Spot

Yesterday,

all my troubles seemed so far away.

Now it looks as though they're here to stay,

oh, i believe in yesterday.

        Yesterday. That was the last day I had to work on that damn assignment for work that was due today.

        S**t, I thought. Work.

        Without hesitating, I rolled off my bed, rushing to my closet to quickly throw something on. I stopped for a moment, looking down at the studded high heels that were attached to my feet.

        Jesus, was I wearing these all night? I thought to myself, as I flung the heels off as fast as I could. I quickly grabbed a wrinkled shirt off the floor, throwing it over me. I pulled the shirt down over my head, the light from the window stinging my eyes and starting the raging headache I'd most likely be having for the rest of the day. Bright lights and a night full of drinking didn't mix.

        I threw on some pants that I found crumpled up in my bed sheets and grabbed my art portfolio (witch probably weighed about 10 pounds now) and ran out of my bedroom. forget makeup; I was in too much of a hurry. The eye liner Ihad on from last night would have to do.

        I ran out into the living room of the apartment, dropping down to where my shoes were laying. I was greated by Loretta, who must have stayed up all night partying. Her tolerance must have been pretty high, because I had never seen her have a hangover in the 6 months I had been living with her.Then again, she must have been 10, maybe 15 years older than I was, and I was only 22. Either way, the girl could hold her liquor.

        "There she is." she said, pushing her fluffy black hair out of her dark brown eyes. "Man, you look like s**t."

        "Thanks." I said, Dripping with sarcasm.

        "Where are you headed off to so early?" She asked, bringing her cup of coffee up to her lips.

        "Hello? Did you forget that some peoples music careers haven't taken off yet and actually have to work?" I growled, giving her a sour look.

        "Well." she said rolling her eyes, but smiling ever so slightly. Despite the raging headache and dreadful hangover, I suppose I did have an attitude. After all, as a blues singer, Loretta really did have her career on track. It seemed like every other night the African American musician would have a gig scheduled at O'Learys's, a bar only a few blocks away from our apartment. The only thing that was getting out of hand were the after parties she held at the apartment, witch seemed like a fun idea until you wake up the next morning an hour late for work with a hangover.

        Work, I thought again. What was I doing? I had to leave for work. I slipped on my other sneaker and lept to my feet, grabbing my heavy portfolio and headed out the door.

        "Don't forget, we have two new tenants coming to look at the place in a few hours. I wanted you to be here for it-"

        That's all I heard Loretta say before I shut the door.

        Ugh, I thought. New roommates, they're never a good thing. The last time she let someone rent out a room we ended up harboring a meth lab. Jesse, as he called himself, said things like "It's okay" and "I won't get caught". Believe me, it didn't end well. So when I heard about not one, but two roomies, I couldn't help but think about what king of trouble they'd be causing, or what kind of drug empires they'd be running, for that matter.

        I turned around to make sure the door was locked before running down the 7 flights of stairs. That was another thing I hated. Whenever I wanted to go anywhere, I practically had to go through a workout if I wanted to leave the flat. I ran down the last few flights as fast as I could, my feet already aching from the heels that I had apparently worn all night. I ran out of the front doors of the building, sunlight smacking me in the face, making my headache ten times worse.

        I shielded my eyes, looking around desperately at the road of busy cars. My hand shot up when I spotted the yellow taxi, and sure enough, it drove right over to me. That was the good part about living in New York city. Just wave your hand and someone would be there to drive you wherever you wanted. It was like magic.

        I flung open the yellow door, stepping over a banana peel as I climbed inside. I pulled the taxi door shut behind me and tossed my portfolio on the seat, everything spilling out and onto the car floor.

 

        “S**t.” I exclaimed, capturing the cab drivers attention.

        

        “Where ya' headed?” he asked, taking a drag of the cigarette that sat between his fingers.

