Writing
Nadirah Foxx  

FRISKY FRIDAY FLASHY FICTION

Happy Friday!! How are you?

Did that week go by fast or what? Before you know it, we’ll be looking forward to New Year’s! Well, as the year winds down, I’m taking a moment to assess some things and decide what direction I’ll go for 2022. No plans yet, but as soon as I have them, you’ll be the first to know!

LOVE STRUCK

Part Five

Jocelyn

I called Ronnie. If anyone would come to my rescue, it was my bestie.

“Hey, girl,” I said.

“Please don’t tell me you’re cancelling on me. I really could use a shoulder to cry on.”

Uh-oh. “What’s wrong?”

Ronnie sniffed. “Got a call from my boss. Budget cuts. I lost my damn job.”

“Shit!”

“My thoughts exactly. What the hell am I supposed to do for income?”

Losing one’s job made my issue seem rather trivial. Thanks to my mother, I didn’t have to work. I did odd jobs around town for spending change. Mom bought my house, so that was one less expense. She also covered all my utilities. Although I told her it wasn’t necessary, she arranged for a grocery delivery every two weeks. Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of my mother’s, but I appreciated her money.

“Hey, if you need anything, I got you,” I said.

“Thanks.” Ronnie sniffed again. “What’s going on with you?”

“I need to come to your place like now,” I said as I threw clothes into an overnight bag. No, I wasn’t thinking about my mother and her little documentary. El Mercury was notorious for being difficult. Failure to show up somewhere wouldn’t be unexpected, not even from me. “If I can stay for a few days, that would be great.”

“Of course you can, but what’s happening, Jocelyn?”

I sighed and plopped down on my bed. “Skeevy Steve showed up.”

“Again? What did he want this time?”

“Breakfast.”

“Huh?”

I spent the next few minutes explaining how he entered my home carrying breakfast. Grabbing my purse and keys, I headed for the door.

“Okay, that’s just weird. Yeah, come on over. You probably shouldn’t be alone. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

I hung up and shoved the phone into my rear pocket. After double-checking that the windows and doors were locked, I exited the house through the kitchen. Popping open my Miata’s trunk, I tossed in the duffel and then slipped behind the wheel.

As I backed out of the driveway, I had a weird feeling, like someone was watching me. I checked right and then left, but didn’t see any cars or strange men lurking about. Maybe it was just my imagination.

I cranked up the sounds and sped down the street toward the Pacific Coast Highway. Ronnie lived in Santa Monica, close to the Promenade. If I caught a good flow of traffic, a rarity in Los Angeles, I might make it to Ronnie’s condo in about forty minutes.

The entire time I drove, I thought about what happened with Steve. For starters, I didn’t recall sleeping with the guy. To be honest, I remembered nothing from the previous night. Whatever happened between us, however, was monumental enough for the guy to believe we had a future. Somehow, I had to set him straight.

I made it to Santa Monica in record time and even found a great parking spot in front of Ronnie’s building. I ran around to the back and removed my bag, but when I straightened up, my heart froze. Across the street stood a man who looked vaguely familiar.

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