Designer Baggage 2

I was assisting my boss on an account for a wealthy restaurateur and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Starling.  They wanted to redesign the interior of their Queen Village Trinity.  The property had been rented out to an old woman and her seventeen cats for about twenty years.  She finally died, the cats were sent to a shelter and now they can charge up the wazoo to some poor sap willing to pay $2000 a month to live in a house the size of my first floor.  Since the house hadn’t been updated since I was in grade school, there was a lot of work to be done.  Like I said, the work is easy.  I have a natural talent for design.  This project was just huge because I only had experience redesigning one room at a time.  Although the house was small in scale, it still required much work.  I was willing to take on the challenge.  

Time flew amidst the goings-on at the office.  The next thing I knew, it was 12:15.  Oh crap!  I was supposed to meet Ryan so he can give me back my phone.  It’s actually not my phone. It belongs to the company.  It’s one of those PDAs A.K.A a “Crack-berry.”  It seems as if the whole world is strung out on that phone.  They can’t leave home without it.  Apparently, I don’t care too much about it.  If I did, I wouldn’t have left it at a stranger’s house.
“Kelly!” I yelled across the studio. She was my flighty assistant.  Good help was hard to find these days, especially for $12 an hour.
“Yes, Boss?” she replied
“I’ve gotta run up town to Blue Pearl Bath.  I need to order a vessel basin for the master bath.”
“I can do it for you,” Kelly said in her cheery voice. Although she was flighty, she was very helpful.  I needed to go myself since I had to meet Ryan.  I would be passing the store on my way to meet him.
“That’s OK.  I can do it,” I said.  “Can you please call a cab for me?  I don’t feel like walking.”  I could have walked but I didn’t have the time.  If this man wasn’t on CP time, I would be leaving him standing on the corner looking like a male hooker.  I’m sure he would have no problem picking up a John.  He had that metro-sexual look about him.  ‘Yikes.  Do you think he’s bi-sexual?’ I thought to myself.  ‘Let’s hope not,’ I replied.  I really shouldn’t be replying to myself.  It’s a sign of a crazy person.

I hopped in the cab and looked at the name on the window. “Akmond Abdul Jahari.” After a few minutes, I remembered him.
“Oooo Lady! I remember you from last night,” he said in his stereotypical Middle Eastern accent. “You look much better today. Last night not good look for you. Bad, very bad.”
“Right.  Thanks, I guess?” Great. Did this man take another shift or did he just work all night?  It’s a sad day when I’m being dished a compliment sandwich by a cabbie that smells of incense and curry.  Luckily it was a quick ride to my destination.  I cut the conversation short.

As I paid my fare, I got out of the cab and did a quick scan of the corners.  No Ryan.  ‘I guess he is on CP time,’ I thought to myself.  It was already 12:45 and he was nowhere in sight.  I decided to go into the Starbucks on the corner and wait for him while I sipped on a tall soy caramel macchiato. While I stood in the ridiculously long line, there was a tap on my shoulder.  It was him, and might I add, he looked great.  I didn’t let on that I was impressed by his blue and white striped Brooks Brother’s non-iron shirt.  It was very similar to the one I practically ripped off of him last night.  His slacks were meticulously pressed and his shoes looked as if he had just sat in the chair of the shoe shine shop at 30th street station.  This brother was HOT.  

“Hey. Thanks for meeting me,” I said. “Sorry I couldn’t wait outside.  The smell of over priced coffee beans beckoned me.”
“No problem.  Here’s your phone, and here is, well, you know,” he said as he fidgeted.  I could tell he was a little uncomfortable at this point as he wielded a pint-sized Saks Fifth Avenue bag which undoubtedly housed my Hanky Panky thongs.
“This is very embarrassing. I never do this type of thing.  You know, meet a guy, go home with him and let him tap the edges of my Nuva Ring.  And I NEVER leave anything behind,” I replied.  Most of my statement was a lie; except for the leaving my panties part.
“Don’t be embarrassed.  I’m glad I got to see you again.  I don’t usually do that type of thing either.  I guess we have that in common.”  I could tell he was lying, too.  A man that looked this good had plenty of women.  But there was something sincere in his tone.  A part of me kinda, sorta believed him.  I think I’m getting soft in my old age.  
“Do you have to go back to work right away?  I’d like to have lunch with you,” he said.
Think fast, Mia. You can’t have lunch with him.  You hardly know him!  That didn’t stop you from sleeping with him, though, plus you have to work.  
“That sounds great,” I replied, “but I have to get back to work.  Maybe next time?” He looked a little disappointed but followed up with a boyish grin.
“That’s cool, Baby.  Definitely next time.”
“Wait, what’s you number?  Just in case I get home and I realize you returned the wrong pair of underwear,” I playfully replied.
“I programmed it in your phone,” he said. Sweet.  I might never call him but I’ll definitely keep him in my arsenal of fine men.
“OK, great. See you later.”
“Bye.”