 

        “East main street.” I growled, grabbing the artwork off the dirty floor and stuffing it back into the folder. Just my luck, I thought. Arriving late to work with a hangover, and I get to go home to two new strangers. I shoved my overly packed portfolio off to the side and let out an exhausted sigh. I had a few minutes to just chill.

 

        I rested my head against the back of the seat, looking out the window that had smudge marks all over it. You could find every type of person in the city. From businessmen, to hippies, to people who were here to make something of themselves. I should know. I was one of them.

 

        The city wasn't half bad as long as you weren't stuck in the middle of a bunch of hippies protesting against Vietnam. That was another thing: the war. I had never really paid much attention when somebody brought it up, mainly because nobody close to me was in it. Another reason being was that I was a full on pacifist, and didn't want to hear about the death toll every other day. But I learned to be respectful, because it was a topic that most people took seriously.

 

        My overprotective mother had always worried about me running away to the city. She thought she would lose me to all the drugs and the riots, and was afraid that I wouldn't return home the same. During the time I was in NYC, I had forgotten to schedule a visit, witch she wasn't pleased about at all. I was going on my 6th month without seeing her. But of course, being the overprotective parent that she is, she made sure to call me everyday. Our conversations gradually got a lot less interesting as the months went on, due to the fact that she called every day, but she refused to give it a break. I guess I’ll just have to deal with the fact that she loves me.

 

        My thoughts were interrupted when we hit a bump in the road, sending my arm flying over to catch my folder that was about to go toppling to the ground for the second time. The bump also caused last nights alcohol to rise in my throat, stinging the back of it. Ugh. Staying up with Loretta always seemed like fun until the next morning. I would've never been caught drinking before I moved to the city.

 

        The taxi soon came to a halt in front of the familiar building I knew so well. I tossed a few dollars into the lap of the driver and flew out of the vehicle as fast as I could, making sure I didn't forget my portfolio.

 

        I'll have to admit, walking up to those front doors was terrifying. The last time I was late he threatened to fire me, and I practically had to beg him not to. I could only imagine what kind of plans he had for me this time.

 

        I sneaked through the front doors of the office, looking around to see if my boss, Bill, saw me walk in. I crept over to my tiny desk in the corner of the room. Everybody else had a nice desk, and I got the tiny one even though I was one of the most talented artist there. (you know, besides the fact I was always late.) I think he hated me.

 

        I took out the piece that I hadn't finished yesterday, in hopes that I could possibly have it done by the time Bill noticed I was here. Although I somewhat enjoyed my job, Bill gave the most ridiculous assignments. My idea of an artist certainly wasn't sitting in the corner of a stuffy room with nothing but a bunch of dried up watercolors. Before I started working here, I hadn't known that the choices would be so limited. Like my first day, I had specifically told Bill that I work much better with colored pencils, but no, he made me use paint. The reason? It was cheaper. I also hadn't planned on always having to draw things like a pack of cigarettes or a pair of socks that would just end up being shown in the commercial section of the daily paper.

 

        No, sitting in a tiny crowded room drawing nothing but useless items certainly wasn't the reason why I moved to New York. I wanted to be a musician. I could play the piano ever since I could move my fingers, and was told I had the voice of a superstar. (my mothers words, not mine) My family never really approved of what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn't that they thought I wasn't talented, it was that the odds of me ever getting noticed were a million to one. The only person that ever told me that I could do it was my mother, and I got the feeling that deep down inside, she thought that moving to New York would end up being the worst mistake of my life.

 

        My thoughts were interrupted when I spotted Bill in the corner of my eye, and damn, he didn't look happy. And that’s when I knew what that look on his face meant: he knew I was late.

 

        As soon as we made eye contact, he turned and stormed in my direction. I quickly pulled out the unfinished piece to make it look like I was working on something. As soon as he reached my desk I closed my eyes in horror, awaiting the sound of his screaming voice. But that’s not what I got at all.

 

        “Good god, what the hell happened to you?” he said, looking at me in horror. “You look like a pirate.”

