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Showing results for tags 'romantic comedy'.
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Chapter One: Leah flinched as her phone alarm muffled sound from the depths of her tangled sheets. Opening an eyelid, she squinted and flailed about the web of fabric over her, unable to grasp her waking agitator. With a groan, she sprang up flopping and groping through pillows and folds knowing full well the sound and buzzes were coming from her ass, but too discombobulated and tired to make any sort of sense at the present moment. Finally, in a desperate attempt to find and silence the damn thing, she tugged her blanket taut watching it fly in the air until it tumbled onto the floor. Her watery brown eyes narrowed as she scooped it up, viewing an online meeting alert set to start in ten minutes. Swiping up to her home screen another message popped up, “Are you still watching?” It was that period-drama series she dozed off to on Netflix. She’d been watching it every night when she knew she should’ve been working on her article pitch. It had become a habit loop. After her nightly skin care routine, she’d try to work for a couple of more hours sitting up in bed- mistake number one. Then, she’d try to find some background noise to play from her phone. ASMR videos were the best type. But lately she’d been browsing various streaming apps first- mistake number two. There was always something to watch or to continue to watch, and the will-power it took not to watch and become invested was a losing battle of irrevocable regret- eventually mistake number three. Leah debated whether to continue her drama show binge. It was a revisionist gothic romance set in 18th century London. She became invested in Sophronia, a young attractive maiden set out to disguise herself in a variety of ways to continuously trick and torment the oblivious, arrogant count who took her virginity. She got up to the scene where Sophronia, disguised as her third character, an exotic guest named Nihan, meandering her way through a Turkish rococo structure in the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens lurking behind the count, enchanted by all the surrounding revelry. She thought about finishing the episode in the bathroom, but she was jolted by another meeting reminder. “Geez, Alright!” She grumbled to herself as she tapped her phone, turning off the alarm and logging onto her work call. She hated being coerced by that annoying bell. It would’ve been easy to attend with her long wavy hair looking like a bird’s nest hiding behind a little black square with her name on it, but showing everyone’s pretty face in real time was a requirement at Picks magazine. It was a follow-up pitch meeting, and she had to attend. In the world of print music journalism, the ruthless nature of the pitch could make or break a writer. If an idea was given the green light, it better have the substance and enterprise to impress a fastidious editor. Leah had to top herself every issue and out produce the one before. Did that always happen? Not lately. It had been two months since her last article on music streaming subscription prices, which didn’t exactly get as many Letters to the Editor or “hits” on the Online edition as the previous month’s feature about a rising female synth pop musician who didn’t have a record deal but did have 50,000 followers on her newly created TikTok account. Still needing to flesh out her ideas for the upcoming issue, Leah had to be on her A-game. Opening the bedroom door, Leah’s teenage son, Jacques, walked in with Luna, a short bushy salt and pepper colored miniature schnauzer and Ziggy, a tall lanky chocolate brown Labrador retriever who had already managed to squeeze by Jacques’ legs chasing Luna onto the bed. Prodding at Luna’s face, Ziggy’s paw fell, tangling into Leah’s hair and scratching her shoulder. After trying to escape from being encased inside Ziggy’s large snout, Luna jumped away from him, leaping onto Leah’s stomach trampling down her legs. Jolted by Luna’s fearless nimble body, Leah jerked forward, popping her phone out of her hands. “Damit! Fricken Dogs!” Leah shrieked. “Can you please make sure your mute button is on?” a voice exclaimed sternly from the phone’s speaker. Leah’s eyes widened in sheer terror. Mouthing profanities, she quickly picked up the device, juggled it like a hot potato and caught a grip. But of course, the meeting app wouldn’t reopen. Why would it do that? It was only one of the most important work meetings of the month! Stabbing the glass until the conference screen appeared, she saw that her video was off, but her microphone was on. During a virtual meeting, the mic and video