Bright Skies Chapter One (full ch)

3 pm. Time to wake up. I've got a hell of a lot to do today.

Shifting out of the blankets feet somehow make their way to the floor. A warm floor. It's nearly 110 outside and at this point there's a prevailing heat that's somehow seeped through the tight gaps and cracks and found its way to the heart of my air conditioned apartment.

Stumbling through my sleep I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and run my fingers through a mess of blonde. Mascara and the glimmer of eyeshadow cling to odd parts of my face. A warm wet washcloth wipes away all traces of last night, leaving behind a reflection I'm much more used to.

Shower. Coffee. Bagel. Three texts from a 702 number that I don't text back to. Heat strikes me as soon as I step out of the door, it makes the walk across the parking lot feel like an expedition through the Sahara. My car races to the government building where they process the licenses. I still can't believe I need a license for what I do, they finger print me and everything. the clerks speak to me in serious tones and I pretend that I'm signing up for some sort of life threatening mission, my face expressionless and still as they snap my photo. The lady gives me a funny look as she hands me all the paperwork, I give her the brightest smile before exclaiming "thanks!" and walking off with the documentation I need for another year of employment.

A year of employment. I never thought I'd be still working after a year. Hell, I didn't think I would still be in this city after six months, but the nights catch up to me, and months have flown by.

I readjust the shades poised precariously on top of my head back over my eyes before setting out for the car again. This time headed out for my soon to be new apartment building to sign a lease. I blow a red light or two trying to make sure I get there right at five, just as they asked, they still make me sit and wait as soon as I get there. I suppose this is all to be expected, I've been playing their game for a while now. It used to be that there was so much housing available places would advertise new amenities and price discounts trying to raise interest and make their property stick out, now you wait, you play their games, you beg for a place to allow you to move in and pay a high price for it if they do.

There are three other people in this room, all avoiding eye contact, immersed in their phones. I do the same. Safe in a screened sanctuary I flip through headlines to pass the time. "Nebraska farmers sue the state, lack of subsidies causes halt in production" "18 killed in suicide bombing in Madrid" "Strange lights reported over Buffalo, NY unlicensed drone use suspected" "New technology in 3D printing may change the pizza industry" I pause my finger on the last one, only to be disappointed when the article pops up. It's more gimmicky than anything, stating that they may have the technology soon to make something that sort of resembles what they're talking about. More of the same. I am saved from flashing advertisement trying to convince me of how much money I would save by switching to an insurance companies that covers loses due to food borne illnesses by a young girl in oversized glasses calling my name.

I pick up my things and start walking towards the office but the assistant takes three steps to the right to perfectly block my path. She stands there, slightly swaying, with her hands balling up the fabric of her skirt at the sides.

"I'm sorry, it looks like they won't be able to accept your application at this time"

The words sink like a stone in my stomach. "You've already accepted my application, I'm here to put down my deposit." It come out a little more curtly than I had anticipated, my tongue shoots up to press against the top of my mouth.

"I'm sorry. They told me to tell you you're welcome to apply again at a later time"

I'm sure I am. It was $100 just for the initial application. Non reimbursable of course. Legs and arms are stiff, rigid as I make my way home. Pulling into my parking spot is my cue. In one swift move I pound my dashboard and pull my knees up to become a ball of self pity sitting in my drivers seat. Completely screwed. It took me months to find this place. Half my stuff was already boxed up. My landlord expects me to be moved out in ten days. Completely screwed. This becomes a mantra that repeats itself on a loop inside my head. Maybe they haven't rented my place out yet. Maybe I can stay. I doubt it. Back to throwing money at a crappy hotel till I can find a place. A cry of frustration burst out of me but at the same time movement catches my attention to the left. I didn't hear the car pull up next to me but it's driver was staring right at me.

Perfect. My body moves to slide as far down in my seat as possible. I wonder how long he has been there? Wait. I really don't want to know. I can feel the heat on my cheeks as the color rushes to them. Then, the softest knocking against my door.

I look up through my slightly spread fingertips to see hazel eyes on an attractive face looking down on me. He looks like he just got home from a busy day at work, a very official looking shirt slightly unbuttoned on top, I can see a small coffee stain on one of his rolled up sleeves. His slightly messy dark brown hair looks like he's spent a good deal of time today running his hands through it.

"Hello...are you okay?"

How embarrassing. Straightening up in my chair I brush the tears off my cheek and do my best to clear my face of its previous emotions. He looks like a nice guy, I haven't seen him around before. Perhaps he's new. His face has slight bags under his eyes, the kind you get from stress or lack of sleep.

"Sorry. Yeah, It's fine, I mean I'm fine." I can't help but cringe at my own awkwardness.

"You didn't look fine a second ago." A half smile breaks across his face.

"Ha," his smile is a bit disarming, "yeah, I'm just kinda frustrated. I'll get over it." Turning from the window I busy myself shutting off the engine avoiding eye contact. I glance over to see he's moved from my door to half sitting half leaning on his car parked right beside mine. I take my time grabbing my things and opening the door. I catch him looking off at no where, his mind far off in some unimaginable place. He lets out a very controlled force of air, a specific sigh it sounds like he's done a million times before, this one's aimed in my direction.