 

        I looked at him confused, for I had know idea what he was talking about. Then I remembered I hadn't bothered looking in the mirror this morning.

 

        I reached over to the tiny mirror that was laying face down in the corner of my desk. I turned it towards me and watched as a look of shock passed across my face. My left eye was the darkest shade of purple I had ever seen, in fact, I didn't even know a bruise could get that dark. How did this even happen? One thing was for sure: Loretta had better remember what had happened last night, because she had a lot of explaining to do.

 

        “Well?” Bill said, waiting for an explanation.

 

        “Um, just got caught in the middle of one of those ugly riots.” I lied.

 

        “Oh.”he said. I wasn't quite sure if he had believed my excuse. “Well, good job.”

 

        “Good job?” I asked confused. What, on my black eye?

 

        “You know, on your work.” he said unenthusiastically. He gave me a weird look, rolled his eyes, and walked away. Why didn't he scream at me for being late? Did he not know that I was half an hour late for work or was he just having a good day? It think it was choice number two, though it was very rare.

 

        The rest of the day seemed to fly by very quickly, despite the fact that I had a terrible headache. I decided to make a vow, and vow is to never drink ever again as long as I live. It may have been a little much, but that's how bad my hangover was. Besides, it could have been a lot worse. I could’ve ended up puking my guts out like I usually did.

 

        I stuffed my artwork into my portfolio and grabbed everything I needed to take home with me. The rest was the studio's. I turned down the long hallway heading towards the exit, when I saw Bill walking towards me.

 

         "See you tomorrow.” I said, forcing a tiny, fake smile.

 

        “No you won't. You won't be coming back.” he said. I looked down, realizing that he did in fact know that I was late.

 

        I had just been fired.

 

        I looked back up at Bill, who gave me a big, cheesy, fake smile, and then proceeded to make his way past me. He could have at least has the decency to fire me before I had worked the whole damn day. I think it was his way of getting back at me for being late.

 

        I made my way to the front entrance, pushing open the heavy doors, and man, did the weather add on to my pissy mood. It was pouring rain.

 

        I walked out into the rain, holding my folder close so that the art inside didn't get wet. Not that I cared too much. None of it was really worth keeping.

 

        I stood there for nearly five minutes, awaiting the sight of a taxi that never came. Screw it, I thought. With the rain already soaked through my clothes, I decided to just walk back to the apartment. After all, I couldn't get anymore soaked than I already was.

 

        As I walked down the streets of New York, smells of food filled the air, and I had remembered that I hadn't eaten all day. But that wasn't the only thing I had to worry about. How was I supposed to pay my share of the rent? And then I remembered: the new roommates. If they ended up renting the place, the pay would end up being much smaller, except I hated the fact that I'd have to be living with several strangers. It was hard enough living with the party girl Loretta, though I was quickly getting used to her crazy antics.

 

        By the time I reached the apartment, I was so tired I practically crawled up the 7 flights of stairs. I was completely drenched with water, and I was pretty sure my artwork was too, but I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of my soaked clothes and sleep my hangover away.

 

        I reached into my pocket, pulling out my keys and unlocking the door. I limped inside the flat, kicking off my muddy sneakers and tossing my soaked art folder on the floor next to them. I wanted to collapse on the floor right there with them, but I don't. If I did I wouldn't be able to get back up. Instead I just lean up against the door, taking a moment to catch my breath. It was strangely quiet in there; usually Loretta's band would be hanging out here, and the place would be filled with hippies. It was also very clean, and didn't smell like weed or alcohol like it usually did.

 

        I heard Loretta's voice in the kitchen, who was talking to a pair of voices that I didn't recognize. And that's when it hit me: she must have been giving the tour of the apartment to the two new roommates. The roommates. I had completely forgot about them. And here I was, standing here drenched with water and looking like s**t with my black eye.

