The Parking Space Read online

  “Well, I didn’t exactly plan on leaving the church like this.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. Ben’s taken care of everything. Let’s just get you to our house and out of that dress.” She eyed the champagne bottle. “Care to pour me a glass?”

  I lifted the bottle to my lips, chugged a few more gulps, and then shoved the bottle toward her, holding it in my outstretched hand.

  “Why bother with a glass?”

  TWO

  CURSE YOU, LISA. How in the world did I ever let you talk me into this?

  My napkin lay shredded into hundreds of little pieces on the café table. The anxiety that had clawed at my stomach all day had now manifested into the mass murder of the layers of cotton paper—an innocent victim harmed as I sat in the restaurant waiting for Travis, my blind date.

  A blind date that has obviously stood me up.

  “Here’s your check and I’ll be your cashier, when you’re ready.” The server smiled as she grasped the stem of the empty wine glass sitting next to the pile of fluff.

  I laid down several bills on top of the thin slip of paper as I slid from the seat, nearly pulling the chair over in my haste.

  “I don’t need any change.”

  “Well, thank you. I hope you have a great rest of your night.”

  “You’re welcome. And you, too.”

  I shoved through the café doors. Anger pulsed through my veins with each click of my heels. Another disaster of a night I didn’t need. Another notch in my bad date belt. Another failure when it came to entertaining the thoughts of a possible relationship.

  I pressed the unlock button on my keychain, but as I glanced up at my car, I halted.

  Wait . . . that can’t be . . . is that his . . .no, no, no.

  A deep groan rumbled through my chest as I stared upon the shiny black BMW with familiar license plate holder.

  A holder I hadn’t seen since the morning of my wedding day as I drove away from our apartment on my way to have my hair done. A holder Tom and I had argued about for six months until he ordered it without consulting me. A holder that he bragged about to everyone he knew and even everyone he didn’t know.

  The one that read: ‘Don’t lie, bitch, all women like it up the . . .’

  Ugh. Seriously?

  As I stared at Tom’s car, I tried to remember the other patrons in the cafe. Faceless stranger after faceless stranger, I had recognized no one. Although, I supposed I didn’t look at everyone.

  Why is he in San Francisco? Please tell me he didn’t see that my date stood me up. Please, please, pretty please.

  I collapsed into the driver seat, slammed my car door, and threw my purse in the passenger seat. It hit the leather with a thud. I hadn’t thought of Tom in months.

  Hadn’t thought about how he’d taken a job in Sacramento, leaving San Francisco and all his friends behind without a second glance, as though he wanted a new life, and wanted to forget about the one he’d been living for the last thirty years.

  Nor had I thought about the rumor I’d heard that he was also living with another woman he’d met mere days after he’d walked out on me.

  Could this night get any worse?

  My phone vibrated as it received another text message. I ignored it, though, instead turning the key until the car’s engine roared to life underneath me. Before I could shift into reverse, the phone vibrated a third time, the lit screen slightly visible from the opened corner of the handbag.

  Lisa had a lot to say tonight, didn’t she?

  Headlights blinded me through the mess of San Francisco traffic. Taxis, bumper to bumper honked their horns, the drivers either resorting to waving inappropriate gestures to one another or shouting words that made me blush.

  Turn by turn, street by street, my whole dating life replayed in my head. Failure after failure, they all ended with either a quick break-up, a first date that never grew into a second one, and, of course, my one broken engagement with a ruined wedding.

  Memories I’d fought to push from my thoughts for so long suddenly seemed to creep back in as though they were trying to etch themselves back into my mind.

  I drove down into the parking garage of the apartment high-rise and punched the security number into the keypad. My thumbs tapped on the steering wheel while I waited for the gate to roll open so I could finally drive inside.

  As I rounded the corner, my headlights shined on my next-door neighbor Miss DeFrank and her two dachshund dogs that barked constantly. She ignored me as I passed, shouting at her two fur-babies who attempted to chase my tires.

  I loved and hated my apartment at the same time. Loved the modern sleek lines, both inside and out, loved the floor plan, the amenities, and the security, but I hated living so close to other people and the noise.

  Surely, I could afford to move. I had already been approved for a mortgage that well exceeded the price of my dream home. However, instead of diving into a house payment, I wanted to wait so I could build up my savings.

  I didn’t want the debt of a large mortgage—especially when I could cut it in half with the commission from my client, the rich and famous, Hollywood starlet, Reece Jones. If, and when, I could find her, her perfect multimillion dollar condo in the city, that is.

  As I continued through the underground tunnel, the taillights of a car reflected from my headlights and I slammed on my breaks.

  That stupid car is parked in my parking space, again?

  A scream formed on the tip of my tongue and I hit the steering wheel hard several times with the palm of my hand.

  For the past two weeks, the unfamiliar royal blue Cadillac CTS-V coupe had sat in between the two white lines of my parking space. One or two nights, it would vanish like an annoying fluke and an inconvenience that I could shrug off without care or concern.

  Unfortunately, it would return, and once again steal the space I paid good money to have. Parking proved hard enough in the city of San Francisco without having someone steal the only small piece of concrete I had the claim on.

