A/NHey Lovelies…I been trying to get through my block, so I’ve been pulling out stories I started long ago, and never finished. This is one of them. Please enjoy. It is rather long for a shot, but I tend to tell rather long stories…lol…Thanks for taking the time to read and please enjoy. (Special shout out to @epiphanysweet76 who has been giving me encouragement through me funk….Thank you)….
“Hold the elevator! Hold the elevator!” The man shouted trying to catch the sliding doors. Michonne pressed the door open button to stop if from closing. The gentleman got on the elevator and blew out an exhaustive breath.
“Thanks. I’m struggling with all my stuff and don’t want to wait for the next ride up,” he said tugging two suitcases and a heavy coat in his arm.
“No problem,” Michonne told the man. They stared at one another for a moment before they looked straight ahead. “What floor are you going to?” she asked.
“The tenth,” he stated. Michonne nodded and pressed the button.
“Same floor as me,” she chimed. The man looked at her. Something about her caught his eye. He decided he would engage in a brief conversation as they ascended the hotel floors.
“Yeahhhh. I’m not even supposed to be in Detroit this long. The snow delayed my flight at the exact moment the convention ended.”
“What a coincidence. My flight was delayed. The snow ruined everything for me. I had to be back home tonight,” Michonne said with a bit of sadness.
“Important night?” The man asked. Michonne nodded her head.
“Yeah. Super important. That’s what I get for trying to squeeze a last minute business dealing in.” The elevator dinged alerting they reached their floor. The gentleman extended his hand out, indicating that Michonne could exit first. He followed behind her.
“I guess you can get caught up on overdue work…or sleep?” The guy suggested. Michonne shook her head.
“Nah. I’m going to that bar downstairs and getting drunk.” She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “Probably won’t, but it’s tempting,” she looked at the wall, then at her room card. She was in 1016. The arrow pointed to the right for those rooms.
“Heading this way.” Michonne started off in that direction. “Nice chatting with you,” she said before she walked off.
“It’s Rick. My name’s Rick, if it makes a difference.” He smiled and that’s when she noticed his blue eyes. How deep and sky like they were.
“Michonne,” she slowly said, taking him in. Rick had on a navy business suit, and pulled his suitcase along. A shoulder bag across his broad chest probably housed his laptop or important papers. Michonne gave him a sweet smile.
“Well, Rick. Hopefully this storm blows through so we can catch our flights. Have a good night,” she said with hope. Rick smiled once more and nodded his head.
“You too… Michonne, was it?” he asked looking her over. She wore a black skirt and black blouse with red flowers scattered about. Her shoes were red on the bottom and matched her outfit. A long, red Peacoat draped to the floor, covering her stocking clad legs.
“Yeah,” Michonne confirmed.
“That’s a pretty name.” He didn’t smile after his compliment, just kept staring. Michonne swallowed then pointed behind her.
“Thank you. Um…I should go.” He nodded and watched her walk down the long corridor, his eyes following her until she disappeared around the curve in the hall. Rick started to not completely hate being stuck in Detroit.
Certain things about the city he found…intriguing.
“Can I get another one?” Michonne asked the bartender. She looked around at the perfect little bar. The snow kept many away for the night, so only a few of the hotel patrons were inside it right now. The short bartender walked up to Michonne, her hair swinging side to side.
“That’s your fifth shot. You sure you wanna keep going?” Michonne looked at the pretty girl with a brighter shade of red lipstick and smiled.
“What’s your name?” Michonne asked eating some pretzels.
“Rosita,” the bartender said with a slight accent. Michonne grinned, the liquor she imbibed making her feel lighter.
“Rosita…I am stuck in this freezing city, in a hotel. I’m supposed to be at my son’s basketball game tomorrow. I feel like the worst mother in the world, and I’m trying to drink my pain away.” She picked up her shot glass and clunk it against the counter. “Pour until I pass out,” Michonne said.
“If you pass out, I’m not carrying your ass upstairs. No one is,” Rosita said pouring another shot. Michonne giggled.
“I’m a big girl. I can handle my liquor. And I’ve slept in worse places.” Michonne raised her eyebrows before she took her sixth shot and sat the glass down. Rosita just shook her head with a grin.
“You guys sell food here?” Michonne asked.
“Yeah. Burgers, fries, onion rings… other things. You want a menu?” Rosita asked. Michonne lit up.
“No, no. I know exactly what I want. Can I have a big juicy burger with cheese and a side of onion rings?” Michonne sat up on her barstool, a bit tipsy. “Yesss. That sounds great right now.” Excitement cloaked her as she anticipated her food.
“I’ll let the cook know,” Rosita said walking away from Michonne. “Hey, sir. What can I start you off with?” Rosita asked someone else out of nowhere. Michonne turned her head and saw the gentleman from the elevator. Rick?
“Scotch. Straight up,” he said. Michonne squinted her eyes. This man couldn’t be that sexy. Soft looking, curly coils. Pink, pouty lips….she got his attention.
“Excuse me. Rick, right?” she asked and he nodded.
“Yep, that’s me.” He smiled. “You weren’t lying about drinking tonight.” Rick noticed Michonne’s sluggish appearance.
“Wanted to warm myself up on this cold night,” she said. Rick grinned.
“Not used to the snow?” A smile crossed his lips when he asked he that. He noticed she still wore the same outfit, which wasn’t snow friendly. She had locs that were rolled into a french bun, and a deep red lipstick. The only thing he saw at the moment were those lips, which she kept in smile. He found her rather pretty indeed.
Michonne turned towards his direction more. “No, not at all. We maybe get a dusting of snow in Atlanta…and ice. I remember an ice storm that shut the city down for days. It was like the apocalypse started.” Rick raised his eyebrows.
