"In Which Reality is Blessed with Savage Friends"

(Pt. 2)

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4:45 PM

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"So, I met with the editor-in-chief named"-

"Margaux Delamare!" Tia breathes, savoring each name like they're Timo's homemade chocolate truffles."Tell me, is she as amazing and well put-together as they all say?"

Brows raised and eyes hardened, I mumble through tightly-pressed lips, "Oh, she's put-ta-gether*, alright. A real dragon lady who likes to spread terror and fear to everyone around her, dismisses them like they're nothing while demanding their respect like it's her god-given right. Oh, wait" - I snap my fingers - "she sounds a lot like my aunts. No wonder she felt so familiar."

"Ahh, yes," Tia mutters. "Continue, please."

"Travers sent her a draft of this story I'm working on. She didn't like it one bit. I had to show her another draft I made and she thinks, despite the immature structure of the prose and callow tone, it has 'potential'" - I air-quote - "So, now she's baiting me by having me participate in their biannual writing competition!"

I drop my head, face flat on the table, and silently huff. Just thinking about that evil smug look on her holier-than-thou face pisses me off.

Tia's face stretches into a wide dazzling smile, her hand pressed to her chest. "One of the amazing women I look up to told that to my friend. I could just cry. I don't think I've ever been proud to be called your friend."

Okay, ouch! I shoot her a dark look. After everything I've just said, that's the only thing she picked up.

"But the thing is, in order to qualify for a spot, I need to revise - more like potentially sabotage - the entire story and turn it into a romance novel, " I bury my face into my hands with a helpless groan.

No sooner after the sound of a pin drop that pandemonium erupts, and my friends are all wheezing from an endless round of laughter.

Tia wipes a tear from one eye, still shaking from laughter. "No really, Ave. What did she say?"

I frown, not understanding the absurdity in my statement. "That's just it. I wasn't kidding."

This sobers her up. "Blast it!" Tia curses under her breath. "Why, Ave?"

My jaw drops for the fifth - or was it sixth? - time today as I gawk at everyone in our booth.

"You" - I sputter - "act like there's been a death in the family, and I caused it."

Kiana raises her hand, misery coating her chocolate brown eyes. "If Ave doesn't cut it, are we gonna start hating on Pulse, too?"

I choke at my own spit and face her. "Of all these shameless and traitorous bastards that we call as friends to lose faith in me, et tu, Keke?!*"

"Well, it's inevitable" - Tamieke glumly says, stroking her pitch-black hair in sympathy - "good things have to end in some way. This is why we can't have nice things."

Tia, holding what seems to be Emile's Hermès handkerchief, daubs it to her nose and sniffles. "I don't think I can."

"Hey!"- I protest - "I'm still here, you know. Save the backstabbing for later, you heartless assholes!"

Tia clucks. "No offense, babes. But, you're not exactly someone who would be pegged as a romance author at a first glance - ever. And that's coming from a person who's been with you for years."

I scoff, crossing my arms. "Really? And, I thought you, of all people, knew better than to judge someone based on their looks. If I wanted the reversed version of a pep talk, I wouldn't have told you."

Kiana, the nice friend, sends me an apologetic look. "You're right. It's unfair of us to assume without proof. Any progress so far?"

I eye each of them warily, my shoulders squared. "Well, I did rewrite a few chapters. You guys want to read?"

"Want to read?!" Emile repeats skeptically. "Are you kidding me? Give it here!"

He makes a straight grab for my tablet.

I deftly remove it out of his reach, casting him a withering glare at the same time.

"Careful!" - I yell at him, hugging my precious baby to my chest - "this baby cost me an arm and a leg!"

"Henny" - Tamieke pats my shoulder - "you'll live" - and pinches the tablet out of my arms.

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"So-o-o," I start after an hour of nothing but training a tentative look towards my friends while ordering a series of food in their stead as payment for their tasteful critiques."What did you guys think?"