  After finding one of the guest spaces, I shut off my car and fetched the stack of sticky pads from my glove compartment.

  Perhaps only someone stupid would leave yet another nasty note, especially when the owner of the vehicle had ignored all of the others, but I couldn’t stop my hand from flying across the pale yellow pad.

  Dear Jackass, I’m growing rather tired of

  repeating myself every other night. I supposed

  it’s my own fault for believing one so incredibly

  rude has the intelligence to comprehend their

  sincere lack of decency. You are parking in

  my parking space. Are you that big of a moron?

  Can you not read? Let me spell it out for you

  then, if I catch your car here again I will

  call management and have it towed.

  You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Lisa’s snarky voice whispered in my ears.

  Her repeated words after every single one of my complaints drew a groan to my lips. Tonight wasn’t the time to be nice. Tonight wasn’t the time I would give the fly honey.

  Tonight was the time to be mean.

  Anger boiled in my blood as I stomped across the parking garage with my fists clenched. I lifted the windshield wiper of the jerk’s car and placed the note on the glass, wiping my hands and laughing at my own spiteful brilliance written in pen ink.

  My phone vibrated with yet another message.

  Ugh.

  I trudged up the stairs and through the outdoor courtyard; my feet weighted by the day with each step. Not even the gentle breeze blowing through the tree leaves could drown out the sounds of a city busy with life. Horns honked, engines roared, and the occasional loud stereo system thumped with hard base.

  I loved living in the city, and yet, right now, I longed for peace and quiet. Cities never sleep. They go and go and go, all the time, and the bigger they are, the louder they are, leaving you either running along with the chaos
or falling behind, unable to catch up no matter how hard you try. While sometimes the fast-paced life I’d grown up in felt exciting, it also felt suffocating and exhausting.

  And today it had worn me out.

  I unlocked my apartment door and closed it behind me—shutting out the world behind the thick block of wood as I kicked off my shoes, flinging them across the room.

  Charlie, my extremely fat orange tabby cat, trotted toward me, meowing his friendly greeting. He rubbed his body against my legs while he purred.

  A bright red number flashed on the front of my answering machine. Obviously, messages from Lisa, no doubt asking why I hadn’t responded to her texts and ordering me to call her immediately.

  My finger hovered over the machine for a second before I inhaled a deep breath and pressed the tiny black play button.

  “Hey girl, it’s me. You’re probably on your way to the cafe, but I thought I’d try you at home, first. I’ll send you a text to see how things are going.” Her voice chirped in volume as though to hint she had knocked it out of the park with her matchmaking skills.

  If she only knew.

  BEEP.

  “Hey, me again. Sent you a few texts, but you haven’t responded. Hope that’s a good sign.” Her giggle crawled up my skin. “Anyway, call me when you get the chance . . . or text me back. I want to see how it’s going.”

  BEEP.

  “Okay, so . . . I’ve sent like a thousand text messages and you haven’t responded. I’m starting to wonder what’s going on. Hopefully, you are having a blast.” Although, amusement tickled in between a few of her words, the once obvious excitement had faded from her tone.

  BEEP.

  “Uh, hello! Where are you? I’m getting worried here. Text me back or call me.” Completely void of happiness, her words had an odd growl to them, like a parent scolding a child.

  BEEP.

  “Helen, where are you? You haven’t responded to any of my texts. Ben and I are starting to get worried here. Call me back as soon as you get this.” Her lack of patience spurred the loud click as she slammed her phone into the headset.

  Just what I need.

  I stopped the machine and plucked the cordless headset from the base, dialing the same phone number that I’d dialed for the last decade. Charlie meowed again, anxious for his dinner.

  “I will feed you in a second. Just have some patience.” I barked at him.

  After two rings, Lisa answered. “Why haven’t you texted me back?” she screeched without a greeting. “Where are you? What happened?”

  “Well, hello to you, too.”

  “Enough of that. Where are you?”

  “I’m at home.”

  “Oh. I guess it didn’t go great then, huh?”

  “Actually, I have no idea if it would have gone great or not since he didn’t even bother to show up.” By the time I finished my sentence, my voice sharpened with a crispness that popped through my lips on the letter ‘p’.

  “Are you serious? He stood you up?”

  “Yes, he did. It felt great, too, sitting in the cafe all by myself, waiting for him and wondering what happened. Worst of all, when I walked out to my car, Tom’s car was parked next to mine.”

  “Did you just say you saw Tom’s car?”

  “Yep. Just sitting next to mine. Disgusting license plate holders and all.”

  “But I thought he moved to Sacramento.”

  “So did I. I have no idea why he’d be back in San Francisco.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “But I don’t want to talk about him. I’m home and I’m fine so you can stop worrying.”

  “Aww, girl, I’m so sorry.”

  “Nah, you didn’t know Travis wouldn’t show up.”

  “Still, though, I feel bad. I never would have set you up if I knew he’d do that. He seemed so nice, and after I showed him your picture, he said he was interested. I wonder what happened. Do you want me to talk to him the next time I see him?”

  “No, no, you don’t have to do that.”

