Thanks for the unpredicted yet enjoyable night, gorgeous!
- Sloan
Sloan who? She asked herself, holding the piece of paper in her hand and wearing a perplexed look on her face. Quickly an essence of fear and apprehension crawled into her skin and took over her body; her eyes widened and her mouth opened. She realised very slowly that there was a man, a stranger, in her home, her sanctuary where she brought no one. Someone had indeed penetrated her fortress of solitude, and she had absolutely no memory of it. Breathing through her nose, she decided to slowly pivot on her heels, which only added to her dizziness, and go look around to see if anything was missing. To her relief, everything was where it was supposed to be as she did the tour of the apartment scrupulously, however scrupulous a hung over person can be. The little piece of paper slipped out and landed on the floor as she grabbed her throbbing head with both hands when a thought crossed her mind: had she slept with him?
Ashleigh made her way to the bed with difficulty; her legs were moving is opposite directions and her swollen eyelids prevented her from seeing the sharp corners of desk and tables on her way there. She got there, finally, on her knees, searching for evidence of the night of so called passion she failed to recall, in other words she was looking for condoms. Zilch, nada, there was absolutely nothing to find. Now the thought donned upon her; she had sex, unprotected sex with a complete stranger.
Something inside her churned.
There she was, naked on the floor, trying dreadfully to remember, when she looked up and noticed the time on the table-clock. It was 10 o’clock and she was late, for the first time no less. Shit, shit, shit, she said to herself as she crawled her way to the bathroom. As soon as the water hit her face she felt a little less sick, the sound of the water hitting the floor and her body covered the hammering noise in her head. She leaned against the shower wall, just in case her legs decided to betray her and make her ass pay a visit to the floor. No, like anyone, she did not need and definitely did not want that. After a good fifteen minutes of getting the smell of beer and strong alcohol off her body, she did her best to quickly get dressed and shot herself out the door, grabbing her saviour of the day, her goggles.
When she got to the front door, she saw the cab outside, waiting. As she wobbled her way to the yellow car, the sunlight stung her eyes even through the Dior shades, making her squint and come very close to tripping, in public.
She stepped into the car only to hear the cabbie yell at her for making him wait a whole half hour. He went about how her company thinks they own the cabs of Manhattan and she should stick to her company car next time. She was shocked and insanely annoyed (usually it would have been from the cabbie speaking to her at all, but this time it was because the cabbie’s voice was drilling into her eardrums) and she wanted the shouting to stop. When the driver refused to move, accusing her of having no notion of time and commitment, all Ashleigh could think about was the number of people stopping outside the car to assist to the ruckus.
Embarrassed, she sighed and finally uttered the words she never thought she would have to say, out loud at least: she apologised. And zoom went the cab.
As she stepped into the building, running away from the loud cab driver, she watched the staff on the ground floor stare back at her through her goggles. She immediately cleared her throat and everyone got right back to work, just like every other day.
Waiting by the elevator, Ashleigh saw the time again; she was a whole two hours late. Right when the clock on the wall started to double, the elevator hit the ground floor. She blinked a couple of times and got into the lift, her head still spinning. The trip from ground floor to her office floor didn’t help her predicament either, in fact she even considered throwing up. But no, that’s just wrong, and even in this state, she at least had that much sense!
Once she was on her floor, she gave her coat to Elaine and asked her to meet her in her office pronto. She left her goggles on, too scared to let people see what lied behind the shades. When Elaine stepped into the room, she was quite agitated, as if she could sense something wrong with her boss.
- Elaine, before you start blasting me with all the missed calls from this morning, I have a very important job for you. I expect you to give this top priority. I need you to find someone for me.
As the last few words left her mouth, Ashleigh had slight glimpses of firm arms holding
her waist. She cleared her voice; it had evolved from the trucker voice of the morning to that of normal sore throat.
- Actually, find me all the men in Manhattan between the ages of 20 to 40, named Sloan.
