Day 5- A draft of something
by Rebecca Davis
Today I thought I’d share a piece of the novel I’ve been working on. There are f-bombs and I’ve done the usual masquerade there. Two more days to go.
“This f*^%$^ piece of shit.” Eliza flipped the lever from silk to wool to silk again, touching cold metal of the sole plate and then looked down and saw the iron’s plug on the floor, spiderwebs connecting it to the wall. “Jesus.” She wiped it off on her bathrobe, plugged the iron in and went to pour herself a second cup of coffee. She picked up the pizza box from where she tossed it the night before and put it in the trash, bagged the whole thing up and set it outside her door, checking to make sure it wasn’t dripping Evie, her next door neighbor, waved at her as she headed down the stairs , headphones in and Eliza waved back. Just as well that they didn’t talk, she thought taking a sip, me in my bathrobe, almost flashing part of my huge nipple. What would it be like to have Evie’s no doubt small and perfect nipples? Heading back to her bedroom to check the iron, she muttered, “F*#$%^ Tory Burch lookalike.”
After pressing some life back into a pair of black trousers that really should have gone to the dry cleaners two wearings ago, Eliza pulled on a blue tunic that pooled at her back which she then had to pull at all day long. There weren’t that many options, though. Her sister, Georgia, wouldn’t have this problem. She called her. On the fourth ring, she answered panicked and groggy at the same time, “What’s wrong, are you OK?”
“I’m fine, why do you ask? How do you figure out getting dressed every morning?”
“Liza, it’s 8:30 AM, you know it’s the first week of summer vacation. We’re all sleeping in.”
“I don’t have kids, how would I know that?”
“I updated my status on Facebook.”
“That’s not communication. Anyway, back to it – getting dressed.”
“It first requires shopping and in your case, maybe a diet and exercise plan.”
Eliza paused. “You’re right, definitely a mistake to call this early. Talk to you later.”
Eliza hung up and went to look at her jewelry box, pulled out a necklace with a large E pendant and put it on. The coffee cup went in the sink with the rest of the dishes, she put her laptop in her messenger bag, and left, locking the door behind her and taking the trash with her.
The line at JayBees Coffee and Gluten was mercifully short which meant Eliza was late. If she’d gotten here at 7:45, at least ten people would have been waiting on Jonas and his sister Bea. Jonas, laughing with a black suited skinny spider of a man, gave her a quick nod. Eliza looked around and saw the art work had changed again. Pedestrian stuff, she thought, insipid landscapes of the Manhattan skyline viewed from the Promenade. Another of Jonas’s girlfriends perhaps.
“Hey, Liza Jane. How many cups at home this morning?” Jonas gave her a peck on the cheek across the counter.
“Just two. How many customers have you kissed this morning?”
“Only you, darling, only you. Small latte then?”
“No, Americano, two shots. Has Josh been and gone?”
“Hours ago, shame on you.”
“How did he seem? Did he get a scone?”
Bea called out from the back, “Chocolate chunk scone, sorry Eliza.”
Eliza sighed. “One for me, too, then.” The office was two doors down and three floors up, she’d have time to get it all down before she got to her desk.
Bea came out front, drying her hands on a towel draped over the tie on her apron. “I thought you weren’t doing refined anything. Aren’t we supposed to stop you from buying scones? Which is idiotic to me, but you did ask us.”
“Just put one in a bag, Bea. My sister was mean to me this morning and now Josh at the office before 10 AM. Refined everything, please.”
Jonas put her coffee on the counter. “What do you think of the paintings? Be honest.”
Bea shook her head, grimacing and set the scone next to the coffee.
“Are you dating her?” Eliza asked.
“How do know it’s a her?
“It’s always a her.”
“They’re vapid and predictable. What do you think of them?”
“I hate them. Ramona, however, is a cross between Reese Witherspoon and Eva Mendes.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense. Is she age appropriate?”
“I’m 35, there is a wide range of age appropriate.”
Eliza waited, cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.
“Jesus Christ, Jonas.”
Shaking his head, “I know. I know.”
Bea punched him on the shoulder, “I said the same thing to you and you blew me off. Jerk.”
“One day you’ll wise up and date an actual woman. I’ll likely be dead or in a home but I still have hope. OK, gotta go and face Mr. Pell. Do I owe you anything or am I still running a credit?”
Jonas pulled out a hardbound ledger book and flipped a couple of pages in. “Nope, twelve more dollars or thereabouts after today. On your way, eat fast, don’t forget to wipe the crumbs off.”