"The wisecrack cynic, with actions bordering on sociopathic tendencies, was really fleshed out," Joule remarks with an approving nod, his chocolate cake all gone and eaten - as always.

"And?" I ask expectantly, bopping my head. Surely, that wasn't all there was to it.

"That's it," Joule replies, licking some chocolate sauce off the pad of his thumb. Not a speck of crumb can be found on his plate.

I feel the first sign of frustration creeping in, I take a deep breath. "Overall verdict, please?"

Keke hums. "It's a romantic masterpiece all right" - I perk up at Keke's comment - "in a sense that it is not."

And then I took a deep plunge right into the sea of failure and shame.

"Rubbish, just rubbish" - Tia adds with a cutting swipe of her hand. Now, I'm drowning and struggling for oxygen - "please tell me you have backups to send to Margaux."

I clench my teeth with a stiff smile. "I don't need backups." After a long pause and a few skeptical glances later, I sigh. "Okay, fine. I don't have any."

"Somehow, it felt better without the romance," Kiana contemplates, leaning back to her seat. "It sounds as if it was written as an afterthought. Have you tried writing it without romance, at all?"

I groan."No, Keke. Because if I did, that means I just went back to where I started, and it wouldn't qualify. So"- I roll my sleeves to my elbows - " what am I missing?"

"There is no chemistry at all," Tamieke gets straight to the point.

"Or good sex," Emile inserts sensibly.

Jhett twirls a strand of his hair around his finger. "Everything is awkward and forced."

Tamieke raises a finger. "The male lead is boring as fuck. It's like you took this" - he gesticulates with his hand - "hunk of masculine beauty and gave him the emotions of an oatmeal. A sa-a-ad" - he shakes his head - "plain cold bowl of white-people oatmeal without even some nuts or sugar in it. "

Kiana stares at him in surprise, her mouth shaped into an "O'. "You got all of that in a single read? I can't even make up my mind with all the vague descriptions about him."

"It's like you don't even know what kind of guy your heroine wants or needs," Joule explains.

BAM! I slam my hand on the table. "What if she doesn't need a man? Ever thought of that?"

"Don't take it out on us!" - Jhett protests, back crouched and half-hiding behind Emile - "it's not our fault, your character's such an independent badass, the whole story can't be romantic."

I gasp in pain. "Ouch! Savages, all of you! You really are not one for sugarcoating. You just laid it on straight - like a knife through the heart," I theatrically repeated to thrust a figurative knife into my bleeding heart.

"Chile" - Tamieke rasps, snatching a couple of cold fries from my forgotten platter - "finding out our stone-cold cynical romantic is struggling to write a romance story and sucks at it, has 'wrong' written on the title."

"Besides, we are obligated to tell you. It's part of The Friendship Agreement,"* Jhett puts in, reaching out for my hand again.

"It's a pact,"* Tia corrects him while taking a dainty sip of her tea.

"Plus, you rarely suck at anything," Emile brings up, raising a handful of popcorn at me before swallowing them in one go.

"Except with processing human emotions and your white ass dance move," Jhett quips in a snickering tone and stops when he notices everybody - including me - glowering at him. "What? You were thinking about it, too!"

I roll my eyes, twitching my chin. "Well, excuse me if this is not your typical run-off-the-mill Harlequin-Mills and Boon novel."*

Emile cocks his head, inspecting his nails. "Don't look at me. Straight romance isn't my cup of tea."

"The thing is"- Tia strokes the rim of her lips - "you're a brilliant person. But romantic"- she twitches her nose - "you are not."

"Babe" - I hunch forward, my eyes at the same height as hers - "Trust me, I know my romance novels."

" Yeah, by reading," Tia specifies, stressing the major flaw in my argument. "Writing romance novels is a different story. You need to convince the reader to believe in this fantasy you're making, and the problem is?"

" I don't believe in real life romance or in the right guy," I grudgingly fill in the missing blanks in a low voice.

"Ding, ding, ding. I think she got it!" Tamieke announces, ringing a make-believe bell in the air.

