Logan Love Episode 1

"Finding the one voice that sticks out in the crowded streets of Donnel is a messy business..."
- Shannon Logan

I stood poised, mouth ready for the speedy talking, for that great sales pitch I had been practicing this morning in my underwear.

My eyes were quick to track down that one sales rep. That one I was going to pitch my sales to.

And ultimately, I failed. Sitting in my jeep, "thrown to the curb" in some sense; I reviewed what she had said... "No." How lovely.

I sighed yet again as I pulled into my space. Without thinking, I withdrew my keys, refusing to be thwarted by my ignition and promptly got out of my truck, boots sliding to the pavement.

And before I knew it, my feet had flown from under me, a man in a bright orange vest had magically appeared under me and I had somehow managed to straddle the idiot and stroke his netherparts, all in the span it would take to kick myself in the butt.

I quickly scuttled away, glaring at the buffoon, a blush rising in my cheeks from embarrasment. I was so shocked, so nervous, so flustered. Ugh who was this guy, sneaking up like that? I readied a steady stream of retorts, excuses and angry accusations, the embarassment quickly swamping my usually cool-headed demeanor.

The man stood, brushing himself off and hooking his fingers through his belt loops and then winked at me! Seriously? I've met some pretty "interesting" people over my twenty years, but this has to be a first. Just knocked down, straddled and groped by a barely-adult woman, and you smile and make grotesque kissy faces?

He offered a hand and I felt incredibly rude to refuse, but I didn't care at that point.

"Have fun?" His voice was masculine and a airy tenor, whispering sweet things into my ears. Quickly shaking my head, I brushed an emerald strand of hair from my face. "Your hair have a bumby ride?" He smirked in that arrogant way that only certain men know how. The anger that ran through my veins bubbled to my troat again.

Did I say anything to the guy? No. I just guwaffed at him, looking like an idiot myself.

My mouth was open, a thousand accusations and insults on the tip of my tongue and all I could do was look like a gaping chicken?

"What exactly are you doing here? Why did you run into me and why were you right next to my car," I demanded the answers. The orange-vest guy only smiled.

I managed to beat a hasty retreat into my small townhouse, leaving the Orange-Vest man behind. I locked my door and plopped onto my couch, holding a pillow close. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the palm of my hand. Today wasn't very productive. At all. I needed another job, and that boutique looked attractive. I guess not everything works out though.

I got up and stripped my sweaty clothes off. I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes yet again, this time it conjured up the man's face. Shaking my head I retreated to my bathroom to wash the day's dissappointments off and renew my positive energy.

The steamy wather rushed down my back, down my thighs and ankles to drip down the drain in a steady stream, taking stress and tension with it. I reached my hands up, rubbed the shampoo into my hair and then washed my face. I smiled and laughed forcefully, shaking more of the bad vibes. The washer maching was going at the same time, so occasionally I'd get a burst of cold water, but a little bit of irregularity is good for you.

No longer soaking, the summer day soon turned to night and I found myself inspired by my chance meeting with orange-man. I had started plenty of paintings, searching for inspiration, yet there were only a few great pieces that I actually finished. Those went to large copy-off painting companies who had distributed roughly ten of my pieces. Commercial america thought they were buying authentic European masterpieces and were instead getting my work. It was to only real way that I could pay for my house, though it dug deep when I had to give in to the consumer whores.

I tenderly stroked the lines of his face, his vivid blue eyes and his strong jaw. When I was angry, I hadn't noticed how attractive the man was. I smiled a little to myself, it all seemed like ages ago. I used the tip of my finger to smear paint running down his arm. Would I see him again? Did I want to?

Later on, after nuking a personal pizza I got the feeling that someone was watching. Even Ting Ting, my dog whuffed at the door once or twice. I chose to ignore it though after setting the burglar alarm after letting Ting out for her potty break.

I have to say though, I love this neighborhood. Well, this whole city actually. Donnel was in the middle of the American-French society and had beautiful architecture. Beyond the hill that blocked my view of everything mildly interesting, there were beautiful plazas, salons, stores and swimming pools. Donnel had a lot to offer teens, and I don't know how many times I have wished I had grown up here. And Crime was almost non-existant.

Some time around 11:30 I had dropped off and trudged to my bed, hiding my head beneath the soft violet duvet covers. I was sleeping peacefully until I heard the doorbell ring and Ting Ting go ballistic.

I grumbled, scolded Ting and shuffled to the door. Low and behold, it was Mr. I'm-in-an-orange-vest-that-is-all-sparkly-and-stuff-so-I-therefore-rule-the-world-and-can-go-around-tripping-innocent-people-up. I mumbled some more, flipped him something not-nice and turned. He pounded on my glass door and smiled widely.

The first thing I said as I walked outside was, "How dare you! I was s-l-e-e-p-i-n-g." I tried to slow the words down when he stared at me with that dumbfounded expression. He raised his eyebrows in an infuriating way. I fumed and waited for him to speak, to defend himself, but he only smiled and waited for me to finish. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Jerk." Dammit.

"Oh, but darling, I really needed somewhere to go, seeing as my best friend, erm, James just kicked me out of our aparment." As if that fake person existed, I decided to play along.

"Hmmm. Just one night?"
"Yes Ma'am."

"No."

I stalked back into the houseand slid back under the covers to get the image of him out of my mind. "What a butthead." Somehow though, the ordeal had left me especially tired and I fell right into a deep rem sleep.