Date: Sat, 16 Aug 2003 14:27:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robyn <wolfhowlin2001@yahoo.com>
Subject: Lives Intertwinded (Chapter 8)

Lives Intertwined (Chapter 8)
By The WhiteWolf


	The sunlight tried to pierce it's way through the curtains of the
room. The figure in the room began to stir slowly and sat up. Jim opened
his eyes and looked to the window.  After a few seconds he realized he had
overslept.

	"Crap!" Jim rushed around the apartment getting dressed and trying
to remember why he overslept. "Damn coffee." He opened up his refrigerator
and realized he hadn't made a lunch. After slamming the refrigerator door
he headed to the door but stopped short. A purse lay resting on the
table. The drag queen from the party. Jim wasn't sure why he took the purse
home with him. He picked up the purse and planned to either drop it off at
the apartment he found it at or, if it wasn't out of his way, to "her"
himself. He grabbed the purse and closed the door to his apartment hoping
to catch the next bus.

	Nick pulled out a black and gray button up shirt and checked for
creases. It was suitable enough to wear to an interview. After taking his
shower he already felt very awake. He was very fortunate to have an
interview in the morning; he hates to catch people around lunchtime. It was
odd how one meal could disrupt the entire day depending on whether it was
enjoyable or not. And of course, being one of the first people of many
applicants he was more likely to be remembered. He slipped on the shirt and
looked at the clock; it was still a little early to go. He flicked on the
TV and changed to some idle channel.

	Adam leaned back in the seat of his car and debated if he should
head down to the mailroom. Of course, he has to have a reason for going. He
could wait for Jim to come up and deliver the mail, but he wasn't even sure
if he was working that day. Besides what would he say, "Damn you're hot,
let's do it in front of your co-workers." Highly unlikely that would slip
out, but even asking him out for coffee would seem out of place down in the
mailroom. He finally decided to head to his office and resist the urge to
stare at the captivating kid named Jim.

	Greg was in a panic. He couldn't believe that he left his purse at
the party. It was one of the most foolish things he thought he had ever
done. He never leaves it lying around. He knew exactly where "she" left
it. Robyn set it on the table right next to the Queen Ann chair at the
party. He had to head all the way back into town to get it. He didn't have
the phone number for the man who was at the party.

	"Ok, calm down," he spoke to himself, "It's not the end of the
world. Besides, you didn't have much more than a couple dollars in
there. All you had was? damn it! My favorite lipstick! I swear: if it's
gone I'm going to have kill somebody." He went to his closet about to pick
up a wig and suddenly caught himself.

	"Do I really need to? It's not like they won't believe it's my
purse," Greg reassured himself. Remembering she had another show to perform
she picked up her case and her car keys.

	Alex sat in his chair and waited. All he wanted to do was apologize
for last night.  He picked up the phone and dialed her number.

	"Hello," Rhonda's voice came over the phone after a few short
rings.

	Alex noticed a slightly better tone from her than he had received
the other night, "At least I waited for you to say it this time."

	"Well, hello Mr. Forget-me-soon."

	"Just to let you know I am calling to apologize."

	"I know, "Rhonda spoke plainly, "what other reason would you have
for calling."  There was a pause. "So details, details!"

	"Nothing happened, really."

	"Nothing? I'm hurt; you left me at a party so you could go do
nothing."

	Alex rolled his head back, "All right, I got his phone number and
we had coffee."

	"That's lame. No boinking?"

	"Eloquent, aren't you?"

	"Oh, yeah, that's my style all right. So how's the apartment look
now?

	"It's great? If it was hit by a tornado."

	"Aw, too bad. Well, I should let you get back to work. Huh, you
procrastinator?"

	"Yeah, thanks. I promise I'll make it up to you though."

	"I know, hon. Call you later." Rhonda hung up the phone. Alex sat
there for minute after hanging up the phone. His mind drifted to Jim. While
it was true that he got Jim's number, he suspected that this would only
lead him to a dead end. Alex got up and looked about the room.

	"What's the point in cleaning," he thought, "It's not anybody's
going to come over." He sat back down in his chair and turned on his
computer. "Might as well finish my writing." He looked at window and saw a
couple drops a rain land against it.


	Jim ran quickly to the building to avoid getting soaked. He checked
his pockets and pulled out a packet of damp cigarettes.

	"Ruined, of course, "Jim open the door and walked in. Before
heading down to the mailroom he picked up another pack in the lobby.

	Glancing at his time card he realized that he was clocked in ten
minutes late. As he went to sit down at the desk he scraped his hand along
a sharp metal edge.

	"Bloody hell," he shouted aloud looking at the gash along his palm.

	A fellow co-worker, Michael walked by as Jim was holding the
injured hand, "Damn, does it hurt?"

	"No, I'm masochistic and this is how I get my kicks. Could you get
me some bacitracin or something along those lines," Jim asked.

	Michael, being at the receiving end of sarcasm, decided to feign an
attempt to retrieve any form of first aid. Jim kept pressure on the
wound. Finding if difficult to work with one hand he pretended he was
working whenever the boss looked around.