"I need a drink," he says as such a declaration and a flash of amusement courses through me as I watch him run his hands through his hair in exasperation, "seems like you could use one too." Another half smile, "Care to join me?"

My lips start to form the word "no" before I stop myself. Why not? I don't know him. My red flags are always there in the background, ready to not trust. He seems harmless though, nice even. Today has been such a disappointment, it doesn't seem possible for it to get worse. Sure. Yes. I want to.

"Sure."

A full smile. Something lights up in his eyes that wasn't there before. I watch him stand up, look around, and spot the bar a block a way. "Is that place any good? I don't really know the area yet."

"Not sure, I've never been there," I don't want to see his excitement drop so I quickly add, "I've heard good things."

"Great! Uh..." He glances back at what looks like a computer bag and lunch box spread across his passenger seat, "let me take care of a few things. Do you want to meet over there? Let's shoot for half an hour or so."

"Works for me." I turn to lock up my civic.

"My name's Michael, I didn't introduce myself before."

"Jessica" I smile before turning to walk away, "I'll see you there."

"Great. See you."

I glance back over my shoulder to see him moving some things around in his car. A flutter of excitement moves through me as I walk up the stairs to my place. My place. My heart sinks a little as the feeling of despair fights for its place at the front of my mind. I throw my purse on the tile floor and collapse on my couch as soon as I walk through the door.

What a headache. I can't stay upset. Scratch that. I certainly can stay upset, but it'll do me no good. A solution. There's always a solution, but right now a better solution is have a drink with the cute neighbor and get this as far from my mind as possible.

I wonder what's happened in his day to put him in such a mood. There was a definite tenseness around him. Could be anything I suppose. The clock in the corner catches my attention and I make my way over to the closet to pick something to change into.

After rummaging through my endless piles of clothes for a good ten minutes I settle on zipping up a bright yellow sundress I bought a few weeks ago but never got around to wearing. I almost immediately regret my decision. Smooth skin transforms into frown lines in my reflection as nervous mixed feelings wash over me. It looks good, but that makes it look like I tried to look good. I don't want him to read into it. What if he takes it for over excitement? Desperation? Men are so difficult in the real world and I wonder for a moment what I was thinking by saying yes. I tend to over think these things like a game of chess that only I'm playing, only problem is I don't tend to win.

My door shudders as I close it harder than I meant to. I'm over thinking it by even thinking about it that way at all. I'm sure he just wants someone to complain to about his day. I can feel heat on my cheeks as I head down the stairs and I mentally chastise myself for letting my vanity make such quick assumptions about his intentions.

The sign for Platform looms in front of me. It's one of those places that looks like it's trying way too hard to be relevant with mild atmosphere lights and a falsely luxurious exterior that's about as high class as a plastic chandler. True Vegas style.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim illumination coming from oversized hipster lightbulbs hanging above the tables. The dining room is nearly empty and after a sweeping look over at the bar it appears my new neighbor is nowhere to be seen. Figures. The bartender gives me an inviting smile between wiping down dirty glasses, so I have a seat and order a glass of wine. A cool sip of Pino Grigio sends a familiar sense of calm through me. The taste is sweeter here and I can't remember the last time I had a drink outside of work. It's a lovely feeling to pay for my own drink and not have to pretend to be overly grateful.

I can feel a wave of hot air pass over me from where I'm sitting by the door. I turn to see my neighbor squinting at the dining room and watch as his eyes turn to catch mine. Their expression is slightly flustered and apologetic.

"Sorry I'm late, damn cat." He mutters the last bit as he takes a seat on the bar stool next to mine. "Apparently he hates my new place, he made a run for it as soon as I opened the door. Have you been sitting here for long?"

"Nope. I just started settling in. Here," I hand him the drink menu that I realize I'm still holding, "what's your cats name?"

"Terrance," he glances over the menu and flips it over to the beer selection, "he kinda looks like Garfield, only fatter." The bartender looks at him expectantly and he orders a Guinness.

"Terrance?" I flash him an amused grin.

"I didn't name him," he returns with a half smile, "he's kind of a relic from a past life of mine." He moves to almost physically shake off the direction the conversation is moving, "So, I've been imagining what in the world caused the panic attack I witnessed in the parking lot, but I'm at a loss."

"It wasn't a panic attack."

"Oh?" His eyebrows raise expectantly, a smirk hides somewhere in his calm face.

"I told you, I was just,..frustrated." I can see he's waiting for more of an answer, instead I take a strategic sip of wine.

His expression lingers, unphased by my obvious attempt to shake him off. "And what," his body leans toward me ever so slightly, "was so frustrating?"

"Life."

The smallest of chuckles. He raises the glass of foamy beer newly placed in front of him and gives me a pointed look before taking a long sip.

"Your day wasn't so easy either."

"What makes you say that?"

I return his pointed look.

He rolls his eyes as he turns his head away from me for another frothy sip.

