Status: After a long (forced) hiatus, I'm back in full force!

Life on Mars

Chapter 1 - a day in the life of

*Eliza's POV*

My two o’clock lull has always been the worst part of my day.

And that would be two in the morning, not two in the afternoon.

Years ago, when I was still in college back in New York, I had the two in the afternoon lull. I could be in class, at my part-time job, or finishing a paper in my apartment – no matter what, my eyelids would start to droop and I could hardly formulate another word. Sort of like right now.

I pushed my desk chair back and stretched out my legs, groaning at the feel of my stiff muscles slowly easing, then stood up. I grabbed my empty coffee mug and trudged out of my office, making my way down the long hallway lined with framed photos and into the kitchen.

I frowned at all the glass and brushed chrome. It was exactly like the kitchen in the house I still keep back in Miami. For that reason, I hate it. But I’m far too lazy to do anything about it. I also happen to like all the state-of-the-art appliances. It suits my culinary background.

The background I got to tide me over until I managed to write a bestselling novel.

Exactly seven years and seven novels later, I am now able to cook at my own leisure. In fact, I could probably hire someone else to do it for me, but I hate strangers in my house. My agent, Holden Tyler, has tried to coax me into throwing launch parties at my beachside home several times, and quite frankly, I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count all the times I’ve told him to shove it.

He and my best friend Presley Gillespie are my only frequent visitors. They know where I keep my spare house key, they know exactly where to find rough drafts and final copies of everything I’ve ever written, and they’re welcome to anything in my refrigerator. After only two years of living in Los Angeles, I consider myself lucky to have at least two people that stand by me and are there for me no matter what. My first month here was a nightmare, and after several unpleasant events which I sarcastically refer to as “cultural awakenings,” I’d decided that even if I never wrote another decent book I would make it my life’s work to save myself from ending up like most of the women in my neighborhood.

I hate rockstars. I hate actors. I hate models. I hate men who drive fast cars and buy rounds of drinks for everyone at the bar. I hate the tans and the bleach blonde hair. I hate the ridiculously massive diamond rings that only serve to prove how frequently people substantiate love with money. I hate the one hit wonder bands and the pop singers that think flashing skin is going to provide career longevity.

I know. I know what you’re thinking – New York and Miami can’t be much different. But they are. I swear they are. If they weren’t then I’m absolutely positive I’d be sucking down Southern California life like my favorite wine.

But I’m not. I’ve merely learned the true meaning of aggressive driving and how horribly frightening earthquakes are.

The methodical ticking of the clock above the kitchen table distracted me from my thoughts and I glanced at it, grimacing when I saw that it was 2:30. Phenomenal. I just spent thirty minutes of my time reminiscing in the middle of my kitchen.

I poured myself another cup of coffee, switched off the coffeemaker, and sighed heavily as I turned towards the hallway again. Time to get back to work.

****

“Jesus, you’re drinking already? Aren’t you going out tonight?”

I looked up, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight, and frowned at Holden. Fucking sunglasses. They did nothing to block out the light. “It’s five o’clock,” I shrugged, glancing at my Bloody Mary. I folded up the newspaper I’d been reading and tossed it onto the table beside my plate, watching as he sat down across from me. “Besides,” I grinned. “I really wanted tomato juice.”

One perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose. “You could’ve just drank the tomato juice, Eliza. I mean honestly.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh and what fun is that? And anyway, this is dinnertime for some people.”

“Right, unless they’re vampires like you and they stay up all night and sleep all day,” he chuckled, pulling off his own sunglasses and placing them on the table in front of him. He slid his arms out of his suspenders and loosened his tie so that he could unbutton the first few buttons of his pale pink dress shirt. “So what the fuck?” He asked, rubbing his blue eyes with his fists. “I haven’t heard from you all day.”

“I’ve been working,” I said slowly, pronouncing each word as if he were dim. “And I only sleep until noon, asshole.”

“Whatever,” he sighed, dropping his hands into his lap. “So what’s going on? You almost done?”

