2. Piper
CHAPTER 2
Piper
O ne of my bestest friends in the whole world is Sylvianne Locklin. She's a full-time mafia and spy romance author known as Dixie Daryl in the bookish community. Syl is three years older than me, so she jokes she gets to play older sister to me, which is a thing that, having grown up as an only child, I have to say I never thought I could ever have, but that I now cherish very much.
We met in the chat group that had been put together by the organizers of an online writing conference when I started dipping my toe in the publishing industry. We got to see each other in real life for the first time about three years ago at a romance author convention called Steaming Up Las Vegas , and we’ve been as close as real sisters ever since.
My friend has been going through a life-altering event for the last few months, and this, in a roundabout way, is the reason why I’m in her apartment here in Phoenix right now.
After being together for almost four years, Syl and her then-boyfriend went through an amicable split six months before they were due to get married because he came out of the closet to her in Will otherwise, you get precious little done.
And I know it's all on me and that if I sat them down and explain to them that from nine-to-five I'm as busy as anybody else and can't sit down and have a chat, they would totally understand, but I'm too chicken to do it and risk hurting their feelings, so my writing time gets interrupted. A lot.
And I end up writing at night, which isn't healthy since work cuts into my sleeping time this way.
I've been working like this for about a year, and by now, I'm so used to this routine that, even here, I haven't been able to break the habit yet –a thing I hope to accomplish in the coming weeks.
During my college years in New York, I lived on campus and had a roommate. Then, while I was doing a master's at Northwest back in Seattle, I lived in this out-of-the-way building and again shared with two roommates because, back then, I had a lot of expenses for the launch of a series and so I could not afford a whole place to myself. Needless to say, the experience was less than enjoyable considering how shy and reserved I am. I tried to make it work, even hoped I could become friends with them for a while, but it never happened.
My parents wanted to help me economically with the series launch, but I wanted to do it on my own, so I needed a cheap place to stay.
My writing routine was different and way healthier then. I wrote early in the mornings, waited tables in the afternoon, and studied and worked on my series launch in the evening.
So, when Syl proposed her plan to me, I was absolutely thrilled at the prospect because it would give me a chance to train myself back into a normal nine-to-five working schedule.
This is the first time I'm living on my own in a big city and the fact that I get to stay in my bestie's lovely apartment with all the comforts while also giving her the tranquility she needs as she travels is the cherry on top.
For the last five days, I've shared the place with its rightful owner, and I've come to realize maybe it wasn't me that sucked at being friendly with those girls from my old apartment. Maybe I just got unlucky when it came to roommates in the past because it seems I sure could live with my bestie long-term with no problem and never ever end up killing her in one of my books in elaborate, gruesome and colorful ways. Not even a teensy bit.
I’m going to miss the fuck out of her while she’s gone, and we’ll get a week together when she comes back before I go back to Seattle and start to apartment hunt.
And if being able to finally get some extended uninterrupted writing time after enjoying my bestie’s company in RL would by some chance be not cool enough, there’s also the stunning view from the balcony.
I set up my telescope there to gaze at the stars, but the skyline itself, both in daylight and at night, is quite arresting. I could spend hours just looking at the sky or people-watching if I hadn’t had this much work to do.
I'm on the highest floor but three of a building that's twenty-story tall. I've never lived in a place so high up in the sky. I freaking love it.
Syl’s place is a huge three-bedroom, two-bathroom open-space flat in this state-of-the-art, luxury boutique high-rise called The étoile . It’s on Central Avenue downtown, which is only a couple of streets away from where my male protagonist’s apartment would be situated. If he were real outside of my head, that is.
So, being here is just perfect for so many reasons.
I mean, even the name of the building is awesome. It’s French and basically translates to The Star . I couldn’t have asked for better.
I'm sure with time, I'm going to grow out of the writing-only-when-it's-night habit, and I will go back to a healthier schedule. I've just got to train myself to write in the mornings like before.
But for a few more days, I’m just going to go with the flow and write at whatever time I feel like.
Right now, my brain doesn’t want to sleep. It wants to write, so I’ll go with it. The only problem are the stupid broken headphones!
I sigh, returning to my perusal of what's for sale on the app.
After a few minutes of scanning and scrolling, I finally lay my eyes on a good find.
It's the same brand as my current pair but is a definite upgrade. Better performance, better noise-canceling function, different kinds of connecting options, and a longer battery life. Perfect.
I click on it and go to the product page.
