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Graphic Liaisons
THE NOTEBOOK A prequel to "Graphic Liaisons"
Toni's empty stomach rumbled. She looked down at the list in the notebook. There were four items–milk, pasta, butter, and toilet paper. She had counted her change and that's all she could afford. Chuck had left the week before. He'd taken everything, including the rent money and the money she had set aside for groceries. Toni kept telling herself she was better off without him. But right now her stomach was tied in knots and her chest hurt. One more week and she wouldn't have a place to live. And without a job she had no idea what she was going to do, how she was going to take care of herself. Her situation was hopeless as far as she could see. The cashier rang up her meager purchases. Toni cringed as she listened to the beeps of the register scanner. Finally the clerk looked up, repeating the total to her. Toni bit her lip and carefully counted out the meager pile of coins, handing them to the clerk. Wow, she had a whole dime left. Wouldn't that take her far. She picked up the small plastic bag containing her groceries, thanked the clerk and moved away from the counter. With dragging feet, Toni walked towards the door of the small grocery store. She shuddered at the thought of the six blocks she would be required to walk to reach her small shabby apartment. It had been the best that she and Chuck could afford at the time. At the corner, she waited for the light to change and then stepped off the pavement at a brisk pace, eager to be off the street. * * * Sal Aguero stood several people behind the small attractive woman in line. He watched her. That's what he did. Sal studied people. As the editor of one of the most controversial magazines in the city, sizing people up quickly was in his job description. Her stance was tense, shoulders bowed. He watched as she came closer to the cashier, her small, elegant-looking hands opening and closing in tense fists. There was something about the way she was hunched, as if waiting for a blow. His instinct told him she had been ill-used in one way or another. She looked so small and fragile. Evem hard-hearted Sal's life-giving organ bled for the waif-like figure she presented. Unusual for him. He watched her small shoulders sag in a sigh of relief as she counted out the coins to the cashier, returning just a single silver one to her pocket. Then with head down and shoulders forward, she clutched the pitifully small bag and walking with quick bird-like steps left the store. Sal was surprised he felt such a wrenching when she left. He tried to shrug it off. He didn't usually travel in this part of town, but he had needed to follow-up on a lead and had just happened to stop in for a quick caffeine fix. But now he had this overwhelming urge to follow the woman to assure her everything was going to be okay. The cashier drew his attention. He pulled the change from his pocket. Normally, he wouldn't have thought about it, but he looked down at the coins and thought about the woman. Sal took for granted the jingling of change in his pocket, the number that he took out each night and dropped into the silver dish on his dresser. And he was reminded of the one solitary coin the young woman had placed back carefully into her pocket. He handed the requisite coins over to the cashier. Then, for some reason, his eyes dropped to the counter. A notebook lay there and he knew it belonged to his waif. He picked it up and turned it over. Opening it, he saw the pitiful list written in the upper corner of a page. Sal's eyes widened as they fell upon the artwork contained within the notebook's worn pages. The coffee forgotten, and with the notebook in hand, he raced from the store. Sal had to find her before she was lost in the crowd. He stopped on the sidewalk and looked frantically to try to determine which direction she might have taken. Letting out a quick breath, he sited her in the middle of a crosswalk. He hurried to catch the light before it changed. Sal's long strides brought her within reach as she stepped onto the sidewalk on the other side. "Miss," he called to her. "Miss, your notebook."
* * * Toni stopped as a very masculine, tanned hand caught lightly at her arm, halting her progress. Her mind had been elsewhere, and at first what he was saying didn't register. She turned towards him and noticed what he held in his other hand. Her notebook. How had she left it behind? Toni looked at the face of the man holding it. She didn't know him, he was certainly very attractive. He stood out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. Toni clutched her bag tightly. He didn't look the type to try to mug her. "Are these your sketches?" She was reaching for the notebook and stopped at his question. "Why?" Who was he? Why did he want to know about the drawings? He put a hand into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Then he pulled a gold pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He turned the card over and using the notebook as a base, wrote a name and phone number on the back. "If this is your work," he was saying without looking up, "I have a job for you." He stopped writing and looked at her expectantly. "What?" She was dumbfounded. Then she asked suspiciously. "What kind of job?" He smiled. It changed the aristocratic, haughty look to boyish eagerness. Wow. "My name is Sal Aguero. I'm the editor of Calisto Magazine. We have an opening in the art department and I think, from looking at these sketches, you might just be the artist we've been looking for." Toni was speechless. He placed the card into her unresisting hand, and then held the notebook out to her. "That's my card, and the name and number on the back is the art director. Give him a call. Unless, of course, you already have a job you're happy with?" He stood waiting, obviously wanting her to answer. Slowly Toni shook her head. She was dazed by the offer. She was speechless. She was suspicious. "Why me? Do you always go around offering people you don't know, jobs?" He shook his head. "No, not usually. But when I saw your notebook and the distinctive drawings, I knew I couldn't just let you go. You will call?" Toni nodded her head. "Yes, and thank you. I appreciate the offer." "If you're as talented as I think you are, you're exactly the fresh look I want." Toni saw him glance up and around. "Do you have far to go? Can I walk you home?" Chuck had never cared whether she was safe on these streets or not. It gave her a warm and protected feeling when Sal Aguero offered to walk with her. A small smile touched her lips as she shook her head. "No, I'll be okay. But thanks for offering." For the first time in a long time Toni felt a flicker of life re-asserting itself. "Yes," she said in a stronger voice. "I'm going to be okay." She could tell he didn't want to leave her there. He again glanced around. She started to turn away. "Wait a minute." She turned back questioningly. "What's your name?" "Oh. It's Toni. Toni Fallon." He nodded, apparently satisfied. "Well, Toni Fallon, I'll see you soon." She smiled, turned, and walked away. * * * Sal shook his head as he watched her disappear around a corner. Why did he feel this sense that a part of himself had just walked away? Hard-hearted Sal did not feel...anything...let alone this yearning. Why had he come after her like this? He had almost forgotten to get her name. What if she didn't turn up for the interview? Panic overwhelmed him. That was definitely a feeling he wasn't used to. What he needed was to get back to the office, then he'd get these odd emotions under control. After all, it was the artwork he was after. For the magazine. She could have been wart-covered and a gnome and it wouldn't have mattered. He would have still offered her the job. Of course, the little devil that sat on his shoulder just snickered. Sure, Sal, you keep believing that. * * * When Toni arrived back at her apartment, she was still in shock after the encounter with the magazine editor. She shook her head, still finding it hard to believe. The apartment didn't seem as cold as when she left. Her hunger wasn't as severe. She sat at the small wooden table in the kitchen and opened her notebook. Her breath caught and she stared hard at the page before her. Her eyes burned with tears, her throat closed. Why had he done it? Staring back at her was a crisp green fifty dollar bill.
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Stories on this Site are the original works of Adrianna Dane Copyright 2005-2007 Adrianna Dane |
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