 

        I quickly dashed to my room in the back of the apartment so that no one could see me. I crept into my room, quietly closing the creaky door behind me. Oh how I just wanted to fall onto my warm bed, but I also didn't want it getting soaked with water. I walked over to my closet, tracking water in from behind me. Now my headache was hurting more than ever, and I could actually feel my eye pulsing. My entire body was aching. I pulled off all of my wet clothes, tossing them in a pile on the floor. I reached into my closet, feeling around for the softest, warmest thing I could find. I settled on an old sweater that used to be my mothers. I put the sweater up to my nose, breathing in the warm familiar scent of home. Oh, home. How much I'd like to be there right now.

 

        Before I could even get the sweater on, a loud noise that came from next to me made me jump. I whipped my head in the direction of the door, witch had been flung open, to see a man standing there staring at me in shock.

 

        “Holy s**t!” I blurted out, grabbing a blanket off my bed as fast as I could to cover myself up.

 

        “Oh-” he yelped, coming back into reality. “I just, um-”

 

        “Do you mind?” I hissed at him through clenched teeth.

 

        “Uh, I'm sorry, I..” he stammered. “Suppose I should've knocked.” the guy said, forcing a sympathetic smile.

 

        “What're you..” I stuttered. “What're you doing?!”

 

        “Just checking the place out.” he said, as if nothing was wrong with what was going on here. “But it looks like I got way more than I bargained for.”

 

        I shifted myself uncomfortably, trying to cover myself better with the tiny blanket I had grabbed. I couldn't believe his audacity to get smart. “Are you too blind to see that the door was closed or are you just a dumb a*s?”

 

        He laughed at this. “Yeah, I am kind of a dumb a*s, but I'm also of the male affiliation, and you happen to be somewhat of an attractive girl, so pardon me if my eyes lingered for too long.”

 

        I could feel myself blush at his awkward timing. I had, in fact, taken notice of the blonde, who was quite attractive himself. But attractive or not, I'd really rather not give a stranger a peep show.

 

        “Who... are you?” I awkwardly asked after a moment.

 

        “Me? I'm Sam. I'd shake your hand but I have a feeling you'd want to keep it firmly attached to that blanket.” he said, giving me an awkward smile. “Sorry bout' all this...”

 

        “Julia.” I said flatly.

 

        “Well Julia, I'll leave you be.” he turned and walked out of the room, but not before peeking his head back in one last time.

 

        “You may want to invest in a lock.”

 

        “Yeah, I'll do that.” I said uncomfortably. I was too in shock of the humiliating situation that just took place in my bedroom. Sam smiled at me, then turned and walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

        I waited for a moment, making sure the strange blonde was done popping his head in to make smart remarks. I removed the old blanket and quickly tossed the sweater over my head. I grabbed a pair of black leggings out of my drawer before collapsing on my bed from exhaustion. I closed my eyes for what felt like only a few minutes, only to find that upon opening them, it had been an hour. Damn, I needed that.

 

        I pulled myself off of my bed, making my way to the door, leaning up against it to hear who was in the apartment. I could definitely make out Loretta's deep voice, that's for sure, But the other two voices weren't quite as familiar. But I had a feeling that one of the voices belonged to the skinny blonde from earlier.

 

        As the tenants continued to converse, I slowly made my way out of my bedroom, my hair still a bit damp from earlier. Loretta glance up at me, then turned back to the two roomies that sat across from her at the kitchen table.

 

        “Guys! This is Julia. She was hiding away when you first arrived. Julie, this is Micah.” she said, motioning towards the brown haired guy sitting across from her. I politely smiled, witch he kindly returned.

 

        “...and this is Sam.”

 

        The moment my green eyes met his bright blue ones, my teeth clenched and my eyes narrowed. “Yeah. We've met.”

 

        I sat down in the empty seat next to Loretta, specifically choosing not to sit next to one of the new tenants. I was anti-social, and was never good at making friends easily.

 

        “So...” Micah started. “There any good pubs around?”

 

        “You're in NYC, hon.” Loretta laughed. “Of course there are good pubs around. Actually, I’ve got a gig tonight at O'leary's tonight if you want to tag along.”

