A Work of Fiction: Chapter 1, The Yellow Rose

AUTHOR'S COMMENTARY: This could be the beginning of a contemporary romance novel. I don't know where I'm going with it. I wrote it several months ago and it has been sitting in my draft section all these months. I'm tempted to leave it as is just because I don't know what to add to it. The beginning is just as any other beginning of a romance novel, is what I'm thinking. **heavy sigh** Oh well... it's rated pg but read at your own risk!

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When I saw him, I didn't think much of him. He wasn't drop-dead-beautiful nor was he hard on the eyes. He was an average looking guy. At first sight, I noticed the flash on his ears - diamond studs, left and right. Shiny, bald head. Gold herringbone chain. The look was so 90's! I giggled and turned away because surely he knew I was laughing at him. He approached me anyway.

He asked, "Is this seat taken?"

I shook my head, "No."

He turns the chair around so the back is facing forward and he seats himself on the chair.

"How are you enjoying your evening?"

We're in a club. The music is loud. We're seated near the dance floor. This isn't the best place to have a conversation and it seemed like he was headed in that direction.

Loudly I respond, "What did you say? I can't hear you." I shake my head and cup my ear to add a touch of sign language. Of course, I heard what he said but I just wasn't feeling any real chemistry between he and I. Bottom line, I just wasn't interested.

He smiles and quickly asks, "Can I have your number?"

I'm perplexed. I didn't exactly give him a warm welcome. I didn't suggest to him with any mannerisms that I was interested in what he had to say. In fact, I think I was being downright cold.

I respond again, shaking my head and cupping my ear, "What? What did you say?"

Seriously, what was he thinking asking for my number in all of 30 seconds?

He calls the waitress, orders a drink, whispers something in her ear and she scampers off.

I'm looking around for the rest of my 'girls'. They're all on the dance floor. I was bugged out that none of them saw me and hadn't come to my rescue yet.

The waitress returns with his drink and a single yellow rose bud. He hands the rose to me, smiles, and oh my goodness he had a couple of gold teeth. I'm so not feeling this dude even if he was kinda sweet with the single yellow rose. The gold teeth put me way past uninterested to damn near ready to run off to the ladies room for the entire evening.

I take the yellow rose, break most of the stem off and place the rose bud stem to rest on my left ear. Usual tradition in Hawai'i: flower over right ear means TOTALLY AVAILABLE. Flower over left ear means TAKEN and VERY SPOKEN FOR.

I tell him very loudly, "Thanks. You really shouldn't have."

He grins again with the gold teeth smile and I still have not thought of an escape plan and none of my girls had shown up to rescue me yet.

He sits there staring at me as though I'm a piece of steak in the market. Even though I'm ignoring his stares, I feel his eyes poring over me and I wonder what he's thinking. Why is he still sitting here waiting for my attention?

The music stops and Bobby Brown, Rock Witcha comes over the speakers. Slow music must mean the club is getting ready to close down. All I'm thinking is: Please don't ask me to dance... You will so ruin the "Rock Witcha" Experience for me.

He stands up, places his hand out and says, "May I?" The 80's song works well with this gentleman caller.

I look at his hand, not wanting to be too rude, I ask, "May you what?"

"May I have this dance?"

I take a deep breath, exhale and lead the way to the dance floor. I try to get as close to the stage as possible, not wanting to be seen with the 90's Flashback. He pulls me in close. He smells so good even after a full night in the club.