Read Online The Reality Conspiracy by Joseph A. Citro - Free Book Online
Authors: Joseph A. Citro
Tags: Horror
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miss?"
"Oh, yes, thanks." She took off her sunglasses and put them on the bar. "I'd like a glass of white wine, please."
The bartender smiled as if to say, Good choice , and reached below the bar for a bottle and glass. He was a nice-looking guy. Dark hair, perfectly trimmed mustache, serious features. He wore a pink and white striped shirt, its sleeves rolled up just, enough to expose a tiny, tasteful tattoo. Karen tried to see exactly what it was, but she couldn't. And she didn't want to stare.
When he poured her a generous serving in a large goblet, she noticed he had a small gold ring in his left earlobe. It looked good. Elegant. A little exotic. Like a pirate.
The wineglass felt pleasantly cold in her hand. Her first sip went down so smoothly that she felt some distant tension ease. Already she was starting to relax.
Then she rememberedâ
Five minutes more , she thought, checking her watch again.
Karen suspected that the bartender was looking at her, stealing quick questioning glances as he went about his business. No doubt he was thinking, What's wrong with this woman? Why doesn't she have a man with her?
Or worse yet, This woman must be an alcoholic, otherwise, why is she drinking alone?
I must drink this slowly , she cautioned herself.
Karen stopped before the self-deprecation soared out of control. It was stupid. Why did she always feel she was so conspicuous? In reality, she faded into the background like some potted palm, so inconsequential that people didn't check to see if it was real or plastic.
Conspicuous or invisible? Which is it? You can't have it both ways, kiddo .
No. The pretty women were the ones who got stared at, not her. Neverâ
Jeff was now twenty minutes late. She'd waited five minutes too many!
Karen bit her bottom up and stood up. She placed her purse solidly on the bar and dug around in it for her billfold. She took out a five and left it by her half-empty wineglass.
She felt as if every diner's eyes were on her. She's been stood-up by her boyfriend , they thought. Karen felt herself blushing. Without looking around she walked straight to the glass door and stiff-armed it open.
Jeff was pulling up in a taxi.
"Hey!" he called, pushing the cab door open, nearly tumbling out of the back seat. "Hey, Karen, wait!"
She heard him but didn't acknowledge.
From the corner of her eye she could see him groping at his pocket for money. He produced a money clip, fanned the bills, selected one, and nearly threw it at the driver.
Karen crossed to the other side of the street.
"Karen! Hey, Karen!"
The cabbie shouted after Jeff, "Hey, buddy, your change. Hey, man, dis is a twenny!"
Karen stopped. Darn. She had left her Ray-Ban sunglasses on the bar. Could she just forget about them? Just keep going, eyes focused straight ahead, ignoring Jeff?
Darn. DARN.
Those sunglasses had cost her over sixty dollars. An indistinct voice that sounded very much like her mother's echoed from somewhere in her memory, ''"That's just throwing money away, Karen."
She turned.
She was enough of a Freudian to believe there are no accidents. Maybe she hadn't really forgotten her sunglasses, maybe sheâ
Jeff was zigzagging through the traffic to get to her. Horns drowned his cry, "Karen! Come on, will ya. Wait up!"
She stopped. Now, she wanted the sunglasses more than ever; she didn't want him to see her eyes.
He stood in front of her, sweating and harried. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Something came up."
"You could have called."
"How? You didn't tell me where you were staying. I tried to call that guy Godunov's office, but I couldn't find him in the book. So I tried directory assistance and they didn't have a listing. I even . . ." He looked over his shoulder in the direction he'd come from. "I even brought you a flower, but I left it in the damn cab."
"It's not Godunov," she said.
"What?" He looked greatly offended'. "What do you mean not good enough? You think I'm lying?"
She couldn't hold back
"Oh, yes, thanks." She took off her sunglasses and put them on the bar. "I'd like a glass of white wine, please."
The bartender smiled as if to say, Good choice , and reached below the bar for a bottle and glass. He was a nice-looking guy. Dark hair, perfectly trimmed mustache, serious features. He wore a pink and white striped shirt, its sleeves rolled up just, enough to expose a tiny, tasteful tattoo. Karen tried to see exactly what it was, but she couldn't. And she didn't want to stare.
When he poured her a generous serving in a large goblet, she noticed he had a small gold ring in his left earlobe. It looked good. Elegant. A little exotic. Like a pirate.
The wineglass felt pleasantly cold in her hand. Her first sip went down so smoothly that she felt some distant tension ease. Already she was starting to relax.
Then she rememberedâ
Five minutes more , she thought, checking her watch again.
Karen suspected that the bartender was looking at her, stealing quick questioning glances as he went about his business. No doubt he was thinking, What's wrong with this woman? Why doesn't she have a man with her?
Or worse yet, This woman must be an alcoholic, otherwise, why is she drinking alone?
I must drink this slowly , she cautioned herself.
Karen stopped before the self-deprecation soared out of control. It was stupid. Why did she always feel she was so conspicuous? In reality, she faded into the background like some potted palm, so inconsequential that people didn't check to see if it was real or plastic.
Conspicuous or invisible? Which is it? You can't have it both ways, kiddo .
No. The pretty women were the ones who got stared at, not her. Neverâ
Jeff was now twenty minutes late. She'd waited five minutes too many!
Karen bit her bottom up and stood up. She placed her purse solidly on the bar and dug around in it for her billfold. She took out a five and left it by her half-empty wineglass.
She felt as if every diner's eyes were on her. She's been stood-up by her boyfriend , they thought. Karen felt herself blushing. Without looking around she walked straight to the glass door and stiff-armed it open.
Jeff was pulling up in a taxi.
"Hey!" he called, pushing the cab door open, nearly tumbling out of the back seat. "Hey, Karen, wait!"
She heard him but didn't acknowledge.
From the corner of her eye she could see him groping at his pocket for money. He produced a money clip, fanned the bills, selected one, and nearly threw it at the driver.
Karen crossed to the other side of the street.
"Karen! Hey, Karen!"
The cabbie shouted after Jeff, "Hey, buddy, your change. Hey, man, dis is a twenny!"
Karen stopped. Darn. She had left her Ray-Ban sunglasses on the bar. Could she just forget about them? Just keep going, eyes focused straight ahead, ignoring Jeff?
Darn. DARN.
Those sunglasses had cost her over sixty dollars. An indistinct voice that sounded very much like her mother's echoed from somewhere in her memory, ''"That's just throwing money away, Karen."
She turned.
She was enough of a Freudian to believe there are no accidents. Maybe she hadn't really forgotten her sunglasses, maybe sheâ
Jeff was zigzagging through the traffic to get to her. Horns drowned his cry, "Karen! Come on, will ya. Wait up!"
She stopped. Now, she wanted the sunglasses more than ever; she didn't want him to see her eyes.
He stood in front of her, sweating and harried. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Something came up."
"You could have called."
"How? You didn't tell me where you were staying. I tried to call that guy Godunov's office, but I couldn't find him in the book. So I tried directory assistance and they didn't have a listing. I even . . ." He looked over his shoulder in the direction he'd come from. "I even brought you a flower, but I left it in the damn cab."
"It's not Godunov," she said.
"What?" He looked greatly offended'. "What do you mean not good enough? You think I'm lying?"
She couldn't hold back
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