One
1313 Words
Ezra:
She's sitting at the end of the bar. Her head is resting against the old worn out oak. There's an empty shot glass in her hand. She's holding it out waiting for it to be refilled. Lina walked over to her and said something to the girl with a big smile on her lips. The pretty girl's head shot up. It looks like she had been crying.
Lina took pity on her and filled the glass with whiskey after shaking it through some ice in her shaker. The pretty girl smiled back pushing some money over to her. Lina took it and put it in the cash register. I had meant to leave earlier, but I couldn't. I have to know her. I have wanted to know her for a long time now.
"Ezra, you're here a little late aren't you?" Lina asked cleaning the counter in front of me with a wet rag that smells like pine.
"Do you know who that is?" I asked motioning the girl. We both looked over to the pretty girl again, her head was back on the bar.
"She seems down," Lina shrugged. "She got here a little while ago. Seems a little spooked,"
"That's Rip Hemingway," I rushed out. Lina looked back at the girl a little unimpressed.
"No way," she shook her head. I nodded. "That artist you love so much? What are the odds of her being here in our bar?"
Rip Hemingway is one of the best artists in the state. She's engaged to Stephen Alcantar. Well, was. He's the leading man in 'My Great Mistake' the new trending soap on tv. Friday, he left Rip standing at the altar to run away with his costar Brooke Evans. She's an Emmy nominee. The look on Rip's face makes me hate that b***h even more than I already did. Not that Brooke ever did anything wrong to me, she's just highly overrated like Taylor Swift. They're both dumb blonde bimbos.
"I have two of her paintings in our loft," I announced.
"Okay?" Lina laughed.
"I've waited to meet her like all of my life and there she is," I beamed. Lina put a two margaritas in my hands and motioned me to talk to her.
"You found out about her two years ago, weirdo. Maybe she needs a super fan right now," she chuckled, motioning me over.
Am I doing this? Am I really going to go over there and talk to her? I took a deep breath and made the journey. She is a lot prettier up close. I had only ever seen at art galleries from a distance and I had fallen in love with her classic looks. She is everything all the girls wanted to be and she's talented. I feel like that's rare.
"Hi," I huffed awkwardly. She raised her head and then leaned to the side almost animated like.
"Hello," she greeted with a sad little smile playing on her lips. She's drunk. Her flushed cheeks indicate that much.
"I know right now isn't the best time, but I'm such a big fan," I rushed out and placed the margarita in front of her.
"I know you," she gave me a brief glance over before she turned all the way around to face me. My stomach flipped.
"You do?" I asked nervously she bobbed her head up and down.
"In my first convention here you were upfront. You've been to my new galleries a few times. You bought my Heart of Gold piece and A Touch of Red. Those were my favorites," my heart sped up in my chest. I can feel the warmth flare up on my face.
"Yeah," I admitted. "Mine too,"
"Sit. I'm Rip," she patted the barstool next to her and then extended her hand out for me to take. I took it. I looked over at Lina who smiled at me giving me a thumbs-up as she moved around to her other customers.
"I'm Ezra," I introduced myself.
"Ezra, that's a badass name," she smiled her smile is real. "Are you an artist?"
"No. I'm... Well, I'm trying to be a writer," I shrugged. She nodded.
"Right on. That's a form of art I think. I love reading," I smiled. "What do you write?"
"Mostly dark stuff," I shrugged.
"Like vampires and s**t?" I shook my head.
"Mostly demonic and angelic," she smiled.
"Really that's... Do you have anything?" she asked and I nodded reaching for my satchel. I handed her the manuscript I had been trying to push with no luck.
"It's a little..." I didn't even bother finishing. I sat here awkwardly as she scanned through some of the pages.
"f*****g crazy. I love it," she grinned after reading a few pages in. "Do you have an agent? A manager?"
"I can't afford one right now," I admitted she looked over at me and smiled.
"These are watermarked right?" she asked holding the pages over to the light. "How about you put your number on this and I take it with me. If you don't get a call by Thursday come by the gallery and remind me to rip someone's head off, yeah?"
"Are you serious?" I asked and she nodded. I reached for the bundle of pens in my bag and pulled one out. She smiled as I wrote my name and number on the cover page.
"So, Ezra Powell is this for me?" she asked placing my manuscript into a canvas carrier and then she turned to the margarita I had placed in front of her.
"Yeah. I thought you'd like something sweet in comparison..."
"To the bitter s**t my life has thrown at me right now?" she finished when I didn't continue. "You can ask me I'm not that weak. I won't fall apart,"
"I was going to say whiskey. I just... Why were you even with someone like him? He's beneath you," her smile turned soft.
"That's really sweet of you. Why do you think that?" she asked.
"You're an amazing artist Rip Hemingway. Like you went to Juilliard, you are like a music and art goddess and this guy he's just an actor. Who would be nowhere without you if I may add? Like you made this guy's career and he throws it all away for some cheap talentless bimbo with fake boobs and super dry bleached hair," she laughed. "You are by far the prettiest of the two. I just don't see the appeal,"
"Ezra, I think I want to keep you around," she smirked, taking her phone out of her purse and tapped over the screen. My phone vibrated in my pocket. "That's my number,"
"You remembered my number?" I asked I didn't even think she had looked at the number. She just smiled.
"Yeah, I have this curse. Photographic memory. I hate drinking you know," she sighed before finishing the margarita. "It makes it worse. It's like when I'm drunk my memory box just opens up and shoots random s**t at me and it f*****g sucks,"
What a weird thing to say. She looked at me and smiled again. I want to hug her and just make sure she gets home okay tonight. My idol, I'm here having margaritas with my idol. Her paintings just make the creativity in my head go crazy.
"Then why are you drinking?" I asked.
"Because sometimes I want to remember why," she sighed. "I want to remember why it is that I feel like this and I want to remember so that I never forget the reason,"
"You ladies okay?" Lina asked coming over to us.
"Do you like Strawberry Malt Balls?" I asked Rip she nodded. "They're my favorite when I drink,"
"Coming right up," Lina smiled winking at me. If Rip Hemingway needs to get drunk to feel better. I'm going to accompany her.
- Writer