He meant my newest novel. “You’re starting to sound like Beth now,” I pointed out. “She called me twice today.”

Beth is my editor. When I moved to Los Angeles I picked up a new agent, who tended to double as my publicist more than he liked, but I kept Beth as my editor and left her behind in New York City. She wasn’t happy about my move, but I’m pretty sure that’s because she dislikes New York just as much as I do.

“Well good for her,” Holden returned, his lips tight over his teeth. “I give her credit for being so persistent, but I highly doubt she’d put up with your bullshit if you told her to fuck off like you do to me.”

I vaguely noticed the sound of the front door opening and closing in the distance before grinning cheekily at him. “She’d probably just gape at me in horror,” I agreed. “But you seem to take it rather well.”

“You pay me too much not to,” he chuckled. “Plus I love aggressive women.” He winked at me and shot up out of his chair, presumably to retrieve his own drink. As my eyes followed him I saw Presley breezing through the livingroom. “Drink?” He asked her when they met at the open doorway.

“Yes, dear,” she smiled playfully. “Martini, extra dirty.”

Holden only laughed, stepping past her into the house. He was already at the bar and pouring their drinks by the time she collapsed into the seat nearest me, her green eyes filled to the brim with exhaustion.

“Canceling on tonight?” I asked hopefully.

She snorted and slouched down in her chair. “Fuck no, not a chance. I came for a drink and then I’m going home to nap. I expect you to be at my house around 10.”

I grimaced as Holden stepped back out onto the deck. Presley grabbed his sunglasses and slid them on, taking her drink from him and thanking him. He leaned down to sniff her head, made a face, and sat down in his own seat again.

“You smell like roses,” he told her nonchalantly.

“Must we go over this every time we see one another?” She returned. “I own a florist shop.”

“Yes, I know,” he nodded. “But if I smell your hair then I know what you’ve been working with all day. Am I right?”

She took a second to answer, and when she did she nodded curtly. “Yes. For a wedding tomorrow evening.” She picked up her drink and took a long sip, closing her eyes at the taste. “So are you coming with us tonight, H?” She asked him.

“No can do,” he replied smugly. “I’ve got a date.”

Both my eyes and Presley’s snapped towards his. “A date?” I squeaked. “With who?”

“None of your business,” he smiled. “We’ll see how it goes.” Then he turned to Presley and pointed to me. “Can you please find her a boyfriend? She seriously needs to get laid and a reason to get out of the house more often.”

I groaned, picking up my Bloody Mary and taking a gulp, then gave Holden an evil glare. “I happen to like my house and I don’t need a boyfriend to get laid,” I pointed out to him.

“Yes, but you’re also not a one-night stand kind of girl,” Presley countered. She turned back to Holden and reached out to pat his cheek patronizingly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Where are two headed anyway?” He asked.

“Either Area or Les Deux, but probably Area,” Presley answered.

Holden rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe how easy it is for you to get into those places…Most people in L.A. would kill to be you.”

Presley winked. “Hey, it’s only because I know all the bouncers and I give them great discounts when they want to send flowers to the whores whose numbers they managed to get. It’s not my fault everyone likes a good piece of ass.”

“Yeah but why even bother with flowers if it’s just about a piece of ass?” I questioned dryly. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

It’s not like I hadn’t heard this a hundred times before, but I was still waiting for the two of them to give me a decent explanation as to why most people on the West Coast seemed to have a backwards approach to dating.

“Because they have to at least make it look good,” Presley finally admitted in a monotone voice. “Everybody loves a good lie.”

“Sad, but true,” Holden nodded, taking a long sip of his drink.

I pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ear, looking out at the ocean for a long moment. The sun was just beginning to set over the water, and in the distance I could see the local surfers getting in their last swim of the day. I’d sat out here almost every evening for the last two years and watched the same people, day after day. I recognized nearly every surf board, every wet suit, and every bathing suit. I knew who brought friends and who were showing their kids the ropes for the very first time.

I’d tried surfing a few times, but I suppose it’s like most skills: if you don’t start doing it from day one then it never really becomes second nature to you. It’s why my bright yellow surfboard remains untouched in my office, propped up against the wall in the far corner, and why it’s become home to hundreds of post-its worth of ideas.

