Cursive - By Phoebe Lane Page 0,3

and gently knocked on it.

"Lana?" Aislynn asked the beautiful blonde woman who opened the door. She was in her late forties, dressed in a tailored business suit, high heels, and flawless barely-there makeup.

"Hi, Aislynn. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Come on in," she said and motioned her inside.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me."

"Oh, I can never say no to Dane. He can be charmingly persuasive, as I’m sure you already know."

Aislynn’s friend Dane had called in a favor and convinced Lana to help Aislynn through the writing and editing process of her first novel.

"Yes, I do know. In any case, thank you again for taking a leap of faith on my project."

"Well, you did a great job with the first few chapters, and the outline of the story shows great potential. It really wasn’t a hard call to make," she said with a smile.

Lana’s words set Aislynn immediately at ease and helped her slowly shake off the nerves that had been stirred up by her encounter with Christopher. "All right, how about we order some drinks and snacks? I just came back from a lunch meeting with an author, but the food at the restaurant was dreadful."

"Sounds like a plan," Aislynn said with a smile and another deep breath.

Between coffee and talk of her novel, Aislynn was able to put Christopher's sighting completely out of her mind, albeit temporarily. If there was something Aislynn was great at, it was compartmentalizing stressors.

Aislynn focused on adding all her upcoming meeting times with Lana to her iPhone calendar as she rode the elevator down to the lobby after her meeting. Distracted by the task, she failed to notice the elevator had stopped a few floors down, and that of all people, Christopher had stepped in.

"Aislynn?"

Fight-or-flight?

You’re stuck in a moving box hanging from steel cables. There’s no room for flight.

"Christopher." Her mouth became so dry that she could hardly make the word out. She felt angry that he had found her once again and she hated her body for reacting to his presence.

He has said one word to you. Just keep it together, she chanted in her head.

"You look well. It's really good to see you," Christopher added.

Aislynn refused to look at him, but she could still see his reflection on the polished metal of the elevator walls. She was anxious about being so close to him without an easy escape.

"No response?" he challenged.

"You know how the saying goes. If you have nothing nice to say…" Aislynn paused. "I'm sure you're familiar with the rest of the expression. Or, on second thought, maybe not." Christopher just stared at the side of her face with a frown on his face.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked, finally looking up at him. He still looked like the old Christopher. Handsome. Intense. Polished in his dark business suit. My Christopher.

"Umm…business trip." Christopher had never been one to hesitate, something Aislynn found odd.

Ding. Fight-or-flight?

Flight.

"Goodbye, Aislynn," she heard him say over the rapid clicking sound of her four-inch heels on the marble floor of the hotel lobby.

Langley was a beautiful wine bar conveniently located within walking distance to Aislynn's new apartment. No need for a designated driver if the girls ever overindulged. The bar was decorated in warm browns and plums, with exposed wood beams on the ceiling, modern furniture, and perfectly executed lighting. Not that Aislynn had any expertise on the matter, but the place just felt comforting and inviting without being pretentious.

She sat at the bar to wait for Ellie and ordered a glass of Chardonnay. She was focused on answering another text from her mom when a man approached her.

"Hey, how are you?" the man asked with noticeably slurred speech, the stench on his breath nauseating her.

"Hello," Aislynn responded curtly, not even looking up from her phone.

"So, come here often?" he said, trying to move his stool closer to her and almost falling down with the maneuver.

"Can I help you with something?" Aislynn asked, finally putting her phone down and hoping her annoyance was not only noticeable to him, but to the two men surveying the scene from behind the bar.

"Sure thing. How much?"

"Excuse me?"

"How much do you charge?" he attempted to whisper, but failed miserably.

What the hell is this? I'm giving off a whore vibe? And here I thought this dress was pretty demure and sophisticated.

"The real question is how much are you willing to pay?" Aislynn challenged back, deciding to humor herself and the situation.

"I can do six hundred if