Juilliard or Else (54 page)

To; Kelli Maine, Emily Snow, Katie Ashley, K.A. Linde, Gail McHugh, Kimberly Knight for taking the time to read some of Juilliard or Else and all your wonderful advice. I'll never forget you ladies. You don't know how much I look up to you as authors.

Anne Leigh for becoming one of my new sweetest friends. You're just an amazing writer who expresses herself perfectly in your writing. Your writing inspires me.

To my ladies in The Indie Chixx, for becoming my new buddies. I love you all!

To Audrey Harte. I get all teary eyed when I begin to think of all the work you've helped me with. I don't know where to begin. You helped me when I needed it most and when I almost gave up. Your advice on true edits completed this task and making my story 100 times better. We worked so well together and I take everything you showed me into my heart always to remember. You're an amazing editor with all that you've done for me and Juilliard. I can't express it enough to how grateful I am for you. Thank you so much <3

Angela at Fictional Formats. Thank you so much for squeezing me into your very busy schedule. Thank you for your patience and kindness and answering all my questions. You're one of the sweetest ladies I've ever met in this writing journey, even though we have only known each other in a short time. Thank you so much! ☺

To my greatest friend of all, Vanessa Churchill. You are my complete book partner. Thank you for believing in me to finish this. For reading for me and all things. You are a fabulous person and I'm so happy you're in my life!

My sister Melanie, for being the best sister a little sister could ever ask for. Carrie, my wonderful Mother. She always told me I could do anything, now I believe her.

Save the best for last. To my wonderful husband Brett and son ((Mini Reese)) for being so patient with me through this process, but still making me laugh every day. For dealing with me playing on the computer during the day, then working graveyards at night. For dealing with dirty clothes, no clean dishes and for letting me escape into the writing world in my head. I love you both so very much.

Turn the Page to read the first chapter in

A novel by Megan Myers.

Due out sometime in 2014

It sucks when you work into the wee hours of the night and have no life outside of it. Then come home to an empty house, only to remind you that no one is there waiting for you, with the exception of my very hyper chocolate lab.

Yup, Clyde is the only man that hasn't left me, but I secretly think it's because I keep him cooped up in the house all day and only take him out on a leash. He has no way of escaping me. Even then, he still tries to take off and chase after those darn squirrels… I swear those damn things just like to taunt him for fun. One of these days I'll let go of the leash to let him run free and then we'll see if the squirrels act just as tough as they do now, but that's for another day, another time.

Right now, all I want to do is get home, strip off these damn scrubs, take a nice hot shower to wash off the remaining germs that I came in contact with and slip into my nice comfy pajamas that will be waiting for me. All snuggly and warm.

Pulling into my townhome complex and parking in my spot, number eight. Which is pretty funny if you think about it, because that number isn't very lucky for me. It's a torcher number; or a damn curse. It sucks owning a townhouse without a garage, if I had one, then I wouldn't have to look at the damn number every day.

Dragging my tired ass out of my Tahoe, wondering why I even bought such a big vehicle in the first place. I'm single, with no kids. Unless you count Clyde, which I do, but a little sporty Camaro would had done just fine, but I've always wanted a Tahoe.

Of course, I didn't count on me still being single at the border line of my twenties. Okay, thirty. I'm thirty, but I like to round down the number. I always pictured myself being married to a hot Hollywood actor, living in the Hollywood Hills in a five million dollar mansion, with ten bedrooms and fourteen bathrooms, because I don't ever like to use the same bathroom twice in a week. Seriously, what are you supposed to do with fourteen bathrooms? Okay, who am I kidding? Those were my awesome dreams at night, but I certainly didn't picture myself still being single at this age.

I checked my mailbox before heading up the stairs to my door. Even before I reached my floor, I heard my sweet boy whimpering for me behind my red painted door to let him out so he can do his business. Still hanging on the hook is a very colorful Christmas wreath on the outside. Making a mental note to take that down, but I'm still within the timeframe to have Christmas decorations up, after all it's only January. So I'm good.

"I'm coming boy, just a second." I called out as I dug into my purse for my keys. Is it sad that I think of him as my child? Well, my four legged child, who is covered in fur, but he's still my child nonetheless. Putting my key in the lock and turned it to open up my door, I'm immediately greeted with happy barks and a wagging tail. If you listened really carefully you could almost make out a
'hi'.
Yes, I think my dog talks to me, don't judge, okay. Tossing my keys and mail on the entry way table and bending down to let him give me wet kisses across my nose and cheeks, making me a slobbery mess.

"Hey boy, did you hold down the fort today?" After scratching behind his ears for a while and giving him kisses back, I straightened my tired spine to head into my living room.

Being the type of person that can't stand the quiet I flipped on the TV to the Rock music channel, so I could have it as background music. Listening to Rock music helps drown out all the little voices floating around my head screaming, "You're single." "You're all alone."

