A little something I was working on today.
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“I’ve grown tired of you.” He spoke with his usual formality as he held his glass up to his nose, breathing in the oaky scent of his red wine.
“You’ve grown tired of me?” Confused, she stared at him, taking in his nonchalant actions.
“Yes, that is what I said and that is what I meant.” Without drinking his wine, he placed it back onto the cocktail napkin, cleared his throat and held Stella’s eye.
“I really am not sure where this is coming from, Adam.” They had just spent a fairly enjoyable day together, visiting art galleries and shopping for antiques. Sure, they weren’t the most exciting couple but, they got along fine. The never fought, though and Stella figured that was a check for the positive. She also knew there was no passion, she wasn’t sure Adam was the passionate type anyways, always very serious and extremely formal. He probably would have done better in the 1960’s. Then again, she probably would have been better off back then, too. She sighed.
“It’s not a decision I’ve hastily arrived at,” He began, his voice taking a tone that a parent would use with a child, “I just can’t see the use of continuing on with our relationship. I’m sorry dear, you’re a lovely person and I’m sure you’ll make some chap a very happy fellow. You’re just not the right girl for me.”
“I see.” Stella played with the napkin on her lap as she tried to figure out how, exactly, she was feeling about the news Adam shared, “I see.” She felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“I promise you, you’ll get over me in time. It is human nature to be able to move on with our lives, even when our hearts get broken.” He drank his wine, puckering his lips after each sip.
Stella felt like laughing, “Oh Adam, my heart is not broken. Not at all.” Quite the opposite, she felt almost liberated. As though she’d been set free from a cage she’d spent far too long in.
Shoving back in her chair, she stood up and grabbed her coat and purse. Nodding curtly, “Well Adam, I have nothing to say except ‘thank you’. Goodbye.”
Adam watched her, measuring her moves, “How will you get home, Stella? At least allow me to drive you. You’re too far away to walk.”
“That won’t be necessary, Adam. I’ll have the restaurant call me a cab.” She turned and walked toward the front of the popular restaurant where the Maitre d stand was.
Facing the middle-aged, distinguished man who stood guard over the restaurants front door, “Excuse me, sir. Could I trouble you to call me a cab?”
Smiling, the Maitre d, whose tag declared him to be “Thomas”, “Of course, my dear. Where would you like to be taken?” She told him her address, which he repeated into the phone’s receiver, “A car will arrive in fifteen minutes. Can I get you anything while you wait? It’s on the house.” The last part, he whispered.
“I’d love a scotch on the rocks, please. That would be so lovely, thank you.” Stella glanced over at Adam, who was still sitting at the table. He was eating a dinner salad, chewing it with his mouth open. Stella was relieved to not be sitting across from him, that was one of his habits she found to be revolting. For someone that prided himself in class and intelligence, he always missed the mark.
Relief washed over her. She and Adam had been together for over a year. The entire relationship had been predictable bordering on boring. Their mother’s had met each other at Bridge Club, bonding over their love of the card game and the fact that their adult children were living in the city and still single. Coincidentally, they lived and worked in the very same city, over one hundred miles from where their mother’s were.
The ladies, both widows, had been thrilled that Adam and Stella had hit it off and were secretly planning the wedding.
They really hadn’t hit if off, though. It was more along the lines of settling, at least on Stella’s part. With no other suitors waiting for her, Stella resigned to the fact that Adam was the best she was going to get. With his admission at dinner, she knew instantly that she would rather be alone than with someone like him.
Her scotch arrived and she drank it quickly, revelling in the warmth that swept over her. Maybe she’d go to the little bar across the street from her tiny apartment, she mulled.
The car arrived so she quickly thanked the Maitre D and handed him a five dollar tip which he waved away, “It’s my pleasure, dear.” He winked.
Waving, she ran out the front door and climbed into the backseat of the taxi. In the rearview mirror, she noticed a set of slate grey eyes inspecting her, “Where to, lady?” The voice didn’t match the eyes, it sounded like smooth leather, if smooth leather were to have a sound.
Reciting her address to the driver, she turned and stared out the window. It was cold out, snow had covered the streets and sidewalks leaving a combination of pure white mixed with brown mush. Holiday decorations winked from every pole and window. Couples walked, hand in hand, admiring the spirit of the season. Groups of friends entered restaurants and bars, Stella could hear their laughter through the closed window of the cab.
The cabbie interrupted her observational reverie, “What’s your story?”