I turned back towards Holden and Presley, glancing back and forth between the two of them before speaking. “I will never have a boyfriend here and we all know why. And going to clubs that celebrities frequent is not going to help the matter. They’re the worst breed of human.”

“No, they’re not,” Presley chuckled. “And just because Holden and I have a twisted view of dating, which is complicated by the fact that you arrived here with your own twisted view already, doesn’t mean that good people don’t exist.”

“Precisely,” Holden grinned. “Anyone would be lucky to have any of the three of us.”

“Here, here,” Presley sang, holding out her glass in salute.

I watched sardonically as Holden clinked his glass against hers, then as the two of them patiently waited for me to lift my own glass. I shook my head and frowned, reluctantly lifting my glass and tapping it against each of theirs.

“To dating in L.A.,” I drawled sarcastically.

****

If I weren’t so practical, I would’ve already hired someone to drive me all over Los Angeles. I hate the freeway with an intense passion, and common courtesy simply doesn’t exist here. Everyone’s in a rush, everyone’s impatient, and no one pays attention to what they’re doing.

I don’t consider myself the best driver and I’ve never enjoyed it. In fact, I probably should hire someone to drive me around. I’ve got a short temper and it doesn’t take much to irritate me, and I’ve pretty much permanently had my middle finger hanging out the window for the last two years. Holden won’t let me drive us anywhere because he’s worried someone will recognize me while I’m flipping them the bird. Presley doesn’t mind – she thinks it’s hilarious.

I’d offered to drive tonight since I knew Presley intended to drink heavily. She and I are a different breed when it comes to alcohol. I usually never have more than a drink or two when we’re out, but she likes to let loose and lose her inhibitions. This is the primary reason I remain sober: I don’t want anyone taking advantage of her and trying to lure her out of whatever bar or club we’re in. I love her too much for that.

But I never mind watching her dance her ass off like an idiot. I almost got it on video once on my cell phone, but the lights were too dark at The Troubadour to really see much of anything.

I pulled up in front of her quaint bungalow just after 10:00. All the lights were on and I could hear her loud music blaring all the way from the driveway. I chuckled to myself, climbing out of the car and making my way up the front walkway.

I adored her house. It was so lived-in and loved, so wonderfully unlike my own. Vines crawled up the sides of the porch and flowers crowded the space in front. Every so often I teased her that if she wasn’t careful she’d end up covering every inch of lawn space with flowers, but the truth was that I wouldn’t even think twice if she did. She knew what she was doing and she loved it, and that was all that mattered. She had an eye for beauty, and more than once I’d joyfully helped her plant and replant various species of flowers and herbs around her property. She’d taught me to appreciate the scent of roses, hydrangeas and tulips, and I’d always found it ironic that it took me moving to an overpopulated city sitting underneath a thick blanket of smog in order to appreciate so many of the things that nature offered. It had made me consider moving back to the clear skies and waters of Miami more than once.

“Pres!” I shouted as I entered her house and pulled the screen door shut behind me. “Where are you?”

“Where do you think?” She shouted back, her voice clearly coming from the second floor. “Hey, green or blue?”

“Not green!” I returned, beginning to carefully to ascend the stairs in my three inch heels. “If you wear green not only will you look like you’re in a Saint Patty’s Day parade, but together we’ll look like Christmas.”

She stuck her head out into the hallway when I reached the top landing of the stairwell, and upon seeing me she nodded understandingly. “Right. You’re wearing burgundy. Very sexy, by the way. I love that dress. So…blue?”

“How about that gray one?” I asked, watching her dance towards her closet as I stepped into her bedroom doorway. “That one always makes your red hair look fiery…”

“You and your literary descriptions,” she chuckled, pulling the gray one out of the closet. She moved over to her floor-length mirror and held it up in front of her. “You sure it’s not too much? It’s backless…”

“Yes, and it looks phenomenal,” I reassured her. “You have a very pretty back. Besides, it’s a total eye-catcher for the men that love red-headed women.”

