Phantom
Itwasarestlessplace to be. A sleepless city, ready to squash my hopes and put to rest the life I had fantasized about as a young child.
This was my last shot. The hands on the clock were spinning. Desperation clawed at me, tearing me apart from the inside out.
After Years of blood, sweat, and tears, what did I have to show for it? Disappointment and continued anonymity.
This audition was my last chance to stay in the city. If it didn’t pan out, then I would remain in the shadows, nameless and unrecognized forever.
A phantom, merely passing through Broadway.
If It Walks Like A Duck And Quacks Like A Duck
Eve
Couldthisdaygetany worse?
I slammed the cab door and rushed down the busy sidewalk. The restaurant was only a few blocks away and traffic was at a standstill.
Fuck New York City traffic.
The watch on my wrist told me I was almost twenty minutes late for my dinner with Ben. The text message on my phone indicated he had been there waiting for at least ten of those minutes and that he would leave if I wasn’t in the chair across from him in five.
Pendejo.
I was sweaty and frazzled and my makeup was probably smudged, but I made it to the table with a minute to spare. My ass plopped into the seat across from him as I met his narrowed gaze.
“It’s not my fault,” I immediately defended myself.
“Were you held hostage?” he quipped.
“No, but the subway line is under construction. I had to take a cab.” I gave him a pleading look.
“You probably should have left earlier then,” he retorted. A smirk played on his lips. Damn him and that stupid cocky look. I straightened my spine.
This man was infuriating.
“Quiero estrangularte con mis propias manos, pinche pendejo,”I whispered dangerously across the table. Both of his eyebrow rose to his hairline, and he rolled his lips together to hide his amusement. “Screw you, O’Connor. I said I was sorry.”
“First of all”—he took a swig of his beer—“you never apologized for being late.”
“I...” I quickly replayed our conversation in my head. Hm. Maybe he was right. I hadn’t actually apologized.
Damn him.
“Well, I am.”
“You are what, Eve? Use your words,” he taunted, like he was chastising a four-year-old, throwing a tantrum.
I tried and failed to smother the impulse to roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said through clenched teeth.
“There. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” His lips broke into his devilish grin. The same grin that made every woman and about half the men melt on the spot. But I’d be damned if I’d let him turn me into a puddle on the floor of my favorite Mexican restaurant with nothing more than a smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Not today, Satan. Not. Today.
He ignored the daggers I was glaring his way. “Second of all, I know you called me an asshole, but I didn’t catch the rest of what you said. Something about hands? If I’m being insulted, I like to understand what’s being said.”
