Plain Jane

Rainy Days

My unruly, frizzy, curly red hair flew in my face, the New York wind and rain swirling around me angrily, whipping my umbrella back and forth uncontrollably.

"Jane!" I heard a familiar high pitched voice yell, Mandy.

"Mandy." I smiled a forced smile through clenched teeth, turning towards her.

"What are you doing out here, they said its going to be a horrible storm, the worse we've gotten in a while!" She exclaims. Her Barney's coat flaps in the wind and her blonde hair was sticking to her face in tuffs. I couldn't understand how she looked a mess, but still looked perfect. I had a splatter of freckles across my face, she had a perfect complexion, I was too short for my own good, and she was tall and model like, I was a nervous, clumsy mess all the time and she was cool and collected. It wasn't fair really.

"Yes well you see, I was late at work and they closed down the office early and so my ride left and they locked me in and so I had to take the fire exit, and I slipped down the stairs-" But I looked up in the midst of my babbling and Mandy was across down the street flirting with some man in a biker jacket. "And now I have no ride." I finished quietly. No taxi services were running right now and if they were they must have been on their way home because every time I tried to flag one down, they kept on speeding, probably driving faster.

I looked up at the dark sky, it was only five o'clock and it looked to be about midnight, the sidewalks weren't busy except for a couple of people running to their cars and the usual stragglers trying to walk home as fast as they could. I wouldn't even expect a mugger to be out here in this weather.

I walked a little farther down the sidewalk and stopped, looking around for any sort of cafe that could be open right now, but they all seemed to be closed down. Damn New York weather. A taxi raced by, splashing in a deep muddy puddle and soaking me to the bone, plastering my hair to my face and blowing my umbrella away.

"Argh! You have got to be freaking kidding me!" I screamed in frustration. Another car came racing down the street and I prepared for the impact of cold water again, but instead I cracked open one eye as an expensive looking car stopped next to the curb. It had darkened windows that were now being rolled down. My heart started beating faster and I looked around for possible escape routes, but I just accepted my fate of being kidnapped, because there was no way I was getting down the cobblestone alley to my right, in these heels. I could barely walk in them let alone run down a cobblestone alleyway, curse Darren for making me wear these.

"You look like you need a ride." Says a man who I could not see from where I was standing.

"Actually I'm perfectly okay standing here and freezing." I reply, smacking my lips together and rocking on my heels.

The man was out of his car lighting fast and I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for him to grab me and shove me in the back of his car.

"I don't offer rides to just any crazy looking red head on the side of the New York street, and I won't ask again, and I certainly won't stand here in the freezing rain waiting for your answer, so I suggest you get in the car and tell me your address so we can both get home." The man demands. I open both of my eyes as wide as they can go and glare up at him. But the witty retort I had come up with in my head left my brain as soon as I met his dark brooding eyes and saw his chiseled jaw and dark hair.

"I-I-I should probably- that would- yeah that sounds- I'll just get in the car." I stammer. Way too go Jane, act like a complete i***t in front of the hottest creature you've ever seen in your life.

"I don't understand your impossible stuttering so I would get in the car and shut your mouth before you further embarrass yourself." He says, walking back towards the drivers seat of his car. I follow quickly after him my blueberry colored heels making fast clicking sounds on the wet pavement. I slid into his car and shut the sleek black door behind me.

"I don't appreciate having a longer than necessary conversation with you, nor do I appreciate you getting my car wet." He snaps, blasting the heater. I shiver and put my hands closer to the heater, ignoring his rude remarks. "Also ignoring me is not going to get you to your house because I can not just telepathically know where you live."

"Straight ahead and then I'll direct you." I answer shortly. Who did this man think he was? Picking me up on the side of the road and then speaking to me as if I've done something wrong, when I wasn't the one that asked for the ride anyways!

"Your hair is dripping on my console." He points out rudely.

"I am aware." I was not aware.

"Well then why don't you fix the problem." He says through clenched teeth.

"Frankly I don't feel like it." I snap. You go Jane, you haven't stuttered once since you've gotten in the car, just don't look in his eyes and you'll be fine.

