Untitled Fiction – Chapter 4

. . . previous


Sharon was excited at the prospect of maybe he was the one, and for now that would be enough. She left the salon, walked around to the back parking lot, pressed her code into the keypad on the car door. She opened the door and soon was on her way home to find something to wear. Sharon wanted to look a lot better than she did in the salon and hoped he would forget about her first impression. Without enough time to buy something new, she did not remember if an appropriate outfit was clean in her closet because she stopped at the cleaners before the hair salon to drop off a huge laundry bag.


Entering the freeway lane, Sharon pressed the radio button and heard…”We goin’ ridin’ on the freeway of love in a pink Cadillac.” Aretha Franklin. Perhaps this song was a good sign. She laughed aloud and pressed the automatic button lowering the window to feel the spring breeze on her face, but not enough to muss her freshly, coiffed hairdo.


The Café Noir was on Woodward Avenue, and to the north, so he walked home to get ready. Noir was the kind of place you didn’t want to go without looking crisp. William would never be mistaken for having a fashion conscience, but he was always halfway decently dressed. He hoped Sharon didn’t spend her 3 hours getting made up, a definite deal breaker. After selecting a playlist entitled “Getting Ready,” he decided on a soothing bath instead of a shower, and filled the tub with just before scalding hot water. So get ready, cause here I come.


Lying in the tub with the good hot water up to his neck, William thought about the possibility of this woman not showing up. That would be wrong.

She said she would be there. I believe you should do what you say you’re going to do, or shut the fuck up! He decided she would show up to know more about a guy who could walk into a beauty shop and call a woman out as he did. The hot water that drifted him off to sleep was now barely tepid, and William was shocked to see the time. He had fifteen minutes to get to Café Noir.


. . . next

You may also like