Walking into my dream kitchen while bobbing my head to
Whore
by In This Moment, I contemplate about making me something to eat. Rummaging through my double door stainless steel refrigerator to see that I had everything to make a good ole healthy salad, but putting that off since a glorious hot shower was calling out to me first.

Heading down the hallway to my 'suite' as I like to refer to it, I pass by all my photos my lovely best friend, Becky put up. I'm not very good at decorating, so I let her OCD ass have free reign with my townhouse when I bought it.

Of course, I had to pay for all the decorations, but I'll admit that she did a kick ass job with it, way beyond what I would have done, which would have been nothing. Plain ole boring. She told me before, "Rach, you have to have some color in your life since you have nothing else."

Dang, she really knew how to throw a low blow.

Finally giving in, I let her have her way. She was like a little kid in a candy store, running in and out of my house during the first few weeks with different paint swatches trying to find the perfect color palate. She highlighted the hallway with a beautiful cream color, which accented the red she painted the living room. She then added some of my favorite family portraits that I cherished so much.

Walking into my room, I kicked off my shoes and headed towards my bathroom to turn on my shower so it could start warming up. I love my shower. That's my place to relax and let all the stresses of the world, plus work go right down the drain. When I first bought this townhouse, there wasn't much that needed to be renovated, but the shower was the one place I splurged on by going all out and it's beautiful.

It's big enough to fit at least four people. Of course, I haven't tested that theory out, but it would fit six of me, and since I'm averaged size at five four and one hundred and twenty pounds, we'll just say four.

Any who, back to my amazing shower.

I chose eight by eight with dark mocha travertine tiles to line the walls with those little bitty light brown squares going around the middle to pull the nice warm look together. There's also a bench, you know to shave your legs and what not. What did you think the bench was in there for?
Dirty mind
. The designer had three cubbies built into the wall to hold all my shampoo, conditioner, sponges, face wash, body wash, you get the picture, to hold all my girly shower stuff. But my real love in the shower had to be all the shower heads. The first one; is a huge round silver rain shower head that comes out of the ceiling, and then there's a handheld one on the wall along with full body jets that aligned either side.

Honestly to say I love my shower would be an understatement. If I could find a legal way to work from my shower, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I can't so that's why I work at the hospital in the labor and delivery wing as a nurse. I've always loved babies, so to be a part of someone's family at that special moment is heartbreakingly beautiful. Well let's say nothing gets better than that, except my shower.

Stripping off my scrubs and tossing them in the hamper that's right outside my bathroom, I see that Clyde was already sprawled out on the bed calling it a night. He was so sweet to wait up for me and then crash. Like a typical man would do. Turning back into the bathroom that was now all nice and steamy, filled with smoldering mist so that I couldn't even make out my own reflection in the mirror as I stepped into the shower.

I lingered under the shower heads as the beating streams of hot water relaxed my aching muscles, clearing my mind of everything. Thirty minutes later I was putting on my favorite Aggie shirt that hits right in the middle of my thighs, perfect nighty shirt length. Glancing at the bed one more time to see Clyde was still lying there on his stomach sprawled out on his side snoring away. I know, strange for a dog to snore but he does, I've told y'all before he's like a kid.

Padding into the living room and grabbed the stack of mail from the entry way as I made my way to my couch. Pulling out my cell from my purse as I started sorting through my mail, it's usually a bunch of junk, since I pay all my bills online anyways. There's a formal looking envelope in the stack, so I fished it out first and slid my finger under the sticky flap. But what's inside was oh so very shocking! It felt as if my breath was stuck in my throat while my stomach dropped out of my ass as I scanned the lines over and over.

"What the hell? Why would he send this to me?!" I yelled while jumping to my feet, causing my wet auburn hair to curtain around my face, along with little droplets of water hitting the fancy cardstock. Continuing to inspect the ivory wedding invitation with intricate calligraphy written on it, I read it aloud.

Mr. and Mrs. Michael Jones

Request the Honor of your presence

With the marriage of their daughter

Stacey Lynn Jones

to

Kyle Wayne Smith

Saturday, the Twenty Fourth of May

at two o'clock in the Afternoon at

St. Margarets Catholic Church

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Quickly grabbing my cell and dialed my girlfriend, Becky. She answered on the second ring. "Damn it Rach, there better be a damn good reason you're call me at…two o'clock in the fucking morning. Geez two o'clock really?" Becky hissed at me through the phone. She's a girl that loves her sleep.

"Becky, you will never believe what I just got in the damn mail?"

She breathed a tired breath into the phone. "It better be a damn letter letting you know your death is near, because I'll kill you if this isn't a good enough reason."

I just loved how snappy she gets when I wake her up, "Beck, Kyle sent me a wedding invite to his and Stacey's wedding in May."

Hearing what sounded like Becky jumping up in bed, flinging the covers off of her, "Are you fucking kidding? Why the hell would he send you of all people an invite?"