He slams his hands on the steering wheel and slams on the breaks, making my body fly forward. "Don't think you can talk to me any old way, I'm doing you a favor that frankly I didn't have to." He glares, turning to face me. I look up at his eyes and suddenly my knees feel weak.

"Don't you know the stop you just made is extremely illegal and dangerous considering if a car was behind you and you slammed on your breaks you would have been rear ended at at least 60 mph and-" He cuts off my babbling with his hand.

"I don't like excessive talking." He says, turning back towards his steering wheel and pressing the gas, making the car lurch forward.

"Well then you really shouldn't look at me because I'll either stutter or babble incessantly because your eyes make me feel as if I'm drowning in a sea of black and my knees feel like jello." I blurt out.

"Oh really," I feel him crack a smile for the first time. "I don't even know your name nor do you know mine and I already make you feel weak in the knees?"

"Jane Everson. I'm a reporter for the New York Times, I usually write their pieces on opinions of whatever someone special sends in." I introduce.

"I'm Ryan James and I own the trading firm on New York Avenue. I probably am the richest person whose ever been in your company, reporter girl." He says arrogantly.

"Well Mr. Money-Bags, you aren't because I've been in the same room as Justin Bieber, and I'm quite sure he's richer than you." I retort. "Turn left here. My building is the second one up." I direct and he makes a sharp left, pulling up slowly on the side of my apartment. The doorman is standing inside instead of his usual place outside.

"Well I can't say its been a pleasure Mr. James, I do hope I won't be seeing you again." I smile pleasantly and slip out of his car, his angry reply being cut off by the slam of the car door. I pull my pencil skirt down and strut as best as I can towards the front door, but I trip over a rock and fall flat on my face. I feel my face heat up and I stand up, turning around to see Ryan pull off. I hope he didn't see that, why was he still here and what was that rock doing in the middle of the New York sidewalk? I think angrily.

"Good evening Ms. Everson." John the doorman smiles. His face is always lit up with a smile and his rare green eyes contrast with his dark skin color, but his southern accent always makes you feel right at home.

"Hello John. Rough weather out there huh?" I joke, it took me awhile to work up the courage to speak to John, I'm always a bundle of nerves around everyone, usually quiet and soft spoken, except for when I'm writing my column. And when you were snapping at Ryan in his car. My conscience laughs at me, and I step into the elevator.

"That it is." He responds, already facing back towards the front entry as the elevator doors slide shut. I ride until it dings, the floor right below the penthouse, and I step onto the plush red carpet walking down the hallway to Apartment B, and unlocking the door. A fresh smell of spices overwhelms my senses and I breathe in deeply.

"Darren are you cooking again?" I yell through the apartment.

"Yes, tonight is Asian Fiesta!" He yells back.

"Isn't that Mexican?" I respond, meeting him in the kitchen.

"No darling, its Asian of course." He walks over to me, kissing my cheek and walking back towards the stove wearing the apron he always wears when he 'gets a stroke of genius', the same one I got him for Christmas that says; 'Honey, I don't swing that way, but I do send food that way.'

It's really cheesy but he never misses a chance to wear it.

.....

"Wait, wait. So let me get this straight, you got in the car with New York's hottest new bachelor and you made him angry? And slipped in front of him?" Darren burst out laughing, a noodle dripping down his chin.

"It's not funny. And what do you mean new bachelor?" I question, trying to sound uninterested.

Darren sees right through my facade, "Oh lala someones sounds interested. And anyways he just broke up with his long term girlfriend. Very nasty, it was all over the magazines, how could you not know? For a journalist you are quite uniformed." He tsks.

"I report on important things, like whether or not your boyfriend is cheating on you, what is the best route to go if your moving, things girls want to know. Maybe, someone has mentioned for me to put in my opinion on a celebrity feud but what is my rule Darren?" I ask.

"I don't report on things not relevant to New York city, and celebrity buzz is the main one." He says in a monotone.

"Thank you. Now why did they break up? Just for educational purposes of course." I assure, sipping my tea.

"Supposedly he was found in bed with another woman." He whispers like he's disclosing personal information.