I raise a brow. "But lots of romance authors aren't married or in a relationship."

"And thus, they portray unrealistic stories, that - in your words - poisons young maidens' impressionable minds with the disillusionment of attaining a storybook ending that, not even in the slightest, makes any sense," Tia rebuts, hands on her hips.

"You" - I raise my forefinger - "have a point. Damn it, and using my own words against me, too! How do I even incorporate romance into a book primarily not made for romance?"

I slump my head on her shoulder and groan.

Tia smoothes the gnarly waves of hair from covering my face."Why not base it on your own experiences - limited as they may be."

"Yeah, like a list!" Kiana cheers on.

I look at her, bemused. "A list?"

"You know" - she waves her hand in a circular motion - "a list of your previous relationships."

I nuzzle my face against the fuzzy ribbed texture of Tia's sweater. "I don't know what you're talking about. Also, aren't we getting off-topic here?"

"Avalon Georgine Ainsley Michaels!" Tamieke pops his tongue.

My face grimaces from his use of my whole name. Damn, friendship-privileges!

"Don't be an innocent vanilla latte* that I had this morning trying to change the subject," he wags his finger at me.

"And, don't pretend you don't have a master list of stupid exes," Emile inserts after him in a scolding tone.

I stare at him, hoping the sincerity in my eyes would get to him. "I don't have a list."

Brows furled, Kiana muses, "Sometimes, I even wonder if you've even been to the other side."

I sigh. "What side?"

"The Heartbroken Side" - she explains, twiddling her two fingers to resemble a pair of legs walking on her other palm as it moves to the opposite side - "the side where people who get dumped by the person they like."

Tamieke pats both her shoulders to stop. "But, since you're too pretty"- he grudgingly rolls his eyes - "to be dumped, let's just settle for the people you actually liked."

I look at him, brows folded together and lips pinched in a great show of sullen silence.

"Surely, you must've kept tabs on all the boys you have dated," Joule speculates, taking a loud sip of his drink with a bamboo straw.

I sigh, raising my thumb and starting to count. "First of all, I don't have a list, because, second, I never was in an official relationship."

"Sure, sugar. Keep telling yourself that, as if we're gonna believe you," Emile snickers, playfully smacking Jhett's upper arm with the back of his hand like it was some sort of an inside joke.

"Guys"- I straighten my back, chest out, and give them a 'come-on-you-gotta-be-kidding' look - "does any of this" - I gesture to all of me - "scream commitment, charm, humor, and the ability to flirt with any living thing?"

Tamieke shakes his head. "You didn't have any problem shamelessly flirting with a gay barista for a free coffee refill. Or, the time when a police officer detained you, or"-

I snarl at him. "I did what I had to do to survive caffeine deprivation. Besides, you don't see people from school lining the streets just to date me, which" - I tap my chin - "sums up the extent of my flirting ability."

Needless to say, it didn't help that the only people I ever dated were exchange students. It's like renting out an Airbnb. You get to do anything with this person for a short amount of time, and then, when the check-out date is up, you get the fuck out of there. No drama, no loose ends.

I see Tia sneak a sharp silencing stare at Tamieke.

Aha-ha! I knew it!

Tamieke snorts, not one to take cues from Tia. He leans over the table and sweeps the top of his hand across the underside of my jaw. "Chile, with that face, you don't have to flirt or have humor. It's even better if you don't say anything at all."

"Ha!"- I slap his hand away - "that is ridiculous. Not everything is about looks."

He tilts his head all the way to his shoulder, the ends of his hair almost touching his waist. "And, I'm Beyoncé. Wanna bet?"

I groan. I've had enough of this nonsense.

They said they wanted to know what I've been up to - fine.

But, butting in my work - oh-ho, no, bitch.

Yet, I can't - for the best of my sanity - explain why I bent towards him, both of my elbows propped on the table, and said, "You're on!"

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Wow, two stories in one week?

Can I get a what-what?!

Nah, just messing with you guys.

