harvard just end up a layabout.
When Talia finally crossed the stage I crept from my seat and away from the rest of the graduates. I made my way to the back of the field where she and I had arranged to meet, hoping I wouldn’t be spotted by boyfriend Simon.
“We did it!” Talia shouted when she joined me.
“Should we stay until the end?” I asked, giving her a big hug. “Throw our caps and all that?”
“Nah,” she said. “I’m starving. And my god do I want a drink.”
“Okay. But let’s go before Simon finds us.”
She shot me A Look.
“Are you ever going to break up with him Cara? It’s getting pretty silly at this point.”
“Yes, yes. Just…not today.”
“You said you were waiting until graduation.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it the very second I graduate.”
Simon wasn’t a bad guy. Far from it, actually. He was nice enough and more than dedicated to me. I should be happy to marry him. The only problem was he was boring as anything. He liked sports, studying and working out and that was it. Òur parents were old friends and they’d set us up on a blind date two years ago. He’d just kind of stuck around after that.
The sex was good though. I’d give him that.
“So we’re just going to ditch him?” Talia asked.
“Ugh, no, I guess not.” I may not be in love with my boyfriend but that was no reason to be mean.
I got him on the phone and told him to meet us at Mistral Bistro, an upscale restaurant nearby.
When Talia and I got there she immediately ordered us two stiff drinks. I tried to drink mine slowly. At 5’2” and 110 lbs it didn’t take a lot to get me drunk and I didn’t relish the thought of passing out at the table before we’d even eaten.
“So how are you going to break it off with Simon?” she asked, ever the gossip.
I didn’t know. As we waited for him to arrive, I tried to think of a way I could do it without hurting his feelings too much. It didn’t seem possible. Maybe I should just stay with him forever, then. Get married, have a bunch of babies and watch a lot of sports before I died. That didn’t seem very appealing, either. This was going to be tough.
Fiction - As Yet Untitled Romance Series - Part 1
These pieces were written as a submission for Cosmopolitan magazine's Bedroom Blog (which is possibly now defunct? I can't seem to find the master URL for the series). I didn't get the gig but this was surprisingly fun to write. It was interesting to try out a new, much lighter and more carefree style. People criticize romance but honestly, I find it freeing to write. I mean, it's a little silly, but isn't that the point?
I'd like to keep adding to this story, maybe as a weekly ongoing series.
Enjoy!
PART 1
“So is dad coming or what?”
My mom was turned away from me, her cellphone hidden beneath her perfectly coiffed, ever-shining blonde hair.
“Mom? Hello?”
She turned and held up a slim finger. Her ice blue eyes, so exactly like mine, were crinkled in concentration.
I looked around. Students in their black and red graduation robes were still milling around, chatting with each other and with their families. Fixing my own robe at the collar, I tapped my foot impatiently, my pedicured toenails flashing in the sun.
“He can’t make it,” my mom said finally, hanging up the phone.
As usual, I kept my face impassive, swallowing my disappointment. If I said anything, she would have lectured me on how it was enough that he paid for my education and he had only been able to do so by working as much as he did.
But seriously! What parent doesn't make the time to come to their only child’s graduation from Harvard business school?
“Fine,” I said, then repeated it in a more cheerful voice. “I think we have to line up now anyway so…”
But my mom was already back on the phone, probably talking to a client.
I mimed at her that I was leaving and she nodded at me distractedly.
As I waited with the rest of my classmates I tried to remind myself that I deserved to enjoy this day, regardless of whether my parents were excited for me. I’d worked hard for this degree, dammit!
My mood took a big upswing when I spotted Professor Trenton Chambers. One of the youngest people to ever be tenured at Harvard Business School, at 30 he was not only brilliant but tanned and fit with a bright white smile he flashed easily.
I’m sure I wasn’t his only student who often thought about sleeping with him.
I realized a second too late that I was staring. To my surprise he came sauntering over when he caught my eye.
“Cara! Congrats on your big day!”
“Thanks, thanks,” I stammered, feeling a flush start to creep up my cheekbones.
“Listen, I was speaking with your dad the other day. He told me about the business you’re getting off the ground. It sounds really interesting. You know that it’s exactly in my area of expertise, right?”
Of course I did. That’s what’s inspired me to look into it.
“Why don’t we sit down together?” he went on. “I love working with start-ups. Maybe we can exchange some ideas.”
“Um, yes. I would love it. I mean, yes, ideas. I love ideas.”
Oh Cara, I thought. Stop blushing like a school girl. You’re a professional business woman now.
I squared my shoulders with confidence and looked at him straight in the eye. They were hazel, with lovely, dark lashes and…
“…give me your number,” he was saying. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“One thousand percent!” I said like a complete dork.
“Great. I’ll call you in the morning to set up a time.”
“Thanks, Professor Chambers.”
He laughed. “You’re graduating now, Cara. You can call me Trenton.”
We smiled at each other. Was it my imagination or did he hesitate before walking away? Maybe he enjoyed talking to me as much I did talking to him.
Waiting to go onstage to receive my degree, I no longer minded at all that my dad wasn’t in the audience to see me graduate. He’d helped set up a meeting with Trenton Chambers! That more than made up for his absence.
I'd like to keep adding to this story, maybe as a weekly ongoing series.
Enjoy!
PART 1
“So is dad coming or what?”
My mom was turned away from me, her cellphone hidden beneath her perfectly coiffed, ever-shining blonde hair.