were like a loaded gun, and at that moment, Leah wished she could use one to escape from complete embarrassment. Leaning over her nightstand, Leah slumped over the side of her bed trying to prop her phone up against a lamp. Turning from side to side, she cringed at the distortion of its video, making her body look bigger than reality. Although she liked the thought of having a double-D sized chest, she didn’t want her colleagues thinking about it. Still trampling over her work materials, Ziggy’s hind legs reversed into Leah’s back, pushing her forward. Turning around as a knee-jerk reaction, her cheek was whipped by his thick sturdy tail. It was no use. The dogs weren’t going to make it easy for her to finish the meeting in the comfort of her own bed, nor was the unflattering video going to make her look like anything other than Brűnnhilde, the opera singer. Dodging another scuffle, Leah picked up her phone and headed toward her desk. “Alright. Leah, can you fill us in on your progress?” Jeffrey, Leah’s editor asked. Startled, Leah looked about her disarrayed papers for her pitch notes. Glancing to see if they were on her bed, she saw Jacques towering over it, smiling at the dogs who were still tussling over her pillows and blankets. Angrily, she snapped her finger and pointed towards the door. Jacques nervously grinned and scooped Luna who was about to lunge forward. In one swinging motion, Ziggy popped up from Leah’s pillow, jumped off, and followed them out. Seeing her notebook fly off the bed, Leah’s editor spoke again. “Leah? Are you still with us?” Asked Jeffery, a balding slender middle-aged man with thick dark rimmed glasses and a short trimmed beard. Fidgeting with the speaker, Leah glanced up spotting her notes on the floor. With no time to spare, she hunched down to her knees, relieved to behold her evasive notebook, flopping through the pages. Leah fidgeted with her phone trying to put the speaker back on. “Yes, I apologize. My computer is running a little slow.” Leah said, clearly trying to buy some time. “No worries. Whatcha got?” Jeffrey asked. “Er, I’ve been working on a couple of pieces particularly with the upcoming music festivals we have set here, but..” Cutting Leah off, Jeffrey responded, “I’m not sure if that’s going to work out unless you’re going to work with Margaret on her piece.” He suggested. Although he was not an extremely demanding editor, he was a straightforward boss who let his team know exactly what he was thinking. “Oh?” remarked Leah. Trying to recall the bits and pieces she overheard while the whole ruckus with the dogs was occurring. Margaret’s face appeared in the speaker window. “Yes, basically, my piece is on the upcoming music festival in Camden; a sort of first look and guide. Was your piece set in Camden?” Margaret asked. “Well, I was thinking about it. I had some other ones in mind as well.” Leah said, trying not to let her colleagues see her go into full panic mode. “Now, let’s not get too ambitious. You don’t have much time left until deadline, Leah. What else were you working on?” Jeffrey asked. Flipping through several pages of ideas, she traced her etchings with her finger. There were markings and lines, crossed out words, phrases, and sentences, some that she couldn’t quite make out. Remembering one notion, she flicked back locating it. “Er, I have another piece on a first look at American bands that are coming to London this summer and why readers should or should not attend based on their tour reviews.” Leah said. “Er, I believe that idea is also similar to what Alan was working on,” Jeffrey sharply said. He scratched his head and lifted the lower rim of his glasses with the back of his index finger. “How about you take a day and we can circle back on something, let’s say, tomorrow afternoon?” He proposed. Leah stammered agreeing to meet with him on a follow-up call. Immediately turning off her camera and sound, she hung her head in defeat as the embarrassment crept in, replaying the whole morning in her mind, making even the marrow of her spirit cringe. Toward the end of the meeting, Leah had her cursor on the “End Meeting” button when Jeffrey called her name out. Oh shit. This is not good. “Can you stay behind, please?” Jeffrey asked. Leah turned on her camera and speaker. “Of course.” Melting in her seat, a cold sweat emerged flushing down her neck and chest. Her body, in abstrusity, made her adrenaline go into overdrive plastering a placid smile on her face. Jeffrey fidgeted in his seat looking deadset into the camera, waiting. When he and Leah were the only two squares on the call, he spoke. “Leah, how have things been going for you?” He asked. “I’m doing alright, aside from some minor