 

        “You sing?” the curly haired brunette asked. “What kind of music?”

 

        “The blues, baby.” Loretta smiled. “Not to blow my own horn or anything, but I’ve got a pretty good group of fans.”

 

        “If you don't mind me asking,” Micah interrupted, turning towards me. “what happened to your eye? You okay, or..”

 

        “Oh...” I started, not knowing how to respond. I turned towards Loretta, giving her a sour look. “You better start talking.”

 

        “You mean you don't remember getting into a fight with my guitarist last night?” she said smiling at me, trying to hold in her laughter.

 

        “I was in a fight?!” I shrieked in disbelief. I could see my black eye being an accident from my drunken clumsiness, but a fight? I didn't see that one coming.

 

        “Yeah, something about peanut butter.” she said, letting out the laughter she was trying so hard to keep inside. “Damn, you get weird when you're drunk.”

 

        “You're telling me I got into a fist fight with your guitarist over peanut butter?!” I said with wide eyes. I looked over at the new roommates who were both laughing. So much for making a good first impression.

 

        “If it helps at all, you busted her lip open pretty badly.” Loretta said trying to calm her laughter down.

 

        I turned away from her reaching into the bowl that sat in the middle of the table, grabbing some M&M's. I still couldn't believe what I had just heard.

 

        “So are you coming to the show tonight Julie?” Loretta asked, still smiling.

 

        “I don't know.” I sighed. “I was thinking about sitting this one out. I don't want to have to wake up with two black eyes.”

 

        “Aw, come on!” Loretta said, giving me a nudge. “It'll be fun! You can show Micah and Sam around.”

 

        “Oh, fun.” I uttered sarcastically. I just wanted to stay home and recover from this awful hangover.

 

        “Yeah, come on, spot!” Sam said grinning at me.

 

        “Spot?” I asked confused.

 

        He just smiled mockingly at me, motioning towards my black eye. “I'll make it up to you for earlier.”

 

        Loretta and Micah looked at each other, and I knew they had no clue what he was talking about. I just raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

 

        “Beer on me.”

 

        “If I wanted a beer, I could just look in the fridge.” I snapped. There was nothing more I wanted to do right now than kick his skinny a*s.

 

        “Julie, please come.” Loretta begged, giving me puppy eyes.

 

        “Whatever.”

 

        “Is that a yes?” she asked. I just rolled my eyes, indicating that that was indeed a yes.

 

        “Yay!” she screeched with delight. “The show starts in two hours. You'd better be right up front.”

 

        Loretta wasn't joking when she said there was plenty of good bars around. O'leary's must have been the most popular bars in the east village, and damn, did it fill up fast. The tiny pub didn't seem so tiny once it was packed- the place could hold about 300 people at the most. We didn't end up being in the front row like she wanted, though. Instead, the three of us were somewhere squished at a tiny table in the middle of the pub. Loretta had said the show started at 7, but didn't say that her and her band wouldn't be on until 10.

 

        We waited as her band sauntered the stage, getting everything into place. I couldn't help but look at her guitarist that I had apparently gotten into a fight with. Sure enough, she had a busted lip, just like Loretta had said. But that wasn't the only thing I noticed about her. She also had a dark bruise on the side of her face. I couldn't help but think if I did that to her, or if she just happened to get into another fight about peanut butter just with somebody else.

 

        After a quick mic check, Loretta announced their first song, she gripped the microphone, gave her band a look, and the bluesy music started.

 

        Micah and Sam were in awe, I could tell. Her smokey voice ran perfectly through the notes, only letting loose on the high notes, that made it seem like the room was on fire. (maybe that was just the headache I still had.) I’ll admit, I was a bit jealous, due to the fact that the whole reason I moved to the city was to do what she was doing right now.

 

        When the song was finally over, the entire room erupted into applause.

 

        “She's astounding, isn't she?” I spoke up after the room had quieted down a bit. Micah looked over at me and just nodded, too amazed for words.

