3
736 Words
BAILEY WOKE TO a commotion. She squinted at her clock. It was three in the morning. With a sleepy groan, she pulled a pillow over her head, going back to sleep.
She could sleep through almost anything.
Besides, she needed to sleep. Today was Monday which meant her Publisher would be knocking down her door.
Halfway through Find Me, her latest novel, she got stuck. As a best selling author with a release date, she was in s**t load of trouble of she couldn't get her plot off the ground.
Turning of her brain she slept.
A few hours later, someone was banging on her door. Kathy Goldberg was a unique woman. She was always smiling, so her smiles all meant something different.
She had a happy smile. An annoyed smile. An angry smile.
Bailey didn't have time or patience to deal with her. Not to mention her public relations guy Tony was coming by.
Today was going be a horrible day.
She hopped in the shower, brushed her teeth threw her hair in a bun. She knew Kathy wouldn't leave anyway.
After she got dressed she opened the door, letting the middle aged lady in.
"Bailey, darling!"
Bailey hated the term darling.
"Hello, Kathy." She sighed tiredly.
Kathy sipped her coffee, her pantsuit not the least bit wrinkled as she texted away on one device to the other.
"You're release date is three months away, and I don't have a manuscript."
She knew that, Bailey wanted to groan.
"I'm working as hard as I can." She said instead.
Kathy glanced up at her with a foreboding smile. "Doing the best you can is not enough."
She knew that, she wanted to scream.
"It takes at least a month to edit, and the cover isn't done."
Bailey wanted this woman out of her house.
"I'll work harder, Kathy. But I need concentration."
Nodding dubiously, she power walked towards the door, pausing at the threshold to regard her pensively.
"You have till next month to submit a good manuscript."
Bailey's manicured nails scratched the wood of the door as her hand clenched around the door frame.
Plastering a smile, she nodded, trying to ignore the threatening tone her agent used.
"I'll do what I can."
Her heart fluttered as the woman walked away. Sighing heavily, she bit her lip angrily, closing her eyes.
When her eyes open the locked on twinkling hazel ones. Suddenly her belly was doing barrel rolls, acrobatics worth of the best circus.
Spencer smirked at her, his brows raised in question.
His chest was bare, tattoos beckoning her to let out her inner slut.
"Hey Little One."
Letting her eyes drift over his form, broad chest, defined muscles, the V leading into his shorts.
Damn.
"My name is Bailey," she said, just to say something.
He chuckled folding his broad arms over his chest. "I know Little One."
"Why are you here?"
"I live here, Sweetheart."
Bailey nodded, not knowing what else to do. "Okay well. Bye then...Spencer."
He grinned almost boyishly. "Till next time Little One."
Bailey ducked behind her door, closing it. Putting her hand on her fluttering heart she slid down the door.
Holy Hell. Spencer moved in across from her. She frowned. She lived in a pretty pricey apartment complex. She wondered what he did?
He looked like a Fighter, and as far as she knew, street fighters could make a good amount of money...
Things were going to change, she could feel it.
CYNTHIA STARED at the man in front of her, not recognizing him. Maybe they were together too long. They used to have fiery passionate love and now... Now the fire had burnt out.
"Maybe," She started, "Maybe we should just call it quits."
Marc paled, his fight seeping out of him. "You want to give up?" He asked quietly. "Just give up on us?"
"No, but I'm tired of fighting about it. Let's face it; we don't fight for our love. We fight about it."
Bailey sat back with a grin. Oh she was back in the game. Her hands flew over the keys, typing out heart-wrenching twists.
Her body hummed with a special kind of magic as she churned out chapter after chapter. She was on a roll—she could finish by next week!
Her spirits high, she felt a sense of elated calm fill her.
Until there was a knock on her door.
- Writer