She studied her reflection for another moment, then unsnapped her bra, tossed it to the floor, and pulled the dress on over her head. I stepped into the room and adjusted the criss-cross gem-lined straps across the back, then went to her closet. I bent down and sifted through her shoes, picking out the pair that I thought matched the dress the best, and tossed them to her.

“Yeah…I think you’re right,” she nodded, fixing the cowl neckline. “This is the one.”

Yes, it was definitely the one. She looked breathtaking. “See?” I smiled. “You educate me about plants and I educate you about fashion. No reason not to be brave.”

Presley grinned at me in her reflection. “Speak for yourself,” she remarked. “You talk about me getting a man tonight, but what I really want to know is if you plan on trying to get one, too. Maybe you should be brave.”

I flopped down on the edge of her bed and waved her over. “So that I can screw around with some sleazeball that’s been around the block one too many times for my taste?” I returned. “I think not.”

Presley sighed, sitting down on the bed a few feet away. She pulled both her legs up onto the surface with her and stretched one foot out towards me, handing me one shoe. I took it from her and slipped it on her foot, buckling it up as she secured the remaining shoe on her other foot. “You make me sad, Eli,” she murmured.

My eyes shot up towards hers in surprise. “Sad?” I questioned. “How?”

She just stared at me. Clearly, she thought this was a stupid question.

“Pres…” I pressed. “I don’t understand.”

She threw her legs over the side of her bed again and stood up, walking around the corner so that she could sit beside me. She rested her hand on my thigh and sighed again. “Eli…you are so fantastic,” she whispered. “You’re beautiful, you’re brilliant, and you make so much money that you would never want or need anyone to take care of you. But Holden and I feel the same way. If you could find someone worth your time, and willing to love you, you could be even happier.”

“I haven’t found anyone worth my time,” I pointed out with sincerity, placing my hand on top of hers.

“Yes, I know,” she nodded. “But that’s not the point. The point is that even if you did meet someone worth your time, you would never even consider having a relationship with that person. For the life of me…I can’t understand why.” Her green eyes grew soft and she tilted her head slightly to the side. “I know I’ve asked you before but…is there something that happened back in Miami or New York that made you come here? Someone that made you swear off relationships?”

I smiled reassuringly at her and shook my head, just as I’d done a thousand times before. “No,” I answered firmly. “I swear there’s no secret love story that I haven’t told you and Holden. My parents just had a disastrous marriage and ever since I could remember…I’ve just never wanted to be married and have a family. I know that sounds crazy to you guys, but that’s only because you’ve never known anyone that feels that way. You’ve only heard about those people. But Pres…I’m one of them. I don’t think it’s necessary and I think it’s all far more trouble than it’s worth.” I looked away and stood up, turning around to face her and holding my hands out in front of me. “Can we please go now?”

A flicker of sadness flashed through her eyes, then she placed her hands in mine and let me pull her to her feet. “Are you a lesbian?” She asked with a small smile.

I burst out laughing and shook my head. “No. And I can’t believe it’s taken you two years to ask me that question.”

“What?” She shrugged helplessly. “It just occurred to me now, I can’t help it.”

She darted towards her closet again and grabbed a small silver handbag, waving me towards the doorway. I led the way out of the room and back down the stairs to the first floor. She disappeared down the hallway to her kitchen to retrieve her daily purse so that she could transfer what she needed into the silver one, and I went into the livingroom. I was just switching off the music when she stepped into the wide doorway, holding her arms out.

“I’m officially ready,” she announced. “Let’s get me drunk!”

“Okay, but do me a favor,” I began. “Please don’t drink so much that you make it utterly impossible for me to drag your ass out of Area, okay?”

“I can’t make any such promise…” She giggled, slipping past me to the front door. “But I will certainly try.”

I sighed heavily and jingled my keys as I followed her out the door. “Well I suppose I’ll take what I can get,” I mumbled.
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Well it's a new endeavor for me, so let me know what you think! Thanks for reading and commenting! ;-D