***
Harlee had a bad feeling when she woke up this morning. Her temples ached like she’d chugged back three White Russians and seven Sex on the Beach’s. Days like this rarely came, but when they did, it knocked her off her feet. Then she looked in the mirror and puffy eyes showed back at her. She had been crying in her sleep again but it went unnoticed this time. Her asymmetrical hairstyle was in a disarray of lengths and directions as if someone had tossed her salad the night before but when she looked back at her bed, no one was to be found. Well it was another new day. It wouldn’t hurt her pride to boss some folk around. Reaching for her phone to call Jaden, Harlee slid off her pajama shorts. There was no phone under her hand though.
Panic set in immediately and as she dropped to her knees in hopes the apple would be safely forgotten on the plush carpet, her brother walked through her bedroom door—uninvited.
“So why in the hell are you wearing Saturday panties on a Thursday afternoon?”
“Keith”, how did you get in my house?—
“Wait! What did you say?” Harlee continued.
“What do you mean, what did I say, sis? I asked why in the hell are you five days behind on your hygiene calendar? That is not like you at all!”
“No! Not that you twit! And for your info, I was in favor of the color. Last night I was stuck on the color turquoise and voila, my Saturday dungarees just so happened to be said color. Anyway besides that, did you say it was Thursdayafternoon?”
Keith looked at his Evo then down at his sister. “Umm, yup! It’s 1:43pm as we speak, hence the af-ter-noon statement. You okay sis?
“No I’m not okay! I was supposed to be at work for eight this morning. Now it’s almost two o’ clock in the blasted afternoon and I haven’t even brushed my teeth. Jaden must be helpless without me.”
“Harlee, aren’t you the senior editor? You should have all right to sleep in late.”
“Ugh!” she screamed. You’re just like a man, Keith!”
“That I am. Sorry I couldn’t turn myself into a flustered female like yourself.”
“Get Out,” Harlee screamed and before she could get up off her knees to aim a figurine at him, her brother had already shut the door.
“Oh! By the way,” Keith said behind the closed door. “Are you still planning on transitioning your hair back to its natural state?”
“Why?” Harlee asked warily.
“Well I saw this young lady on the train today and her hair was looking well put together while at the same time looking…free. Yeah, free is the word.”
Sigh…”You’re still such a kid, Keith. Always tryna put his hands in random girls’ hair.”
“Hey! I may still be in my mid 20’s but I’m no kid. Her hair just reminded me of…black mashed potatoes.—
“Ha ha ha! What did you just say? Have you been drinking that Four Loko again Keith?”
“I had some last night, but that doesn’t matter. Don’t you remember your own hair? Your hair used to remind me of mashed potatoes. It was gorgeous!”
“Well, sadly no. And if you don’t mind, I’m running late as you can see.”
“Okay, but I’m telling you sis, you’d look great transitioning back. I should’ve gotten that woman’s number too. And guess what, she was reading a classic. Mom’s favorite books. The one she named you after.”
“Harlequin?” Harlee shouted as she roamed around her room looking for her missing phone.
“Yeah. Those damsel-in-distress novels.”
“Ha ha, very funny Keith. Now go make me some tea.”
“Okay big sis. Whatever.”
It was the fastest, Harlee had ever gotten dressed. Forgetting all concern for a fresh shower, she slipped on the first suit her hand touched in her walk-in; a navy blue tightly altered three piece. Happy about her random selection she matched the ensemble with her matte Manolo Blahnik leather Mary Janes.
Finding her apple iPhone under her satin pillow, she could only do so much as pull the sheets up to the top of the bed and plug it into its charger for the five seconds she’d be in the house. No time for fancy making of sheets and remembering that her car was still in Joe’s shop four miles away, she grabbed a pair of leather gloves to hold the dirty train cart rails with. Those could always be cleaned but germs on skin would have a long-term affect.
“Where are you going? I made the tea,” Keith yelled after Harlee’s racing body as she dodged out the door.
“I’ve got a lot to catch up on, Keith. Sorry I couldn’t drink your luscious Chamomile.” Then she was out the door and through her front gate.