I let a moment of silence pass through us before trying to satisfy more of the curiosity building inside of me. "You're not a gambler, you're not an alcoholic...so what made you move to Vegas?"

"How do you know I'm not a gambler or an alcoholic?"

"Because you're not."

A muttered sound of amusement. "Good point." He lets out what's quickly becoming his signature sigh in my mind and takes a moment before answering. "I was relocated for work. Not my ideal destination, but it was worth the sacrifice. Some things you just can't miss out on. I wasn't expecting it to be so god damn hot though."

"What do you do?"

I can see a shift in his careless demeanor, "Just some government work, I'm a geneticist actually, it's mostly staring at screens all day. Nothing too interesting." He says this last bit quickly, a forced casual tone.

"That actually sounds fascinating." Though I want him to go on I can't help but be fascinated by him more than anything. Cute and intelligent. A nice mix.

"I guess."

"What does a geneticist do in Las Vegas though? I'm imagining you running around genetically modifying tigers not to eat Sigfreid or something." I flash him a ridiculous grin, letting myself fall into unabashed flirting.

He leans closer to me in mock seriousness, "It's completely confidential," and turns to grab a food menu but not before giving me a sly wink. "Are you hungry at all? I'm starving?"

We take a few moments flipping through the heavily stylized pages of the menus. I settle on a light cranberry salad with candied pecans, a club sandwich for him. Michael insists on paying for our food since he was too late to buy my first drink. He orders me another glass of wine as well, and some sort of whisky for himself.

"Is it my turn to ask you the obligatory question of what do you do for work?"

Ugh. His hazel eyes are so playful I can't help but smile even though I had dreaded the inevitability of his question. "I suppose so. I'm a dancer."

"That's awesome! What kind of act? You're not in Cirque de Soleil are you?"

"Kinda like Cirque, but with a little more champagne, and a little less clothing." I can visibly see the understanding appearing on his face. "I'm a stripper. Well, entertainer is what they legally call it here if you want to get technical."

He bursts out laughing and awkwardly trickles off his amusement as he realizes I'm not joining him in the fun.

"You're serious?"

The question is uncomfortable when anyone asks my occupation, reactions are different and I never know what to expect. There is a terrible prejudice about women in my field which I can't help to acknowledge might be there for a good reason when I talk to some of my co-workers. I hate being automatically categorized with them. I hate when people suddenly look at me like I have some sort of addiction I'm hiding or cripplingly unresolved daddy issues. I can feel the need to explain myself welling up inside me, but I hold back and instead respond with a cool, confident "what?," as if I can't fathom why he would react in such a way.

"I just," he takes a moment to clear his face and regain his casual composure before letting out a softer laugh "I just didn't expect that. I guess this is the place for it after all. You don't seem like the type. Then again I don't know what the type is really-"

"Don't worry about it," I cut him off playfully, "I get that all the time." His genuine surprise is so endearing it cuts through my own personal discomfort. "I always tell people I'm really more of a therapist than anything, you'd be surprised how many people just want a shoulder to cry on. It's the easiest job out there."

"Damn...I couldn't get out there and...shake it for the world to see. That's something."

"I love what I do. Everybody wants to feel loved, feel special, it's part of the human condition. I give them the attention they long for."

His cocky half smile reappears on his face, "What a saint."

I give him a humble, mother Teresa-ish, nod. I do love it. The glamour and excitement is as intoxicating as the beverage in my hand. I feel a pressure inside of me releasing. I find that my occupation elicits one of two responses, in varying degrees which ever way, either disgust or excitement. This situations appears to be the lather.

I take on a few of his questions before changing the conversation to safer ground. We sit there long after the platters of food are placed in front of us and removed. Shooting the shit. Talking about everything and nothing. It's fun the way meeting anyone new is, with an added excitement of mutual attraction. There's a certain pleasant feeling that comes from discovering the small mysteries of someone you've never talked to before. I learn he's from Washington, but has spent the last few years in New York. He learns that I'm a middle child, that I love sudoku. Simple things lead to deeper matters. I learn he's fresh out of a four year relationship, he learns I haven't talked to my family for years.

Michaels smiles start getting interrupted by yawns, the three drinks on top of whatever he went through at his work today seems to be taking a toll.

"It's late." I hate cutting it off, I could easily stay and talk the night through but sleep surrounds him. It's a Wednesday, he must have work tomorrow. We exchange numbers. He tries to walk me back to my apartment but I shoot him down. I want to avoid any lingering at the door, as cute as he is I'd rather not get into it. Not tonight. Another night maybe.

Instead I head to my patio to spend the rest of the night alone. With my new liquid confidence my earlier frustrations seem far more manageable. Hotels will be fine to stay in till I secure a new place. It won't be that bad, but not what I wanted. I settle into my chair to watch the chaotic city that's become my home. The neon of the strip creates a unique brightness of the sky, filled with airplanes and helicopters passing over the distant stars. One light in particular catches my eye, faster and brighter than the others, it zips through the night then suddenly begins to descend down, down, till its light disappears behind the mountain side.