Plot: He just wanted to get away for a few months. Was that too much to ask? Playwright John Peter's vacation plans went sideways when the country went on Covid-19 lockdown. The girl he literally met by accident is on lockdown with him. How does he avoid cabin fever for 14 days and control the attraction he feels for her.
NOTE: This story was inspired by the actor Pedro Pascal (Game of Thrones, Narcos, Mandalorian)
Warning: If you're sensitive about the word 'fuck', 'shit', 'asshole', 'motherfucker' or any profanity better not read since I'm going to use them liberally.
HIDING PLACE
CHAPTER 2
The slow and careful limping couldn't stop her from hissing at the sharp sting. The feeling of hard leather making contact with her raw skin was excruciating, "Oh God….this was such a bad idea!" As she had suspected the skin of the back of her right heel is now broken and red. "I got to put some Band-Aids on it or I'll bleed to death!" At the other end of the line she knew her friend would just roll her eyes. "I'm not being a drama queen! This is all your fault!"
If she could find a quieter place to avoid bleeding to death, that is.
Where can I find a place to hide in this circus?
-o-0-o-
A place to hide? Here? No, not there! We are not talking about that absurd cul-de-sac, you punk ass! What's that stupid place for anyway?
I had this big idiotic smile on my face when I spied this alcove by accident in my senseless walking after I landed four hours ago. Then in a sudden burst of panic I went all mildly paranoid looking at people suspiciously.
And here I am feeling safe after I ducked in this shithole without a second thought, sitting on the floor in some forgotten niche hidden behind some leafy decorative plants and product banners. And… if I get bored in my fortress of solitude I could explore those doors at the dead end to liven things up, how's that?
Are the doors locked? I thought. Do people come here to make out? A naughty smirk flashed that famous 'make-women-pregnant' smile. Cold places are great for making out, if it's just a tad darker…
Damn it! That's a dangerous path your mind is taking you, boy. Why do you want more problems?
What is my plan? I can't stay anonymous even in this country and I can't camp out in this hidden 'pocket' at the airport! Am I insane?
Frustrated to death at your lack of inspiration there's nothing else for you to do but pull up your long legs and rest your arms on your knees.
Man, I'm so fucked up!
-o-0-o-
She just paused for a moment trying to get her bearings when she was bumped on the shoulder. Her bag dropped to the floor and she almost lost her balance. The effing guy had the guts to look back at her like some insect in his way.
"Excuse me!" She huffed with a glare to the back of the guy. "Asshole!" she murmured. "Hey Rees, I really really need to find a place to sit down. I was almost fucking roadkill!"
Hoping no one would careen into her again she began limping to the right area of the airport while cursing a mile a minute.
-o-0-o-
The next few hours passed somewhat productively. Like fifty-fifty ratio of productivity. The other ratio was…something. It's up to you what you to think that something is.
On the productivity factor the least occupied hotel I found was about five hours away from the city. Sweet! I can sleep on the way.
But…there's a but…
All the local Uber cars were taken. Not even adding a generous tip helped; there were no long-distance takers.
The second ratio, though not adding to the productivity of getting me out of here, was to find out if the two doors were locked.
They weren't. Yes!
But…
There's another BUT….
Disappointingly, one room was stacked full of furniture and the other room, thought almost empty, was so smelly and the floor was littered possibly with party leftovers made me almost barf. So I returned to my cul-de-sac and sat my dejected ass back in my hiding place on the cold floor.
The more I linger the more I'm looking like a homeless person. If I keep it up no one would really recognize me. God, I'm tired. Then I almost spit out the water I was drinking when I checked the time. It's eleven in the morning already! I groaned glumly, head against the wall, at how badly this plan is heading to.
I look at my watch again, just a simple everyday watch; my favorite locked in the safe back home. I was glad that I haven't gotten any text for more than thirty minutes. Maybe she's gotten the message….I quickly pulled my phone out and turned it off; partly to save batteries and to spare myself the apprehension of expecting another non-stop bunch of messages or calls.
I better learn a lesson from this fucked up situation; not everyone who smiles at me has good intentions. Not everyone who's friendly is a friend.
-o-0-o-
"Oh, fuck it!" she snarled, finally fed up. The infernal shoes came off as soon as the last person passed her by. "Ooh, that felt good!" she groaned in relief, curling her toes on the cold floor as it soothed her abused feet
There were two things she didn't like when she was a tourist guide; heels and perverts. It's been years since she wore heels for good reason. They were only good to wear for about an hour, the heels, not the men. Longer than that the fun ends as your feet begins to kill you, although…sometimes men are like that. If you keep them far longer than they're worth they're gonna kill you inside.
Whoa! She shook her head in surprise. Where did that come from? Her lips pursed, bare feet leaving damp outline on the dark tiles, wishing she could go home sans shoes.
Whoa again! She abruptly stopped and froze when she glimpsed a narrow recess behind the tall decorative bushes when she passed by.
"Reese!" She whispered. She hurriedly stuck the phone in the crook of her shoulder. "I'm still at the airport! I'm still trying to fix my heels. No, not the shoes; my foot!" She said, eyes darting around. Seeing no one she quickly ducked under a decorative plant with tall broad leaves.
Tiptoeing, she struggled like a bad juggler with her bag and the stupid shoes and the phone…
-o-0-o-
God damn it! &%$#*&@#$!!!! What the fuck!
Breathe…breathe…I closed my eyes and fists tight. If anyone within hearing distance heard the curses I spewed in my mother tongue they would understand every single word of it.
They would. It would be amusing too.
I was minding my own, on the floor, asleep with my back against the wall, in my current 'homeless' status, when a cannonball slammed onto me!
What the effing fuck!
It hit at an area of the body that shouldn't be hit for it might damage my capability of creating mini-versions of myself if I ever decide on making some in the future.
Shoving the offending 'cannonball' off of my aching 'lap' it took me a few minutes of writhing and gasping in agony before my pain-fogged brain could think 'what the effing hell happened?!'
When I opened my eyes I actually forgot the pain. I blinked in disbelief.
Shit. Do wishes come true now?
-o-0-o--o-0-o-