Stella looked up at the rearview mirror, making eye contact with the reflection, “I guess I really don’t have a story.” She responded, honestly.
“Everybody has a story.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Mine is quite boring and not worth going into detail over.” She smiled back.
The taxi lurched to an abrupt stop, sending Stella sliding forward. “Sorry, traffic jam.” He huffed.
“No problem.” She reached for the seat belt and secured herself into the seat.
The cars were at a stand still and the driver threw the car into park, “Hope you aren’t in a hurry.”
“Actually, not at all. I have nowhere to be.” She pulled her phone out of her purse, checking to see if she had missed any calls or messages yet knowing she hadn’t. She had only been in the city for two years, where she worked as a research assistant at the University, and hadn’t made any effort to meet anyone. She had acquaintances at work but none had made overtures to solidify any sort of friendship. Meeting Adam over a year ago had kept her somewhat busy, at least she had that to be thankful for.
“So, since we seem to have some time on our hands, why don’t you share your boring story with me.” He pushed, his silky voice spreading warmth and good cheer through Stella’s cold body.
“Like I said, sir, it’s boring. Very normal. I work as a Research Assistant and I go home to my cat. I had a boyfriend until around thirty minutes ago. And that’s it in a nutshell.” She used her most matter-of-fact voice, hoping it would end his inquiry into her life.
“What’s your name?” he had turned around and was talking to her through the plexiglass partition.
“It’s Stella. Stella Monroe. Yours?” She was mesmerized by his face. How could somebody this good-looking be a taxi-driver, she wondered.
“It’s Blake Connelly.” he extended his large hand, “Pleased to meet you.”
Stella took her leather glove off and placed her hand in his. It was a warm, strong, rough hand; one of somebody who worked with his hands, “Nice to meet you, too.”
Traffic began to crawl again, Blake turned back and put the taxi back into drive, “Stella Monroe, what do you say you do something that is obviously out of your comfort zone,” he flicked a switch, signalling his car was now ‘off-duty”, “And let’s go have ourselves a drink?”
The first thing Stella felt she should do was to panic. This beautiful taxi-driver was going to take her to a dive bar, get her drunk and rape her. But, she met his eyes in the mirror again and just like the scotch had warmed her earlier, so did those expressive grey eyes. Shocking herself, “You know, that sounds like a good idea.”
His eyebrows raised, “Well, well, Stella. I wasn’t expecting you to be an easy one to convince. I’m glad I was wrong.”
Ignoring Blake’s last remark, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. I promise you won’t feel uncomfortable. And you promise to tell me if you do, okay?”
“It’s a deal.” Stella felt a bit nervous. Having no friends or family in the city, she didn’t have anyone watching out for her. If she disappeared, there would be no one to file a missing persons report. It would take a long time for her mother to notice she was missing, they only spoke once a week, on Fridays after work.
Blake drove toward a section of town Stella hadn’t been to, it was a more colorful area made up of the artsy types. Living blandly, she never had any reason to visit the area.
He expertly parallel parked and came around to open her door, “Welcome to my neck of the woods, Stella.” He offered his hand which she accepted, allowing him to pull her out of the back seat, “I have a feeling you could use a little fun in your life.” She watched him take in her full appearance as she stood next to him. His eyes swept over her practical cream, wool coat and caressed the waves of her auburn hair hanging loosely around her collar. She fought the urge to protectively fold her arms over her chest, he was making her feel so exposed.
He was a full head taller than her, even in her practical heels, which were starting to hurt her feet after a long day of antique shopping. His dark blonde hair hung in a messy, boyish mop. His chiseled face rivaled male models. She felt as though, as far as looks went, she was out of her league. This type of guy certainly would be more interested in a sexy arm-piece. She was so far from that type that it was laughable.
She shook her head, removing her self-deprecating thoughts, “You have no idea.” She spoke, softly, feeling a little flustered from his intense stare. She wasn’t used to anyone, let alone a handsome man, looking at her that way. If they did, she would never have known because she was always glued to a computer screen or a thick book full of information that needed to be gathered.
He grinned, his full lips parting to expose straight, white teeth. His smile, contagious, she grinned back feeling very giddy.
A taxi driver living and playing in one of the most eclectic neighborhoods? Blake Connelly probably had a very colorful story, Stella mused as she followed him even farther from her comfort zone into a loud, busy bar. Surprising herself even more, she realized she couldn’t wait to find out more about this man.
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