“Atlanta, huh? I’m from a small town nearby called King County,” Rick added to the conversation. Michonne perked up.
“Wowwww. What a coincidence. So we missed the same flight, huh?” Michonne guessed as she looked the man over more. He took his suit jacket off and rolled up the sleeves to his white, collared shirt. She noticed this large vein running along his forearm. It should not have looked that enticing to her.
“Seems that way. The 5:45 to Atlanta, I presume?” he added to her guess.
“Correctomundo,” Michonne drunkenly said. Rick chuckled.
“Yeah. My son was expecting me. We were supposed to have dinner together tonight, but it can wait, I guess.” He seemed to fade away, but Michonne just thought she was drunk and reading into too much.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked hoping for good conversation. She found herself a little bored. Being cooped up in the airport, then the hotel, did that to her. Rick smiled, but sadness covered him.
“Celebrating his mom’s birthday.” Rick answered. Michonne cooled her thoughts on Rick. He was a married man. She saw the faint ring line on his hand, suggesting he hid it somewhere. He was probably looking for a quick affair, which she was not into.
“Sounds nice,” Michonne said evasively. Rick nodded, catching a quick glance of her.
“Yeah,” he added. Rosita brought Rick’s drink to him.
“Thank you,” he said to Rosita.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Rosita reminded. Rick smiled as she walked away.
He heard the voice of the woman a few seats down the bar. In only the few minutes he had known her, he wanted to talk to her. It was strange.
“Your wife is a lucky woman. I could barely get my last boyfriend to remember my birthday.” Michonne remarked, a tiny chuckle leaving her throat. Rick’s smile disappeared altogether.
“Yeahhhh…she’s a lucky woman.” His voice sullen, he took a swig of his drink. His eyes stared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Rick tipped his cup of brown liquor, looking inside the circular opening. A heavy breath left him. He heard the woman start speaking again.
“Well, my 14 year old son told me that I don’t care about him. That I put my job first. But me being me I had to squeeze this meeting in. I had to seal this deal. I promised him I’d be there for his game, but my luck is in the shitter right now. The weather probably won’t clear up,” Michonne joined Rick’s somber look. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. The tears wouldn’t come. She pointed her finger into the bartop, her speech slurring just slightly from her drinks.
“But I’m a good mom. His dad died when he was 8 and I’ve been doing it all on my own. These last few years have been stressful on us. I want to succeed in my job, you know, make more money. That means more time from home, and I know Andre doesn’t understand that. But it’s all for him. To pay for college. To get him a car. To keep us with nice things. It’s all for him,” she went on and on, Rick noticed. He found himself interested in her story, albeit it was similar to his own.
“Sounds like we have a lot in common. My son…he’s 19. Decided he wanted to quit school and join the army. The thing is, I think that he’ll do great in the army, better than he would in school, and my kid’s not dumb. Smartest man I know. I just…” he drifted off. He wasn’t as drunk as Michonne to spill his issues on her.
“Just what?” she asked standing to move closer to him. She used the edge of the bar to guide her down there. About four chairs separated them in the desolate restaurant, and she closed the gap to none. Rick shook his head.
“I don’t want to bog you down with my problems,” he said swallowing his drink. Michonne giggled. Rick looked at her, his lips slightly pulling into a smile. He decided he liked her laugh, even if she was a drunken lady right now.
“Honey, I’m the best person to tell your problems to. I probably won’t remember them in the morning.” She pursed her lips together into a silly grin, leaning into Rick as she started to chuckle. Her fingers lightly grazed his shoulders and he felt like he was on fire.
Just then, Rosita brought out the cheeseburger and onion rings Michonne ordered. He heard Michonne moan, and didn’t expect to feel a jolt down his back; in the pit of his stomach; in his upper thighs. These feelings were foreign to him for some time now.
“I’m about to devour this food.” Michonne danced a little in her seat, grabbing a napkin. “You want some?”
“Nah.” Rick replied. “I’m good.” Michonne blew out a deep breath and then took in swift air.
“Okay… but can you promise me something?” She remarked. Their eyes met briefly and he had to smile. She just looked so… Drunk… but beautiful.
“Can you not talk about how I’m about to look eating this food. And don’t try and put me on Facebook either. I know that way. My son tries that shit,” she said holding up her finger. Suddenly, she moaned again, rubbing her hands together, and anticipating the burger in her mouth. Rick held his hands up.
“I promise. I won’t snap any photos of you. And eat how you like. I don’t judge.”
“Greatttt,” she purred, picking up the burger. Rick watched her as she licked her lips, the red stain she had on them glistening now. The corners of her mouth curled up into a smile.
Michonne bit the burger and exhaled, her shoulders slouching as she savored the delicious, sinful taste of it. “Oh my goddddd. You have to try this,” she held the burger closer to Rick. He seemed surprised that she was offering her freshly eaten sandwich to him. Rick grinned.
“Oh, I’m alright. You enjoy your burger,” he told her. Michonne shook her head.
“Noooo. This is too good not to taste.” Her voice grew more and more excited. She held the meaty burger towards Rick. She seemed persistent so he obliged, taking a bite out of the other side. Surprisingly, Michonne was right. The burger was really good.
“Told you,” she muttered between bites, covering her mouth. Seconds later she bit one of her onion rings, groaning again. She motioned him over to her. “Rick. Here. Don’t even argue with me. Try one of these.” He tried to take it from her, but she fed the greasy onion ring to him.
“Good, right?” she persisted. Rick had to agree, she was right again. She ate the other half of the onion ring, dancing in place once more. Clearly the woman was drunk, but she proved to be good company.
Her company was nice indeed.