"Oh poor girl! She must have been heartbroken." I fume, and empathize with his ex, I hate cheaters. I couldn't even stand to be in their presence.

"I guess that just turned you off of him." Darren remembers. "Well I was hoping my best friend would marry this guy and I could be the bridesmaids best man, but no your just too damn picky." He complains, getting up to put his noodles in the sink.

"Picky? I'm picky because I don't like anything to do with cheaters. Once a cheater always a cheater Darren." I follow him into the kitchen, arguing with him. He grips the counter and turns around to face me.

"Did you ever cheat on tests in high school?" He asks.

"Yes but thats differen-" I try to explain but he holds a hand up.

"People make mistakes, they do dumb things, they cheat. It doesn't make you a bad journalist if you write a s**t column right? So if a person cheats it doesn't make them a bad person, unless you're thou who shalt not be named." He counters, once he sees my expression.

"That was a great speech, but this is one I'll never agree with you on." I say, throwing my dish into the sink, making it land with a clatter.

"Your loss, now lets go catch up on Gossip Girl and go through your letters for your next column." Darren changes the subject, squealing like a pig.

"Yeah if you never did that again, that would be great." I laughed, turning around and making my way towards the corner where I keep my letters, grabbing a fat stack organized by date for my next column.

.....

Darren didn't end up reading any of the letters or helping me, he never does. Instead he threw popcorn at Blair and Serena as they made dumb decisions and I sat curled up under a blanket reading letters from snotty woman asking me if violet was really outdated for fall. It was, but I wasn't about to right an entire column based on that. I flipped through each letter sighing as they got more and more dramatic, but one caught my eye. It was addressed to me in scraggly scrawl like a man had written it, which was very rare. I immediately tore it open and read through it, my eyes taking in the almost unreadable hand writing.

Dear New York Opinion,

Recently I have found my girlfriend in bed with my best friend, the one I had trusted with my life. I thought I was going to marry her, I was planning on purposing, he was going to be my best man. She made me feel, well I thought, like I was actually human, like I had real feelings. I guess after the break up I realized she really wasn't the one for me and I was still a cold hearted bastard. But I miss my best friend, God I sound like a woman, but I refuse to even drive on the same road as him. I almost beat his face in with my fists when I caught them, but I'll save you the gory details. As much as I don't want to ask this question, is it possible for an angry at the world man like me to actually find love?

Sincerely,

Cold Hearted Bastard.

I read through the letter twice and then once more just to make sure I was reading this right. I couldn't quite understand why anyone would do this to any human being, cheating was despicable. It was unforgivable. And it was damn right heart breaking. I found my idea for the column. I grabbed my laptop off the coffee table opening it to a new Word document, the words flowing right from my finger tips.

Dear Cold Hearted Bastard,

I'm very sorry for your loss, your best friend of course, I would never feel sorry for you losing that b***h of a woman. No one deserves to be cheated on and no one deserves to lose their best friend. I'm very glad you wrote to me actually, since I didn't have an idea for a column this week and because I rarely get men that write to me. By the way I would improve your handwriting if I were you, it was quite hard to read. It makes me laugh that I had just had a conversation with my very gay and very opinionated best friend on cheaters, right after I had just met the most aggravating man I've ever spoken to, and then found out he himself was a cheater. I really regret even breathing the same air as him. Is cheating contagious? I would hate to catch that disease.

On to your question; is it possible for an angry at the world man like me to actually find love? Yes. The answer is yes. You can always find love, and expect it to pop up in the weirdest places especially with someone you would never expect. As much as I would hate to say this because, yes I too have been cheated on and it practically ruined my view on relationships, but even cheaters find love. Maybe its with another cheater and they cheat happily on each other, but either way anyone can find love and everyone deserves it. Hope this helps with your question and I truthfully hope you do find love one day sir.

Sincerely,

New York Opinion

I finished the last word, typing it off with my signature name and printing it to my desk at work. I was very pleased with myself so I decided to eat a Snickers bar and finish the rest of Gossip Girl with Darren who was very angry at Dan for some reason. He was ever the goof.