health issues.” “Tell me about it.” He said, scoffing. “How old are we? I know I’m a heart attack waiting to happen. I haven’t been to the doctor in years.” “Yeah, I don’t think we go by choice. But then you turn forty and your private afflictions seep out of your pores like a leaking vessel.” “I never thought about it that way.” “And your family back in the States? How are they?” He asked. Leah’s eyebrows clocked inward. Where is he going with this? Why is he asking about my family? She wondered. “They’re good.” “When was the last time you saw them?” He asked. Leah grew uncomfortable at this point. Jeffrey was a considerate boss, but inquiring about her family back in the states had never happened before in the ten years she had worked for him. “Er, I usually go over there for the holidays.” “When you retire, are you going to go back there?” “Jeffrey.” Leah called out. “It’s a perfectly legitimate question. You’re from sunny Florida. Lord knows why you’d rather be in drabby London.” “This is my home.” She said, defensively. “Are you trying to kick me out?” “No. No. But we’re not the spring chickens anymore. We have to start thinking about things like that.” “Well, I just turned forty. I have some time. Unless, Off boarding is going to suddenly appear.” Jeffrey chuckled. “Leah, you’re funny.” “I’m being serious. Is off boarding going to appear?” “No. Well, not yet. But I’m not going to sit here and say that any of us are not going to be in that situation. Things are very different than they were a few years ago. I mean we both started here on the beat. You should be sitting where I am. You’re as good as they come.” “I appreciate that, but I could never do your job. You’re good at what you do.” “Perhaps, but I got into this career to read and write about an industry I’ve been fascinated with since I was a young chap, not to look at reports and entertain suits over numbers and figures.” “But, your hands are tied, yeah? Is that what’s coming next? Because I can already hear it.” “Leah…” “Because I can’t seem to get any clearance from you to write anything other than last month’s crossword puzzle for Lizzie while she’s on maternity leave or about some shady local concerts that got zero traction. I’m struggling here.” Jeffrey took a moment in thought. He stiffened his lip into a tight sympathetic smile. “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, cuts are coming.” He said with a somber look. “I tell you this in perfect confidence, but they’re not looking at the first one in first one out kind of thing and they’re not looking for much of my input either. It’s a summum bonum.” Leah’s face wrinkled, “You mean, ad maius bonum?” She asked. “Wait. What am I thinking of?” Jeffrey questioned himself, confused. “No, you’re right…For the Greater Good….Ad Maius Bonum. You see, you’re one of the best. You have it in you. Look, I won’t keep you any longer, but I really am on your side, but the times are changing and we need to be aware or we find ourselves alone standing in a bog without a stick in sight.” “Well, if you're standing in a bog alone, you’re pretty much screwed, so thanks for the pep talk.” “Yeah, that did not come out the way I wanted to. Probably because my ten o’clock just popped up in my waiting room.” He said. “Alight. Talk to you tomorrow.” As his face vanished from the screen, Leah stared into the screen watching the images and letters from her meeting app merge into one object. She didn’t want to have to think about what she would do if she was sacked from her job. She didn’t want to even think about having to bring that up to her ex-husband, Tim, who would likely show up at her doorstep begging her to return to New York with him as he always did when Leah ran into tough times. The thought alone gave her some momentum to have a productive day in preparation for tomorrow’s pitch re-do. Trudging into the kitchen, irritated, she abruptly halted a few steps in, noticing Jacques slouched over the counter eating a bowl of cereal oblivious to the world around him with his earbuds snug as he swiped at his phone. Her eyebrows snapped up, witnessing a trail of corn flakes along the floor and counter, surrounding him like a body outline at a crime scene. This is not what she wanted to deal with after such a harrowing morning. She was not in the mood to be his maid as she often found herself entertaining. Grabbing the broom, Leah marched up to him, trying to get his attention away from his headphones. He stood up, taking a step back, staring at her as if he still didn’t have a clue. Leah pointed to her ear hoping Jacques would get the hint to take them off, but she put too much faith in that thought as he continued to mindlessly gawk at