Thursday Throw Out

Happy Halloween week my friends.


I just want to say thank you to all of you who support me! I appreciate all the comments, instant messages and shares you give me! Having a friend or acquaintance message me out of the blue with encouraging words hits me right in the feels, and reinforces my ambition to become a recognized writer one day. So, kisses and love to all, I love the feedback, good or bad, so please keep it coming.


I wanted to bring you something creepy this week, being as it is Halloween. Unfortunately, that is just not in the cards. I am working on a few things, but not all are up to the standard of something I would post for all to read. This being said I do have something for you. I came up with it in the car on the ride home one day, and I hope it piques your interest.


The Rock Star Diaries

“Mr. Rosedale’s room please.”

The concierge gives me a knowing look as he types his name into the computer. Really, I cannot blame him. It is eleven p.m. and I just showed up in a hotel lobby, asking for a rock star by his assumed name at the front desk. This whole situation has call girl written all over it.

 The attendant scribbles some numbers on a piece of paper, and slides it and a key card across the desk to me with a smirk. I roll my eyes. How the hell did I get roped into ghost writing an autobiography for Gage Thorne, front man for Cyanide Mosquito? Oh, that is right, he asked for a writer that wasn’t attractive, so he wouldn’t be tempted. I hate him already.

Hitting the button for the penthouse suite, I punch in the code. This isn’t my first rodeo interviewing a big shot in this hotel. Two giggling females join me on the elevator just before the doors close. I can tell by their attire that they were just out at a club of some sort. They eyeball me with snotty little expressions, before blocking the keypad and repeating what I had already done. Looks like Mr. Thorne is expecting company.

When the elevator doesn’t stop the girls get fidgety. I smile inwardly as they stare at the frumpy girl with the glasses, obviously headed to the same floor they are. I focus on my phone to block out their stares. I hate being the center of attention, this is the main reason I took a editorial job at a publishing house. The entire job consists of research and faceless facts. The perfect job for those who like to hide behind their books.   

The lift finally stops, the doors opening to the creamy white walls of the presidential suite lobby. I quickly cross the space between the elevator and the door, sliding my key card, not even glancing at the girls. A large body guard stands just inside the entrance. He looks at me knowingly, understanding my purpose there.

“Miss Jarnot I assume?” His deep voice reverberates against the walls in the small space. I give a small nod as he extends his hand. “I am Able, Mr. Thorne’s assistant. He is waiting for you in the sitting area.” He swings his large arm in the direction of the sunken lounge just as the two girls cross the threshold. I can hear him greet them, but pay no mind to their conversation as I make my way toward my charge.

Gage Thorne, sits spread eagle on the white suede couch. One foot is propped up on the couch cushion, as he leans back, shirt unbuttoned and hanging from his shoulders, one arm slung wide against the back.  He holds a book in the other hand,  arm resting against his knee, a pair of bifocals riding low on his nose. Glancing at me with a disinterested look, he shuts the book and tosses it aside. Ugg, let’s just get this over with.

“Bridgette, I assume.” Gage purrs in his British accent. “Very nice to meet you.”

I stand and sneer at him. I can’t help it, I am not one to be impressed by fame or money.  Judging by his demeanor, he is well into the bottle of scotch that sits on the coffee table in front of him. He readjusts himself so he is leaning forward on his knees, and assesses me in a way that makes me feel like I have an extra head growing out my neck. I stand silently and calculate my odds of getting fired if I turn and walk out right now. My guess is, I wouldn’t make it to the lobby before getting the axe.

Plastering on a smile I extend my hand. “Very nice to meet you as well, Mr. Thorne.” He grasps my hand weakly, but I shake his like I was taught by my father, strong, and firm.  I take a seat just down from him. Setting my briefcase on the cushion between us, I open it and retrieve my notepad and pen. Glancing quickly at my notes, I cross my ankles, setting the tablet on my lap and pushing up my glasses. “Where should we start?”

“Oh, darling, we are not starting tonight, this was just an interview. You can come back tomorrow, at noon. Right now, I have some birds waiting for me in my hot tub.”  He winks and flashes me his surgically perfect smile.

My blood boils, but I fashion a smile, which I hope is believable. I can feel my cheeks heat, as I shove my supplies back into my briefcase a little too forcefully. My boss never mentioned I would be working on Thorne time when he gave me this assignment. Looks like I will be spending my Saturday afternoon here at The Peninsula Hotel. 

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Adu my lovelies