 

        “So what do you do?” Micah smiled, looking over at me with his dark brown eyes. “You a lawyer or doctor, or somethin'?

 

        “God no.” I laughed. “Where on earth did you get that idea?”

 

        “Oh, I dunno. You seem like the doctor type... sorta well put together, I guess.” he smiled sweetly at me.

 

        “Mmm, you mean besides the fact that I got so drunk that I don't remember getting into a fight with someone over peanut butter.” I smiled, rolling my eyes.

 

        Micah just laughed. “Yeah, besides that.”

 

        “Not even close.” I said, bringing us back to the topic. “I'm an artist. Well, and a musician.”

 

        “What kind of music do you play?”

 

        “A little bit of everything.” I said, leaning towards him so I could hear him better. “I’ve been playing the piano ever since I was young.”

 

        “So then what are you doing sitting down here with us?” he smiled. “You should be up there on that stage. Why don't you just join Loretta’s band?”

 

        “Who needs two pianists?” I shrugged.

 

        “Ah, I see.”

 

        “What about you?” I asked. “You don't happen to be a musician too, are you? Because that would be a really weird coincidence if-”

 

        “No, no, no, nothing like that.” he laughed, taking a drink of the beer that sat on the table in front of him. “I never really had any rebellious moments in high school, so this was the time to do it.”

 

        “Yeah, I feel ya, man.” Sam replied, as if he was half listening to the conversation.

 

        “I can't help but think that you had plenty of rebellious moments in high school.” I said, pushing my dark waves out of my face.

 

        “Well, if you call smoking a few joints 'rebellious'.” he laughed. “Now college on the other hand-”

 

        “College?!” I interrupted, almost choking on my drink. “You...went to college?!”

 

        “What?” he said, pretending to act offended, but still smiled. I noticed Micah laughing at my reaction.

 

        “How long did you last there?” I asked, still laughing. I just couldn't get over the fact that this stoner even knew what college was.

 

        “Not long, about a year.” he said, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips, only to find that it was empty.

 

        “Well why are you in New York and not in your precious college?” I asked.

 

        “He got kicked out” Micah interrupted, clearly enjoying the fact that I was bashing on his best friend.

 

        “Wow. What'd you do?” I said leaning in towards him. “You cook crystal or something?”

 

        “Close.” he said, smiling and leaning towards me. He glared at me with his blue eyes. “Pot.”

 

        “You don't seem like the guy who'd go to college.” I said leaning back in my chair.

 

        “Well you don't seem like the kind of girl to judge people.”

 

        “Oh, I see how it is.” I said, giving him a sarcastic grin. “You see me naked and all of a sudden you now what kind of girl I am, is that it?”

 

        “Wait, what?” Micah interrupted. If he wasn't fully paying attention a few minutes ago, he sure was now.

 

        “He walked in on me changing this morning.”

 

        “Sam...” Micah sighed, looking over at him in exasperation. I just looked at Micah and sighed.

 

        “What?! Like I knew you were changing-” the blonde stopped himself. “You know what spot? Lets start over. I'm Sam.”

 

        He held out his hand, waiting for me to shake it. I rolled my eyes, but shook his hand if it would make him shut up.

 

        “Julia.” I replied. “What a pleasure to meet you, Sam. Oh, and don't call me spot, I freakin' hate it.”

 

        “Not sure you shoulda' told him that.” Micah murmured under his breath so only I could hear. Sam, who clearly overheard, gave me an evil smirk.

 

        “Wonderful. Now if you excuse me, spot, I’m going to get a refill. Be back momentarily.” He said as he stood up and turned towards the bar, but not before I could call after him.

 

        “Don't forget that beer you promised me!”

 

        So much for that vow I made earlier about never drinking ever again.

 

Author's Note

I did it. I finally wrote the first chapter without getting bored out of my mind and giving up like I usually do. Please review!

And yes, that was a Breaking Bad reference I threw in earlier in the chapter.