her. Leah, whose eyes were ready to start spinning like a slot machine, swiped at his earbuds. However, Jacques reflexes were much faster than his ability to read social cues. After seeing him miraculously getting the hint and removing one, Leah chided, “Clean up your mess!” “Alright.” Jacques said irritably, as if he was being inconvenienced. Resting the broom against the counter, he took another scoop of cereal. Initially, Leah wanted to grab the broom and sideswipe him with it, but she knew she would make more progress banging her head against a brick wall. “Jacques, I didn’t give you the broom to brush me off. Look at the mess you made!” Leah said, continuing to reproach him. Jacques looked down at the floor. “I saw it. I’m going to get to it. Give me a minute.” He said with his mouth still full of cereal wiping his hands on his shirt. “Did you really just do that?” Leah asked, quickly tearing a paper towel and handing it to him. Jacques tossed his sandy blonde hair to the side and wiped his hands. Leah shook her head giving in to the thought that she had a teenage boy to raise and it was getting harder by the minute these days. She needed to make herself a good cup of tea to simmer her nerves. Reaching into the cupboard, Leah noticed a sticky note on the countertop by the house phone. She couldn’t make out the writing other than the word Dr. loosely written on it. “What’s this?” She said, swiping the note up and showing it to Jacques. Jacques glanced up, tossing his bangs to the side. “Oh yeah, the doctor belled.” Leah’s head fell to the side, "Why didn’t they call on my mobile?” Jacques shrugged his shoulders and looked back down at his phone. “Ugh,” Leah’s shoulders dropped. “Ok. So what did they say?” Leah asked. Jacques had already put his earbuds back on and scooped another heap of cereal. Leah waved her hand in front of his face. “What’s that?” Jacques responded. “What - did- they- say?” Leah asked slowly. “Who?” Jacques asked. “Are you being serious? The doctor’s office!” “Oh, right. Nothing.” Leah gave up asking Jacques any more questions. Her son was in his own little world and the thought that he was an honors student at school baffled her. She was smart enough to decipher what the note meant. She had been to the endocrinologist recently and was waiting on test results. “Alright. I’ll call them back.” She resigned. She walked to her room and sifted through papers and envelopes on her desk looking for the doctor’s phone number. Swiping her phone off the bed, she tapped into her call history. Leah couldn’t recall any incoming calls or pop ups from them, but she somehow missed them. Locating the missed call, she pressed the return button. “Yes, this is Leah Marcel. I received a call from Dr. Helms’ office. I’m assuming it’s about my results? They weren’t posted on my online portal.” she said, biting the side of her lip. “My birthday? April 8th, 19…, yes. Yes, I’ll hold.” Sitting at her vanity, Leah switched to speakerphone as she looked at herself in the mirror, running her hands through her wavy honey brown hair, drawing them down to the tips that fell out to the middle of her back, holding on to some strands rubbing them between her fingertips. She wasn’t used to such a long length, and by the texture of her dry ends, she knew why. Before she could get hypercritical of the rest of her reflection, the nurse returned on the phone. “Miss Marcel?” the nurse called out. “Yes?” Leah answered. “Alright, so the doctor would like to go over your results with you next week. We have appointments as early as Sunday. When do you think you’d be available to come in?” “Er, sure Sunday….Sunday would work well…” Leah stuttered as she swiped and pushed buttons accessing her phone calendar. “Alright, perfect. We’ll see you then.” “Okay, thank you very much.” Another week’s wait. Unbelievable. She had already been waiting on her thyroid test results for two weeks. Her doctor initially ordered it after Leah shared a new onset of symptoms she thought were due to being middle aged: the racing heartbeat, heart flutters, brain fog, fatigue. Although she worked out every day and tried to be as healthy as possible, after she hit forty, it was as if the light switch had been turned off or at least dimmed from the way things used to work. At that moment, Jacques peered his head into the room. ‘So, what’d they say?’ Leah turned slightly to the doorway. “I have a follow up appointment next week.” “Right then, Janice belled.” “What?” Leah cried out, “Why didn’t she call my phone?” Jacques shrugged his shoulders. Leah rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply. “Alright, I’ll call her back, thanks.” Jacques nodded and stepped into the hallway. “Hey, Hey, Hey!” Leah shouted. When Jacques returned, she raised her hand pointing at the dogs, “Before you go, make sure the dogs have H-2-O in their bowls; then, take them out to pee.” Leah said. “Alright. Where’s the leash?” Jacques asked, looking down at his phone. Leah scoffed. “Wherever you put it from the last time you used it. Where was that?” Becoming enthralled with his phone, Jacques laughed ignoring Leah’s question. “Jacques!” Leah yelled. Excited at the commotion, Luna launched herself into the air while Ziggy tapped her trying to chime in on the enthusiasm. “Yes, yes, yes. I’m listening. I’m listening. What did you say?” Jacques quickly pleaded. Leah wondered if she was the last one to take the dogs out. She had been so busy with work that she trusted Jacques to take care of them. They were actually his dogs. He’s the one who begged her to buy Ziggy from one of his classmates, promising to take care of him and all of the responsibilities that went with owning a pet. He promised the same thing when he spotted Luna roaming the neighborhood for weeks without any tags or owners. He asked people in the area, but no one wanted to claim her. He promised to even take care of them when he came home late and exhausted from school. Of course, that promise was short-lived. It was in fact Leah who took care of them even when she came home exhausted from work. Nevertheless, Jacques needed to handle them. “Jacques, my Cuban side is gonna come out and you are not gonna like it when it does….now, find it! They’re your dogs!” Groaning in teenage fashion, Jacques shuffled slowly toward the door patting his knee. However, the dogs had already settled from their former excitement and were deep in animal thought ignoring his hopeful gestures. Trying to avoid using the magic word, Jacques extended his arm, snapping his fingers. “C’mon Zig, C’mon, Luna.” He called out, “How about some din-din?” “Jacques!” exclaimed Leah. “What?” he asked, obliviously. Luna and Ziggy raised their heads at the same time and pranced toward the door. “It’s too early to feed them!” “I know! But, how else was I supposed to get them out?” “How about with the leash!” Leah shouted as her son disappeared into the hallway. Wondering how she could get the morning to go even just a little bit her way, Leah decided to take a break from work, reset with a workout and meet her good friend Janice for a late day tea.
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My novel is about a heartbroken, modern-day science teacher who is wooed by a man who claims to be Shakespeare. 1 Joy looks up at the autumn sky and sees a sign: a white “H” within a bright green square, a logo that reminds her of summer vacations. “Who knew we had a Holiday Inn?” she says to Fredrico. “Who cares?” She could change the subject to something more relevant to him—like the spa facilities at the new Ritz Carlton, or his resemblance to a 1970’s George Harrison—but instead of working that hard, she lets the conversation drop. The restaurant is just a few blocks from his West Village apartment, and she wants to relax and take in the unseasonably warm weather before dinner. Along the way, her thoughts return to summer. She doesn’t intent to talk about her memories. Or her parents—Joy never does that—but after a few minutes of silence, she finds herself reminiscing aloud, conveying more about her childhood than she’s shared with Fredrico over the entire five years they've been together. She tells him about Destin, Florida, a beach resort about two hundred and fifty hundred miles from New Orleans, and the Holidome, a tiki-themed Holiday Inn where she and her parents used to stay. To her, it was the best place ever. Her mom and dad would watch from the bamboo-covered bar all day while she swam in the indoor pool or played video games. With plenty of other kids around and a seemingly endless supply of quarters, there was no need to go outside. “I guess I didn’t spend a lot of time looking out the windows”—she laughs—“because when I was ten, Mom confessed we never got to Florida.” “Huh?” Fredrico says, lifting his head from his phone. “The Holidome was in New Orleans, less than eight miles from home. Dad would get on I-10, drive around in giant circles, and wait for me to ask, ‘Are we there yet?’ As soon as I did, he’d say, ‘Yes, we are!’ and turn onto the hotel exit.” “That’s nuts.” “No, it was brilliant!” Almost thirty years later, Joy’s still impressed by her parents’ efficiency. In her mind, the Florida ruse isn’t much different from Santa Claus, but apparently, Fredrico disagrees. “You should be much more fucked up,” he tells her. “What do you mean more fucked up?” “Less trusting,” he says, but she can tell he's holding back.