She looked at her assistant, the poor woman was confused to say the least, but she didn’t quite understand what was being asked of her. With her jaws relatively dropped, Elaine tried to reprocess what was said. Ashleigh saw the hesitation on Elaine’s face and tapped her fingertips on the desk, annoyed.
- Do you want me to write it down for you, Elaine?
The young woman shook her head and left to get the job done. Ashleigh then took out her mirror from her drawer and sighed as she put in down on the desk. It’s time to face the music she said to herself. She slowly removed the goggles and stared at herself in the mirror. Gasp! The puffiness of her eyes had taken a life form of its own. Lightly pressing the inflated skin around her eyes with her fingertip, Ashleigh groaned and sighed some more. Then she pulled out her concealer and patted it on the contours of her sea blues to salvage the idea of perfection she regularly emanated.
Once the beauty was restored, she knew she had one very important thing left to do before she could find some sort of peace of mind. She picked up the phone and dialled her gynaecologist’s number and booked an appointment immediately.
Two knocks on the door later:
- Uhm, Miss Slayton, I was just wondering if you wanted the list on hard copy or via email..
- Elaine! Just get me the list, I really, REALLY , don’t need to hear your squeaky voice right now, Ashleigh barked back.
- Hard copy it is! Said Elaine nervously trying to pop her head back out of the door.
As Elaine promptly typed up the list of all 400+ Sloans living in Manhattan, of which 75 were living in her neighbourhood, with their vital information. Ashleigh was desperately trying to fight off the inevitable migraine by exerting a good amount of pressure on her temples with both hands. She could then hear him clearly.
Sloan, his voice, she heard it so clearly in her mind.
No, she couldn’t think about that now, it was too distracting, and she was already behind on her work. She would have to concentrate now, this was what was important. And that is what she did; she picked up her coffee mug and chugged the caffeine down, then it was time for power-scanning.
At 4:30 pm, the 17 cups of caffeine started to wear off. She heard the jackhammer working in her head again, and she was beyond the point of even trying to focus. However, she still got two covers worked out, so her day wasn’t ruined completely. She picked up her files and headed out the door towards the assistant’s desk to grab her coat, purse and of course, the oh-so essential list. Elaine was already standing with everything in hand, ready to hand everything over to the boss, anything to make her leave the office faster. Sometimes Elaine’s affection for Ashleigh was too strong for mortal words.
Determined to not be humiliated by another person today, Ashleigh stomped her way to the company car as fast she possibly could, while constantly maintaining her severe attitude and reputation in the building. Without uttering a word, she got into the car and it drove her home quickly, and most importantly quietly. She recognized the driver, he was the one who witnessed her at her weakest, and in some way she was grateful that he had kept silent about the incident. It wasn’t like Ashleigh felt like she owed him any explanation, but still, she was glad she didn’t have to bark at him for being a nosy driver, then sack him.
Two turns of key later, Ashleigh was home. She left it in such a hurry that she forgot what it looked like in daylight. There were things on the ground, shoes lying at opposite poles of her room and her favourite red dress was crumpled up under her majestic bed. As her eyes glared at the mess she left this morning, they stopped on the little red blinking light on the answering machine.
Okay, everyone gets messages, and it’s not like Ashleigh was ostracized by society or anything. But given the circumstances, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what was in the message. She approached it with a sigh, ready to get it over with; after all, it could have been anyone. Right?
“Hey there beautiful, just checking to make sure you’re alright. I’m not going to ask you to call back, but I’ll still be hoping you do, especially after last night!”
It was the same rasping, sexy voice that she remembered. Even without the construction workers in her head, she could remember his voice clearly. A number appeared on the screen so she brought out the manhunt list from her Hermès Birkin to finally get some answers.
There he was, Sloan E. Ezra, 27 years old, freelance photo journalist. She was almost relieved his career had some potential, but that wasn’t going to make her call him. He was decent on paper, but she didn’t want or need another man in her life right now. After the too-recent emotional catastrophe, she knew some men just couldn’t handle mere physical relations and she wasn’t doing to risk more drama. She let herself fall on the bed and wondered: When did men become such needy sissies?
