chapter 3

                              

I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I readied for my date. Nigella had worn me down, just as I knew she would but eventually I relinquished my thoughts of negativity and determined that I was going to have a good time.

                               

Just as a precaution, I Googled Declan St. James, for my own edification, and I audibly gasped at the sight of him. He was as close to immortal perfection that I'd ever seen.

                               

Even while I was staring into his icy blue eyes, I felt him calling to me. I shook my head, dispelling those crazy feelings and chalking them up to the fact that I hadn't been anywhere near a man, romantically, in over a year and it was simply my womb calling out to me through the cobwebs.

                               

Nigella completely assured me that he would never hurt me, having been hurt himself, he knew where I was coming from as far as the trepidation that was felt by accepting a blind date.

                               

"God, what am I, sixteen? Christ, I feel like I'm back in high school" I scolded myself as I finished up my appearance. Totally satisfied and convinced that I did in fact look hot, I left my loft and jumped into my only indulgence since becoming a famous author, a 1976 Pontiac Trans Am, complete with the gold bird on the hood. She was my pride and joy.

                                

Through our emails, Declan had left the restaurant choice up to me and having a certain comfort level with Yvonne's, I gave him my selection. He never gave any indication that he was okay with my choice, other than he would make the reservations.

                               

He kind of struck me as cold and aloof, but I was willing, because of Nigella, to give him a chance, but if he f*cked it up, I was out of there, I didn't care who saw or heard what. I wasn't going to be beneath a man ever again.

                               

I arrived with six minutes to spare, valeting my car, and getting many looks from the young men who did car parking as a way to make extra money while working their way through college.

                               

Brad, a young man that I had become friendly with, greeted me first because he wasn't intimidated by me and I tossed him the keys and threw out the standard "Don't scratch her, Brad." Knowing he loved her almost as much as I did and wouldn't mistreat her.

                               

I was greeted by the hostess, Samantha, Susan, sh*it I was horrible at names but hid it well under a hug and kiss to her cheek as she let me know my party had already arrived and was waiting for me at a reserved table.

                               

I followed her to the table when my eyes caught sight of the man himself, Declan St. James, in the flesh and looking very...oh my God.

                               

It's true that I wasn't prepared for just how good he looked in the flesh, I mean it's true what they say. A picture often does not do people justice and in his case, this was the truth.

                               

As soon as we arrived at the table, I frowned immediately because not only did he not look up and even acknowledge my presence, he didn't even stand.

                               

To say I was thoroughly embarrassed would have been the understatement of the year, but I smiled threw gritted teeth and sat down in the chair that had been pulled out for me.

                               

"Hi, I'm..." was all I got out before he threw up his pointer finger, telling me silently not to say anything while he busied himself with his I Phone.

                               

Furtively I looked around, hoping that no one saw what was going on and much to my relief, people were going about stuffing their faces with over priced and very rich foods, talking about how their shopping day didn't pan out and the local nail salon gossip.

                               

I immediately hated being there and sat for a total of six minutes and thirty seconds before my pissy b*tch took over and I muttered "F*ck this sh*t", got up and started to walk out.

                               

On my way out, I was recognized by several tables and asked for my autograph, as I graciously smiled all the while inside I was crushed and dying from humiliation and being hurt more than I could voice from how I'd been treated.

                               

When I finally reached outside, I gulped in a lung full of fresh air, holding the tears at bay while waiting on Brad to bring my car around.

                               

I took a folded up hundred and placed it in Brad's palm, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. "Ms. Langston, are you okay?" He was truly concerned and that is one of the many reasons that had Brad been a little older, I would have gone out with him instead of that self-serving, narcissistic as*shole sitting inside.

                               

I smiled at him through the tears that I couldn't stop now and said "Thanks Brad. I will be. I'll see you next time."

                               

Throwing my purse into the passengers seat, I fired up Rammstein Du Hast and peeled from the parking lot, counting the minutes until I would be home, in my tee shirt and sitting on my balcony vaping;  a vaporizer full of cannabis oil. Thank you, Dr. Webster for actually doing something helpful for me.

                               

Thankful I had finally made it inside my loft, I broke down, sobbing like a teenage girl whose boyfriend broke up with her at prom.

                               

I just left my clothes where they fell and grabbed my sleep shirt, throwing it on, I went straight for my desk and dug out my Box o' Dreams, that's what I called my medicinal cannabis oil container.

Almost as soon as I stepped out onto my balcony and lifted the vaporizer to my lips and inhaled, my phone starting going off like the Bat phone. I knew it was Nigella but I wasn't sure if I wanted to even talk to her.

                               

But then I realized, it wasn't her fault that the as*shat had just crushed my will to live was probably a totally different jerk at work.

                               

"Nigella" I sobbed. "I'll be right over, darling and I'll let myself in. Just hang on" Nigella said softly.

                               

I nodded like she could see or hear that and hanging up, I tossed the phone onto the coffee table and watched it bounce onto the outdoor sofa.

                               

Luckily by the time she got there, I was well on my way to tripping the lights fantastic and all I did was lay in her arms and sob, wearing myself out and falling asleep.

                               

I wouldn't find out until the morning that she had her driver come up and help her get me into bed. She stayed for a while, left me a note to call her when I woke up and then she left.

                           

I knew I was going to feel like sh*t in the morning and just this once, I was calling in.