“Mom? Hello?”
She turned and held up a slim finger. Her ice blue eyes, so exactly like mine, were crinkled in concentration.
I looked around. Students in their black and red graduation robes were still milling around, chatting with each other and with their families. Fixing my own robe at the collar, I tapped my foot impatiently, my pedicured toenails flashing in the sun.
“He can’t make it,” my mom said finally, hanging up the phone.
As usual, I kept my face impassive, swallowing my disappointment. If I said anything, she would have lectured me on how it was enough that he paid for my education and he had only been able to do so by working as much as he did.
But seriously! What parent doesn't make the time to come to their only child’s graduation from Harvard business school?
“Fine,” I said, then repeated it in a more cheerful voice. “I think we have to line up now anyway so…”
But my mom was already back on the phone, probably talking to a client.
I mimed at her that I was leaving and she nodded at me distractedly.
As I waited with the rest of my classmates I tried to remind myself that I deserved to enjoy this day, regardless of whether my parents were excited for me. I’d worked hard for this degree, dammit!
My mood took a big upswing when I spotted Professor Trenton Chambers. One of the youngest people to ever be tenured at Harvard Business School, at 30 he was not only brilliant but tanned and fit with a bright white smile he flashed easily.
I’m sure I wasn’t his only student who often thought about sleeping with him.
I realized a second too late that I was staring. To my surprise he came sauntering over when he caught my eye.
“Cara! Congrats on your big day!”
“Thanks, thanks,” I stammered, feeling a flush start to creep up my cheekbones.
“Listen, I was speaking with your dad the other day. He told me about the business you’re getting off the ground. It sounds really interesting. You know that it’s exactly in my area of expertise, right?”
Of course I did. That’s what’s inspired me to look into it.
“Why don’t we sit down together?” he went on. “I love working with start-ups. Maybe we can exchange some ideas.”
“Um, yes. I would love it. I mean, yes, ideas. I love ideas.”
Oh Cara, I thought. Stop blushing like a school girl. You’re a professional business woman now.
I squared my shoulders with confidence and looked at him straight in the eye. They were hazel, with lovely, dark lashes and…
“…give me your number,” he was saying. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“One thousand percent!” I said like a complete dork.
“Great. I’ll call you in the morning to set up a time.”
“Thanks, Professor Chambers.”
He laughed. “You’re graduating now, Cara. You can call me Trenton.”
We smiled at each other. Was it my imagination or did he hesitate before walking away? Maybe he enjoyed talking to me as much I did talking to him.
Waiting to go onstage to receive my degree, I no longer minded at all that my dad wasn’t in the audience to see me graduate. He’d helped set up a meeting with Trenton Chambers! That more than made up for his absence.
8/12/2014
Where I Write
I'm trying to figure out if this is too many places:
1. Twitter, for bon mots.
2. Facebook, for photos family might like to see, and the occasionally spat re: politics.
3. Tumblr. I should barely count this because the most I'll ever write is a sentence or two praising some half-naked cosplayer. Otherwise I don't interact much with others and almost never make my own posts, except when it's to bitch about something that happened involving someone on my Twitter/FB/Internet Forum that isn't worth putting into my diary but those I usually delete after five minutes anyway because talking behind people's backs makes me feel bad.
Otherwise Tumblr is mostly a repository for articles and commentary on feminism and other social activism and pictures of things I might like to purchase on Etsy. This is still fun and good.
4. An Internet Forum That will Not Be Named. This is where I put personal silliness.
5. Big black hardcover book of half finished stories and doodles done in the bath (cover is waterproof).
6. Diary, for the very personal silliness.
7. Book of letters to my unborn son (awwww, valedictorian of prepping for baby).
8. Here?
9. Spiral bound notebook for current stories, kept in purse.
10. Massive binder of unfinished stories on loose leaf. Occasionally rifled through, rarely added to.
11. 'Writing' folder on my laptop. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.
12. Notepad. Mostly for lists, budgets, rough drafts of internet comments etc.
Will soon be adding 13. Baby book
Would I write more effectively if this was streamlined?
1. Twitter, for bon mots.
2. Facebook, for photos family might like to see, and the occasionally spat re: politics.
3. Tumblr. I should barely count this because the most I'll ever write is a sentence or two praising some half-naked cosplayer. Otherwise I don't interact much with others and almost never make my own posts, except when it's to bitch about something that happened involving someone on my Twitter/FB/Internet Forum that isn't worth putting into my diary but those I usually delete after five minutes anyway because talking behind people's backs makes me feel bad.
Otherwise Tumblr is mostly a repository for articles and commentary on feminism and other social activism and pictures of things I might like to purchase on Etsy. This is still fun and good.
4. An Internet Forum That will Not Be Named. This is where I put personal silliness.
5. Big black hardcover book of half finished stories and doodles done in the bath (cover is waterproof).
6. Diary, for the very personal silliness.
7. Book of letters to my unborn son (awwww, valedictorian of prepping for baby).
8. Here?
9. Spiral bound notebook for current stories, kept in purse.
10. Massive binder of unfinished stories on loose leaf. Occasionally rifled through, rarely added to.
11. 'Writing' folder on my laptop. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.
12. Notepad. Mostly for lists, budgets, rough drafts of internet comments etc.
Will soon be adding 13. Baby book
Would I write more effectively if this was streamlined?
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