I watched him walk away.  He had a swagger that caught the eye of every woman and a couple of men in the place.  As my thoughts drifted back to what was left of my memory of last night, I was rudely interrupted by the short red- haired barista annoyingly asking me for my order. ‘Damn,’ I thought to myself.  ‘I was just getting to the good parts.’  I quickly placed my order and systematically moved to the pickup area.  I had to get back to work.

Designer Baggage

My head was pounding.  My heart was racing. What was I doing here?  I just wanted to have a little drink after work.  You know, just to unwind after a hard day.  I went to the bar and waited for my two best friends, Mr. Belvedere and Jose Cuervo.  So what, I like the hard stuff.  No fruity girly drinks for me.  Maybe that’s why I attracted so much attention.  I looked over to the end of the lounge and spotted a handsome man.  The smooth sounds of John Legend filled the dimly lit room.  He was young, dark (very dark) with thick hair and eyebrows.  I’m a sucker for thick eyebrows.  And eyes that were deep.  So deep you could get lost in them.  We made eye contact and naturally he came over and offered to buy me another shot of tequila.  Since he was buying, I wanted top shelf.  So I told the bartender to hit me with another Patron.  He did.  We drank.  The next thing I knew I was in a cab heading uptown.  Why, I thought to myself.  Why do I do this?  Then it occurred to me.  Since the breakup, my life had been nothing but work for the last 7 years. Concentrating on my career was first and foremost in my life.  There was an occasional boyfriend here and there; nothing concrete.
So back to why my head was pounding.  I realized that I was definitely too drunk to say no to this dark stranger.  I was in the apartment of a stranger and I started to get paranoid.  Where am I?  How did I get here?  Oh, that’s right; the cab driver Akmond Abdul Whatsey-Hoosit drove us to this luxury apartment in Rittenhouse Square.  Did this brother actually live here?  Or was he house sitting?

Blame it on the alcohol, but the sex was great.  So, naturally, I put the man to sleep, left him my business card and took the walk of shame out of his apartment at 3 a.m.  The doorman was gracious enough to call me a cab so I could go back to my townhouse in Northern Liberties.  I was stupid.  It was a Thursday night.  Well, now Friday morning.  I had to be to work in 6 hours!  Pull yourself together Mia.  You’ve done this before.  Yeah when you were 23!  I’m 30, right now, but I feel like I’m going on 65!

The next morning, I mean the next couple of hours, I dragged myself into the shower and imagined that I was washing all the stank off of me.  Granted, I did have fun the night before but I was getting entirely too old for this!  A quick brush of the mouth and comb of the hair, and I was on my way out of the door.  Oh, boy.  I forgot to feed Moodie.  She’s my Himalayan. Pedigree cats are known to be very high-strung which, I quickly found, was very true.  Moodie is definitely high-strung.  Some might even say bitchy, but she can be so loving and sweet.  I think her name suits her.
I went back into the house to get her Science Diet which is the only food she’ll eat.  I know $500 for a cat is preposterous but $20 for a tiny bag of food was utterly ridiculous to me!  Nonetheless, I buy it faithfully.  While scooping the food into her dish, my phone rang.  “Who the could this be at 8:15 in the a.m.?” I said aloud.  Since I didn’t get around to paying the phone bill last month, I had no caller ID.  They tend to take away all of your “extras” until you are down to a welfare line with the intent to make you give in and pay the bill that they laced with bogus taxes and surcharges, but I digress.

This would normally annoy me since I like to be in control of who calls me but today I didn’t mind.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Can I speak to Mia?”
“Who may I ask is calling?” I said.  I had to make sure it wasn’t the phone company.
“This is Ryan,” he said in a familiar voice.
“Ryan…who?” I was stumped.
“Ryan.  Is this Mia?  Remember we met last night.  You just left my apartment three hours ago.” It was more like five but I went with it.
“Oh, hey. How did you get this number?” I said. I knew I left my business card with my cell phone number and email address.  Was he some sort of stalker? The nerve of this guy hunting me down and finding my home number!  He could be sitting outside of my house right now peeping in my window.  I should call the…
“Well, Miss Lady, you seemed to have left your cell phone here when you snuck off in the middle of the night.  I saw that the last call you made was to ‘Home’ so I took a shot in the dark,” he said.  Oops. I felt like an idiot. Luckily I kept all of my thoughts to myself this time.  Usually my filter isn’t on so early in the morning.
“Well, thanks for calling me.  I can’t believe I left my phone. I’m such an idiot,” I said.
“Don’t beat yourself up.  It happens.  I had a great time last night.  I can meet you during your lunch break today so I can return your belongings.  You seem to have left something else.”
What else could I have left behind?  I know my mind wasn’t right when I left his apartment, but I was pretty sure I had everything.  I was afraid to ask. “Uh, what else did I leave?”
“Your underwear,” he stated nonchalantly.  I almost died.