Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
I t’s almost 10pm, and I find myself standing outside the Roxy hotel.
When I got home, I collapsed on my bed, but couldn’t get any sleep. I instead growled into my pillow, frustrated at the noise in my head, and leaned over to grab my tablet and scroll through my pitch notes. I sat up against the pillow, which is not comfortable, but better than trying to work while lying down. I looked through ideas, whittling them away to find the gold in the core of them. Once I got down to three solid pitches, I figured there’s no more sense in putting it off.
I threw my tablet into my messenger bag, slung it over my shoulder, threw a coffee down my throat in the kitchen and marched out the door.
Now, here I am, standing outside a hotel and wondering if my future in this industry is all going to lie on how well I can spread my legs and not my ideas.
I step from one foot to the other, nervously weighing my options. I look up at the hotel windows, wondering if Hank is looking down at me from his.
“Did you need one?”
I look down to see a thick set man, with thick jowls and a block of grey hair that almost looks like it was moulded onto his skull, holding out a cigarette to me. I guess I’ve been stood out here a while.
“Oh. Thanks, but no. I’m…I’m just deciding if I want to meet someone.” I hold out my hand in a ‘no thanks’ gesture.
“Sounds like you made your decision already, kid.” The man puts the cigarette to his mouth and lights it. “If’n ya wanted to meet someone in there, you’d be inside by now. Seems to me, if yer out here ‘stead of in there, then your gut is telling you it’s not the way to go.”
I stare at him, open my mouth to answer back that it’s more complicated than that, but then I stop. Because it isn’t.
I pull out my tablet and stare at it. This thing is filled with ideas, with notes, with the work that I put my heart and soul into. My future should rely on that, not on anything else my body can do.
Stashing my tablet, I turn to thank the stranger but he’s not there. All that’s left is a still smoking cigarette on the floor, the end still glowing red slightly. I stub it out with my foot, twisting on it, and marching back the way I came.