The World of Franyo
By drink #5 I was no longer Nicole, but some crazy, shrill-voiced, over-the-top female braying her secrets to the person next to her, ready to dance on the bar or run off with a stranger.
I’d promise myself I wouldn’t give in to the siren song of alcohol. Yet each day my feet would march me to a liquor store, seemingly of their own volition.
My friend Laurie was a force, a larger-than-life being, someone who would have qualified as a mythical creature with her own kingdom and court.
My uncle Waldo was on his deathbed in Hospice when Franyo and I went to visit him. He was alone, but he kept shouting to someone we couldn't see.
At the club, I sat at the bar next to a very pretty blond woman and stilettos, but when I spoke to her she responded in a deep male voice.
My boss acted as matchmaker, setting me up for a wild night one evening when a trip with a date to a club turned into anything but the expected.
My second job in New York was as a ghostwriter for Joy, a woman who hoped to make it big with a bestselling novel. Joy was the quintessential New Yorker.
By the end of August, Jofka and I were packed up and gone. We moved into my parents' guest room - really a study. Jofka & I were squooshed together.
I did the right thing resigning from my job as staff writer at First Commodity Corporation of Boston. The firm was already under investigation for its aggressive sales techniques.
Something told me that Steven did not ultimately belong in my future. Nor did the job at First Commodity Corporation of Boston.