He left me.
I couldn’t believe it.
Sure, I planned on sending him off myself, but he just pulled up to my hotel, dropped me off, and left me.
Fuck.
That didn’t feel right at all. How was a girl supposed to react to something like that? Sure, I got into story mode, and pumped out a few cover stories for the event. Two hit the evening news, and all three would be in the morning papers.
I talked with the firemen, and the police supervisor on the scene. The primary concerns focused on the building more than anything else. There would have to be structural tests before the hotel could be opened again — of course the lobby would need to be rebuilt as well. Gary got into the whole scene with me, asking questions, and pointing out some good perspectives. Slate seemed happy to play with his laptop, and talk to Ore.
I finished up a fourth story on the way back to my hotel, and when I got out I thought he was following, but instead he closed the door, and said he would see me at eight in the morning — through the open window. Not even a kiss or hug or ass grab. Nothing. Just drove off, while the window slid upward, and closed.
Double dub fuck.
I stood there, with the open laptop in my hand, watching him drive off, and felt like an idiot without understanding why.
I hated that feeling.
After a minute of standing there, I took the three carat diamonds out of my ears, and went inside.
In my room I took a long shower, then drew a hot bath, called down for every oil I could think of, and planned on a long Me-Time soaking. By the time the oils and soaps arrived though, I lost interest, and made a margarita to take out on the balcony.
Yesterday I didn’t really want anything to do with these other brothers, and now I felt like a snubbed lover. What the hell? How could the world change at such a core level so quickly?
This implied of course, there were normally time requirements, and I knew that wasn’t the case. Einstein proposed that nothing went faster than the speed of light. Well, I had news for him, the speed of thought left light in the dust, and the Speed of Emotions believed Thought was too slow to worry about.
When I was with Kane, I felt amazed, and part of something huge — and then I found myself being amazing with no limits that could hold me.
With Slate I felt powerful, and more than equal to anyone around me – including El Presidente. These were heady emotions, and I had never felt like this with anyone else. I wasn’t sure who I would choose now either. If Slate turned out to be as amazing in bed, there was no ground to stand on and say, here is the better choice. But then, from my lesson given by Inanna, I wasn’t exactly choosing for myself.
This brought my day back into perspective. I mentally thanked Inanna for her visit, because it was proving to be the touchstone I needed in these troubled waters. Margarita in hand, I leaned against the railing, and looked out across the lights of my favorite city in the world, and wondered about the people below. Which of these two men would these people best be served by? Perhaps the question should be asked as; which of them would do the least amount of harm?
Stepping inside, I picked up my laptop, and wrote the question in both ways on a new document, and stared at the words. Both should be asked. Both needed the better answer.
While staring blindly at these questions, my email indicator popped up, telling me I had a new message from [email protected]
I think I stared at that longer than I did the questions.
Getting my brave up, I clicked the indicator, and opened the message. Only a hyperlink was in the message, so I clicked, and the website for the Union Tribune News for San Diego opened to an article about a major drug raid happening, which sources said hit the Cortez Cartel hard. Experts expected retaliation from the cartel. Over a ton of cocaine had been seized, worth nearly a half a billion in US currency.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, remembering what Slate said about Kane’s current activity. Impressive, but … I didn’t think it would happen so fast. How was he going to tie this to the Loco’s? It wasn’t even a full week yet. Then I noticed the date on the web page — it was for five days from now – and the bi-line said I wrote the article.
Leaning back, I took a sip of my margarita. Well, I guess if you’re a goddess, time is sort of a suggestion, and breaking its laws, little more than a local misdemeanor.
Inanna didn’t send this to me just to show off, however. She was giving me a heads-up, and likely this article had something to do with the questions I had just been staring at.
I knew I was connected to Kane, and that connection continued to exist. Also, I felt connected to Slate. I felt that if I concentrated on either of them, I would know where they were, and perhaps even glean an idea of what they were up to — perhaps even how they were feeling. I didn’t do this, because I wasn’t comfortable with the thought. It felt intrusive, and I didn’t want them doing it to me.
Inanna was different. Obviously we had a connection. We were somehow the same, in a way. I didn’t feel like she had invaded my space. It was closer to feeling like I had been shouting, and she couldn’t help but overhear, and had sent this as a way of getting me to quiet down.
“Sorry,” I said, looking up into the stars. “Didn’t mean to keep you up.”
My indicator dinged again. Opening the email, I read the words, “No worries.”
I laughed.