  “But what if he had an emergency? You don’t really want to write him off when it could have been beyond his control, do you?”

  “Well, no, but I just don’t really know if I want to know what happened.”

  “Why? I mean, I want to know and I wasn’t the one he stood up.”

  Her words resonated in my chest. Surely, they made sense. Surely, I should want to know what happened to him. I should want to know why he left me waiting in the cafe all by myself, feeling less than worthy of any decency like a simple phone call.

  I should want to know, and yet, I didn’t.

  “If you want to talk to him, then talk to him. To be honest, I’m just not interested in dating right now. It just all seems so pointless, ya know?”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “But isn’t that when I’m supposed to find the one? Isn’t that what all the books and shrinks and all those love articles in magazines say? You always find Mr. Right when you’re not even looking.”

  I laughed at my own joke. Lisa didn’t.

  “Well, I’m sorry tonight didn’t go as planned,” she finally said.

  “Again, it’s not your fault. But maybe next time, just let me find my own dates instead of pushing me toward another deliciously perfect for me man who is far from it?”

  “Are you saying that I don’t have the gift of Cupid?”

  “You don’t necessarily have the greatest track record.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh please, Travis was just another one of your many hits and misses.”

  “Many? Name one.”

  “Well, let’s see, first you introduced me to the out-of-work actor who tried to move in with me after the second date because he couldn’t pay for his own place.”

  “And I still say you should have stuck it out. One movie or TV show and you’d be living quite the luxurious life.”

  “After him, you set me up with that physical trainer, who not only talked to and about himself in third person, but woke me every morning at four o’clock with his grunting while he screamed ‘just one more, Craig, just one more.’”

  Laughter burst from the receiver. “Okay, maybe that one was a bust.”

  “I think out of all of them, though, the surfer proved my favorite tragic moment. With his long blond hair and hang-ten vocabulary, he believed the he was the real Jeff Spicoli from that 80’s movie I remember from my teens. Of course, I wasn’t shocked to learn that it was not only his favorite movie of all time, but his favorite character, too.”

  “Okay, okay, point taken.”

  Charlie meowed again and reached up my leg with his paws, stretching his limbs against both of my calves. His deep purr rumbled loudly.

  “Hey, listen, I just walked in the door and I all I want to do is slip into my pajamas, pour myself a glass of wine, and crash on the couch for a bit. Can we talk more about it later?”

  “Sure.” She paused. “Oh wait, are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

  “I have my doctor appointment at eleven, but I can meet you afterwards. I’ll just tell Michael that I’m meeting with clients and I won’t be in the office for the rest of the afternoon. I have to do some marketing errands, anyway. Reece can’t be my only client if I want to get out of this apartment.”

  “Okay, I’ll text you in the morning with the place.”

  After hanging up the phone, I scooped up my shoes and ambled to my bedroom.

  Charlie trotted after me with a fierce determination to gain my attention as if his life depended on it. Half way down the hall, he passed through my legs and doubled backed under my feet, tripping me.

  My shoes hit the floor and my hands slammed into both walls to keep myself from falling on my butt.

  “Stupid cat.”

  With a flick of his tail, he ignored me and jumped on my bed, continuing to meow several more times. The volume on his constant bellows rose with every second I ignored him.

  “Let me change my clothes, you big
bully. You’re not going to starve to death in just a few minutes. In fact, you could probably live off your belly fat for at least a year.”

  Finally slipping my pants around my waist, I plucked him from the bed and carried him to the laundry room. His loud purrs vibrated through my arm until I set him on the washing machine.

  With one swift tug on the can lid, I plopped the tuna smelling cat food chunks into his bowl and he wasted no time plunging into the pâté as though he’d never eaten before in his life.

  “Pig.”

  My socks slid over the hardwood floors as I made my way to the kitchen—the darkened wood cool to the touch even through the cotton.

  After fetching the wine bottle from the refrigerator, I poured myself a generous amount of the sinfully dark burgundy liquor with its fruity, robust aroma and moved to the living room, settling into the couch. The stress of the day melted into the cushions as I closed my eyes, laid my head back on the fluffy pillows, and covered myself with a blanket.

  Forget the day. Just forget the day.

  My floor began to vibrate from the stereo in the apartment below mine. The deep thumps and loud volume boomed through my walls and rattled my picture frames, pounding in my chest. My headache worsened and the wine in my glass rippled with tiny waves.

  “Again?”

  A growl rumbled from my lips and I whipped the blanket from my lap, nearly dropping my glass as I rose to my feet and stomped on the floor.

  Turn it down, moron.

  The music continued to pound through my apartment.

  I stomped again. Nothing.

  I stomped a third time. Nothing.

  Of course, the idiot probably can’t even hear me.

  I yanked my coat from the rack, flung the door open, and trotted down the stairs, taking two at a time in my haste.

  “Good evening, Helen,” Miss DeFrank called out. Her two dogs barked at me as they tugged against her tight grip on their leashes. “Oh, just hush up, hush up, you two.”

  They obeyed her command, but whined as they ran around her feet, wrapping her legs up with the long lines of leather and stitching.

  “Good evening to you, too.”