Okay, I'm gonna level with you: I had no idea what I was writing!

The dialogue was there - good! But, the narrative - man, that narrative - was big pain!

I probably never mentioned I'm not really a native English speaker. No? Oh, silly me! I assumed it was one of those unspoken things, one would immediately get.

Anyhoo! This was originally a one-long chap. But then, it dawned on me - when I was scrolling down my document - if I add up all the drafts for the scene, it was friggin' 13 pages long!

I couldn't let my reader/s - you - suffer a sore thumb scrolling up-and-down, your browser/app.

That's why, I decided to cut the pages to 3s (Yeah, I know, it's the best I can do!) and post the remaining 6 pages in the next chapter. A-a-a-nd, hopefully, you'll still be alive ( by that, I mean interested and not traumatized by the number of words in this story) to get to this part.

So-o-o, check-in from time to time, and fingers-crossed, I've already uploaded the next chapter, "In Which Reality is Recognizing what Love is - Not ".

See you, everyone, and stay safe!

P.S. You could say this is serendipitous that I'm posting this scene amidst the current situation - and that I miss my friends!

What are the things you missed doing with your friends? And, what are the things you wish to do with your friends when it's safe to meet together?

Post your answers in the comment section. Show your support for my story by tapping the Vote and Share button.

P.S. Scroll down below for a short sneak-peek of my next chapter: "In Which Reality Is a List of Reasons to Stay F*cking Single".

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*[F/N]*

Put-ta-gether - (Pun) a phrasal play on "put together" and "putta", a Spanish word for 'bitch'. Ave implies that Margaux is a bitch.

Et tu, Keke? - (Allusion) a phrasal play on Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar", where Julius Caesar uttered the phrase "Et tu, Brute" to his best friend, Brutus, who participated in his assassination.

The Friendship Agreement vs. It's a Pact - (DITCH: The Pact Reference) Tia corrects Jhett into using the proper word which is "pact".

Harlequin-Mills and Boon Novel - US (Harlequin) and UK (Mills and Boon) publishing houses are known for publishing numerous romance novels with various sub-genres, such as Tender, Desire, Intrigue, Sweet, Nocturne, etc.

Innocent Vanilla Latte - (In Tamieke's Personal Words ) compares Ave's action to a pure and naive caucasian female.

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SNEAK PEEK

"You're hopeless," Joule chuckles, slinging his arm around my shoulders as we make our way back to our booth.

Tamieke follows after us, stomping his feet in silent shame.

I stare at him in mock horror. "Don't you think I already know that?"

"Hopeless, but not doomed!" Tia announces once we reach them. "While those two were acting as the 'diversion'', Keke and I just came up with the list."

She even goes on to proudly present the alleged 'list', which was a paper napkin consisting of a bunch of names neatly and legibly written down in a formal cursive script - that was unmistakably so Tia - on its textured deep prussian blue surface.

"Ooh," Tamieke marvels at the paper, wriggling his fingers in excitement.

Kiana cheerfully claps. "We have managed to scrape up at least five people we know that you have dated for the past two years. Chances are, you've probably been in love with one of them" - she drops her smile when she sees the expression on my face.

She shows the list to me. "Or, at least, have been close enough to let them in your dark itty-bitty heart. We just need you to write what you've liked about them, and what you've felt being with them."

"And these are my choices?" I ask, briefly navigating down the singular column filled with the names of the transient characters from my not-so-distant past, inked in pretty cursive letters.

All right, 'pretty' was a complete understatement.

Seriously?! Is this even supposed to be a list of my failed attempts in dating, or a modern piece of calligraphic art on a table napkin?

Who the fuck casually carries around a white-inked pen?

She didn't even break a sweat writing this - which goes to show how sucky my handwriting is.

"Huh," I skim the paper the second time around, skipping over some familiar names before my eyes land on the random numbers beside them - wait, random numbers?!

I gape at the scheming duo. "You scored them?!"

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Copyright © 2017 Lei André