	After a short time Ron walked by. "Another letter for ^Ö oh,
what'd you do to your hand, cut it?"

	"It's not so wide as a church door, nor as deep as well but 'twill
serve, "Jim began to raise his voice, "unless somebody gets me the damn
Neosporin, like I asked."

	"Shakespeare having a bad day," Ron became sympathetic.

	"Like you wouldn't believe. First, my cigarettes get soaked?"

	Ron shook his head, "Those things'll kill ya'."

	"Thanks, I'll take that into account."

	"Since you're already having a bad day, I'll deliver the letter
myself," Ron smiled as he looked around Jim's work station, "By the way,
nice purse." Jim remembered the purse he had brought on the way here and
looked back at it. After looking at his hand he thought he might as well
see if she had any tissues to wrap his hand up. There was no harm in
looking. Reaching in he could feel a myriad of makeup products but nothing
that even came close to tissues. Glancing in he noticed, much to his
surprise, a tube bacitracin.  Without a moment of hesitation he opened the
tube a put a dab of antibiotic ointment on the cut. It soothed the wound
slightly and Jim sat back in his chair. At the same moment he noticed Rick
walking his way. Jim put the purse in his cart and began to sort the mail
once again.

	It was a simple stock boy job. That's all Nick really had to
do. Just stay in the back room and stock items. He could easily adapt to
any job that he was assigned to. Since they wanted him to work right away,
he assumed that not many people had applied for this job.  It could have
been the low pay, or the part of neighborhood the shop was in but the job
didn't seem all that difficult or unmanageable.

	There were only 3 other people that worked in the back room and
they were not lively at all. They were all obviously younger than him, and
had no more than a high school education. Entirely a waste to even
associate with them. Nick thought he might be having some kind of "holier
than thou" attitude but his intellect was one of the main reasons he is
lonely.

	A voice broke Nick out of his silent thoughts, "Rick?"

	"Nick, "he corrected his new co-worker. He didn't even bother too
look up as he kept on restocking the shelf.

	"Right. Me and some of the guys - we're thinking about to goin' to
a bar tonight," the man spoke. "you're welcome to join, if you want."

	Hard decision. It was a choice between going home and falling
asleep to Jay Leno or spend a night listening to people speak with
atrocious grammar. Finding the former option more depressing than the
latter, he agreed.

	"Sure, I'm up for it," Nick spoke in a manner that was very
plain. Nick wasn't planning on getting to know any of the people that well
but one night wasn't going to make much of a difference.


	A fly landed on the large ceiling and Brad continued to stare
upward before getting out of his bed. The maids wouldn't be around for a
few more hours. He knew that he didn't have to get going any time soon
because he was taking a later gig at the club. He got up, however, because
he couldn't stand to sleep into the afternoon. After putting on a silk robe
he looked out of the large window and into the city.

	"Millions of people, and not a single one I can get," Brad spoke
sighing. Walking to the table next to his bed he picked up a paper with a
time sheet on it. He looked down the list and found what time he was
supposed to be at the club.


	"Four," he questioned it, "Who the hell organized this?" Looking at
the sheet again he noticed that the same drag queen he saw earlier was just
before him. He thought to himself about her. Brad smiled as he began to get
dressed.


	Picking up a plastic cup, Alex heard the doorbell ring.

	Not wanting to stand back up, Alex spoke aloud, "It's open."
Cautiously the door opened. "Can I help you?"

	Greg looked in at Alex picking up what was left of the party.

	"It was quite a mess wasn't it," Greg looked around. After Alex
gave a quizzical look Greg added, "The party."

	"Oh yes. Sorry, I didn't remember seeing you."

	Greg laughed to himself as he cleared his throat and used his Robyn
voice, "My fault entirely I wasn't watching where I was going." He glanced
to Alex who remained motionless.  Returning to his normal voice, Greg spoke
again, "If I overheard you correctly, I wasn't your cup of tea."

	"Oh, I'm-," Alex began to speak.

	"At a loss for words, I see," Greg interrupted him, "that's all
right. I just stopped by to see if I left my purse here."

	"Yes, it's? wait," Alex was still a little surprised by the
revelation as he recalled the night's events, "No. There was a man you were
talking to at the party. I believe he still has your purse? he meant to
give it to you but-"

	Greg put his hand over his eyes, "Do you know where he is?"

	"He mentioned he works in some mailroom in town. It's for an ad
agency."

	"Yes," Greg remembered the short conversation he had with Jim. "I
remember.  Thank you." Greg was about to leave as Alex got up.

	"Hey, listen I'm sorry about the way I acted," Alex apologized, "I
didn't know."

	"No one ever does. Don't worry, hon, I'm used to it," Greg
continued to walk down the hallway to the stairwell.


That's all for chapter 8. It may not seem much has been covered but it's
just the start of new day. So many things can occur in a short span of
time. So many choices, and numerous paths can be taken. Depending on which
path is taken it can lead to endless possibilities.
 	The question I propose, as I always do, is: do you like the story
or just the chapter itself? Write in and tell me your feelings. I always
listen and I always respond.

Write to me at: wolfhowlin2001@yahoo.com