The comfortable cushion of her Blahnik soles pounced the pavement as she crossed the street into the subway station and as soon as she got to the bottom of the stairs a train was pulling in. Must be sheer luck, she thought. It was empty as well and thank god her purse had make up and a comb to recreate her sophisticated façade. Taking a seat in the middle of the cart, Harlee pulled out her foundation and lightly applied it to her face, followed by concealer to erase the dark circles from under her eyes. When she had neutralized her face and neck she moved on to her hair; something she never had to worry about. Pulling out a foldable bendy comb, she quickly swiped through the asymmetrical bob just three times. Creating a bob was no problem with creamy crack dancing around in her scalp’s follicles.
Wetting her fingertips with a swab of spit, she curlicued the loose strands by her sideburns and smoothed down her edges. And people say creamy crack is a sin. Sorry girls, but it’s my savior. Harlee relished in the thought that she could still do her hair in a few seconds on a moving train, while her girlfriends, mostly natural, had to wake up extra early to do a considerably pleasant hairstyle. She would never get tired of perms.
The doors closed from the present stop and in walked a middle aged man wearing a Starbucks hat. Usually Harlee wouldn’t give him a second thought but this guy was gorgeous. She looked him up and down then saw what seemed to make the day all the more ironic. In the man’s hands laid a Harlequin novel and while she put her comb away, she could only think of sitting there looking from book to man. Checking which stop she was at, Harlee quickly turn around and looked through the train windows. Nowhere close, she thought. Now she’d be infatuated with this handsome, Harlequin reading man. Looking over his physique, she liked what she saw; a medium build and very strong arms. But damn! That Starbucks hat! Please don’t tell me he works there.
“Well so what if he did’”, she heard herself saying out loud.
The middle aged Harlequin reader looked up in her direction, and smiled a courteous set of teeth. Harlee smiled back nervously and wondered why she had bit her tongue all those other unnecessary times. Now would’ve been perfect timing.
“Did you say something,” the man asked Harlee.
“Oh! No… just talking to myself.” Oh God! Now I sound like a maniac.
“Oh. Okay. Ummm do you like Harlequins, Miss? I noticed you checking out the cover.”
Harlee was astonished. His voice was so smooth and subtle. It matched his sculpted face perfectly. Please don’t let him be gay God!
“Well actually, I edit them.”
“Oh really? You work for Harlequin? So can you please tell them to change up the schemas. Everything is pretty much the same except their nationalities and responses.”
Harlee laughed at this. “I am not sure I can promise you that but I do agree with you. I actually got a job there because of my mom. She named me after the house because she was infatuated with them and ever since knowing that, I felt like it was God giving me a sign; a career path.”
The man looked at her for a few seconds.
“So your name is Harlequin?”
“Harlee, actually.” Harlee laughed at this random conversation.
“Hmmm…that’s a nice name, Harlee. My name is David.”
She had two more stops to go and she was not happy.
“Nice to meet you, David. It’s rare that I speak with anyone on the train.”
“Oh! Well I do it everyday of my life, Harlee. Well not everyday but I’m guessing you catch my drift.
“Yes you’re very friendly, if I may say.”
“Thanks.”
Then the awkward silence occurred. Something she always ran away from. So she continued.
“So—,” they both stated at the same time.
They stopped to look at one another then laughed out loud.
“Maybe we can continue our conversation sometime, Harlee”
He is bold, Harlee thought. “Sure, why not,” she heard herself say.
They exchanged numbers and David promised he’d call. Reaching for the apple in her double breasted trench, she began to write a mass email. By the time she exited the station, she’d have service to send it.
To All This May Concern,
Did you all enjoy not having my voice up your asses? Well the solitude is about to end. Sorry! I’m feeling extra peppy today!
Ronnie: Cancel my 3:00 appointment with Ezra Stokes.
Maxwell: Leave my key on my dining table. You should know better than busting into your sister’s house.
Cierra: Pick me up two White-Chocolate Mocha’s on your way in; One Frap, one Latte.
Nali: You’re FIRED! LOL.... Just playing. Get Marco on the phone. I’ll be up in 7.
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