May 18, 2015
Three Months Away
Jordan: Lemon, I need a discreet ride from the airport soon.
Jordan: My other ride plans fell through and, well, I need to be back to my place––
Jordan: Are you available in, say, 45 minutes?
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Three Months Away
Jordan: Lemon, I need a discreet ride from the airport soon.
Jordan: My other ride plans fell through and, well, I need to be back to my place––
Jordan: Are you available in, say, 45 minutes?
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Jordan had submerged herself into her work. Nick was gone, Daisy left her well enough alone, and she and Lemony hadn't spoken in weeks. The office was only about two blocks away, but Jordan found solace in working from home. It was quiet, simple, and no one came to her door. Appointments were made, some had at the glass table in her dining room, others made in the conference room at the office. Work was thriving and the magazine was selling. Not even Katniss had heard a word, and that was someone with whom Jordan had made a connection, someone she actually enjoyed being with.
The few parties she had been two over the past few weeks were work related and wouldn't have had anyone from around here in attendance. There were fewer questions when less important people stayed away anyway. Tonight there was one of those parties, in her large apartment, actually. It was a marketing technique for her location and there was one person she should have invited, but she wasn't quite sure. To have the man who actually had the biggest name in town, that would be something extraordinary for those that were looking to come work for her. The biggest in the business were coming. Designers, photographers, writers. This was much bigger than she had first intended. The problem with inviting people with such drive would be that she hadn't exactly spoken with them.Â
She still hadn't made a decision and knew she needed to choose whether to send an invitation to him today. The party was in ten hours. Even if she did invite him, he probably wouldn't even come. Walking out of her apartment in her tan, long sleeved dress and black heels, Jordan found her way walking to the office, but being who she is, she stopped at the window of a shop to look in at something that had caught her eye. It was a  small thrift shop and inside the window was something small, a necklace, but it seemed to draw her eyes in. Without going into the store, she poked closer at the piece in the window, her hands filled with a file and her clutch bag. This could be good for a shoot, or even for her own collection.
No Hard Feelings
Jordan had just finished unpacking her office and she sat down with proofs from last week's shoot looking around and there, the screen black, sat her phone. Picking it up, she unlocked it and scrolled through her contacts. Sighing, she pressed Lemony Snicket and decided to send a message.
To: Lemony Snicket From: Jordan Baker
SMS:Â You'll find your key on the table by the stand by the front door. I've paid to have the West Wing cleaned, though much wasn't really needed.Â
-J
She sent the message and stood, putting the phone in the back pocket of her jeans. Yes, Jordan Baker was wearing jeans. Putting the soundtrack to Breakfast as Tiffany's on, Jordan went to her room and emptied a basket of clothes on her bed to fold.
I came here looking for something new, something to do. After you've been around as long as I have there isn't much you want to do–or anyone that makes the doing worth it.Â
Well, I was surprised. The night at the hotel was a great awakening to the potential that the town could have offered. It's been decent here, I don't hate it, but there's so much more happening with me, more than I can explain. I married a man for his company and here I am, having feelings for a man. Not romantic feelings–I am above that. I feel for this man as a friend, as a human being. He looks at me like he understands my past and that is completely terrifying. Knowing how old I am is one thing, but there is much about my past that I would never tell anyone, ever.Â
All of this boils down to one thing...Lemony Snicket is my friend and he makes me want to prove myself wrong: Maybe I am worth more than this eternity in my own mind.Â
Planets–Mars
The night was long, but Jordan let the guests pretend she was having a good time. It was her thing, selling herself. The publicity for her work was going well–her photographs were even hung and sold. There was a lot happening, but all Jordan wanted was to get away from the noise.
When the car pulled up to the house it was well past one, but she wasn't tired, just mentally exhausted. With her mind so busy she hadn't had time to think about herself, but the night brought that back to her. Pushing the front door open, Jordan just kicked off her shoes and left her long, silver dress on. It clung to her sides, hanging just enough from the collar to give her the ageless flapper look. Walking to the foyer she didn't think–she had to stop thinking–she sat on the piano bench, the lid of the instrument closed, and played, softly, Gustov Holst's Mars. It was perfect for her mood lately, but slowed her mind just enough to keep her thoughts at bay...or at least give something to scream at them with.
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The Morning After
Jordan rolled over in her bed, the sheets wrapping annoyingly around her legs when she felt the warmth of another body. Next to her. Her body stopped and she stayed on her back with her eyes closed.
Your muse catches mine in the shower. What is your muse's reaction? ~LS
Tessa was seated alone at the back of a packed bus. The sounds of the bus and the noisy passengers echoed through the bus as it came to a stop. She watched as a man got on and started walking towards the back to find the only available seat left was next to herself. She sighs to herself softly as the man got closer and she forces a small smile as he sits down next to her.