I put the headphones in the basket and go into my account to change my address to Sylvianne's here in Phoenix before I end up shipping them to my little cottage on my parents' property in Seattle by mistake.
When I go back to the basket, I see that I picked the black ones, but, recalling to have seen them in different color options, I go back to the product page, and that's when I spot it.
This store also has the same headphones in purple –which is my favorite color– and they come with adorable tiny cat ears on top.
Meow , come to Mama!
I switch the black headphones for the feline-themed purple ones and my lips purse on their own when I see that the delivery date has changed to Thursday with this model.
It’s almost a week away. Dammit!
I can't go without a pair for so long, but the Zon only has the faster delivery option for the black ones.
Ugh.
Okay, lady. You're twenty-four, not four!
You need these headphones to work, and you need them ASAP.
You can't wait all these days just because the other pair is extra cute, so go with the plain, boring black ones and call it a day.
I roll my eyes at the responsible little voice in my head. The bitch is right, though. I’ve got to go with duty.
I’ll just make the purple catty ones my reward for when I finish the book since having a spare would be preferable to ending up without a functioning pair again if the black ones were to break. Brilliant plan!
With my mind made up, I retrieve the black ones on the product page only to realize they are sold out now!
Great, that’s just my luck! All other options can’t be delivered sooner than Thursday.
I’m going to have to go look for a different pair now.
Crap.
My break is almost over, and I didn’t even get a glass of water or check my messages, and I’ve got to go back to writing!
I order the purple headphones –add a pink pair just because I can’t help myself, the pink ones have glitter on the headband– and go back to my search for a different pair that can get here sooner, and that’s when I remember something that Sylvianne told me this afternoon while we were at the airport.
She said that in this building all the floors but the top two have multiple apartments. Floors fifteenth and sixteenth have three units, floor eighteen is the sub-penthouse, and the highest floor has the penthouse. Floor seventeenth, which is the one I’m staying on, has two apartments. One is Syl’s, and the other is sitting empty. I’m sure of it.
She also said that they are still putting the finishing touches on it, and it won't go on the market for another month or so. Basically, I've got the floor all to myself.
Another thing my bestie was sure to mention, knowing my love for playing music, was that, unless I keep the windows and balcony doors open, there's no way they can hear what's going on in this apartment a story up or a story down because of the way they built the flooring, walls and ceilings with some kind of soundproof system or something.
If I were to write with music in the background playing it through the speakers at the loudest volume setting available –which is how I need to have it if it's going to help me concentrate on my writing– a next-door neighbor on the same floor would undoubtedly hear, but there's no one staying there and no one else in the building is going to hear a thing if everything is closed up tight.
I'm pretty confident I could get away with it, at least for one night, without any trouble. And then there's the weekend, and I did promise my parents I would take some time off and not do anything heavier than wander around downtown to do some research.
After that, I'll try the morning routine again like planned, especially if I'm still researching stuff. I might even try writing on the go for a few days and see how I like it. And by then it will be Thursday and both new pairs of headphones will be here. So, really, tonight is the only problem. And besides, it wouldn’t be the whole night: I think I’ll work only a couple of hours more, and then be off to bed.
No biggie.
I get myself a glass of water and jug it down as I set up the speaker system to play Pink on a loop, and then I quickly check my phone.
I got voice messages from both Mom and Dad. They know it would be pointless to call when I’m in the writing cave and that iMessage texting or voice recordings are the most effective way to reach me.
I play the clip from my dad first:
“Hey, kiddo. How’s Phoenix treating you? How’s the book going? Did Sylvianne leave already?”
I record an audio reply answering all his questions and then listen to Mom’s message:
“Hi, darling. How are you? I know you’re writing, but please –please– don’t forget to eat and do stop for breaks when your timer goes off, okay? I’m heading out to bed, and I’ll try to give you a call tomorrow while you’re out doing your thing. Remember to keep hydrated, it’s hot over there! Love you!”
I smile. She’s such a worrywart!
I take a selfie with the tall glass of water to my lips and send it to her.
Then I send her a voice memo:
“Hey, mom. I’m good. Writing, taking breaks, eating, and, yes, drinking water. Don’t worry. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Love you. Sleep tight!”
I walk back into Syl's office and sit back at her desk.
I ask Alexa to start the loop as I wake up my laptop, and then my hands go back to flying on the mechanical keyboard attached to it, the clickety-clack and the harmonica intro of the song taking me away from reality as I once more jump into my story.