Second Rate Chances (2 page)

The sun and its early morning rays shone brightly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sam Travers’ high-rise. Dust particles floated around, dancing in the light as it beamed down on the bamboo floors. Sam bustled around his spacious, open living room looking for his watch. Much like that rabbit in
Alice in Wonderland
, he was late. Whether or not what he was late for could be considered a "very important date" was debatable, but it was still his job, and today, of all days, was not one to show up five minutes late for.

             
             
The Monday following the Thanksgiving holiday was one of the biggest number-crunching days for the retail industry. Today, as it were, marked how high the sales from the previous weekend fared. The official kick off to holiday spending.

             
             
As the head of the development division for Titan Gaming it wasn’t Sam’s job to question the ethics of the American people. However, as the youngest department head, his job was to oversee the gamers that tested all of the latest games. The testers were responsible for finding bugs in the programming before the games were released to the public.

             
             
Titan also ran a quarterly magazine on the latest and greatest in the gaming world. The November issue was the most anticipated – and crucial – for holiday spending. Titan needed to be the best in video gaming development. The manufacturers depended on them to spread the holiday cheer, as it were, when it came to their next big money maker. And since Titan itself had a hand in the honey pot, for every game that they reviewed and recommended to consumers, they were given a portion of the sales.

             
             
Sam frantically searched under couch cushions, being careful to place them just as they were, looking for his watch. It may have seemed trivial to some, but his watch was like a child's blanket. He felt naked without it – much like someone
else
he knew who felt equally naked leaving the house with no makeup on. Loud footsteps, made by a pair of four-inch stilettos, began to trot their way toward him. Sam checked to make sure the cushions on the couch were just right. The last thing he needed this morning was "a word" about the upkeep of a home. He stood, eying the way the sofa sat just so and spun around in a circle, his hands firmly planted on his hips. His eyes roamed over the open area for any clues as to where his timepiece could be hiding. The footfalls come to a stop but that wasn't what told him he was no longer alone. It was the unmistakable scent of Chanel No. 5.

             
             
“Sam, darling,” Chloe called out to him.

             
             
His thoughts stopped as if they had been willed to do so. He turned to face his fiancée, unable to even plaster on a fake smile. The couch was upturned, Chloe’s perfume invaded the entire room, and he couldn’t find his watch. It was turning out to be shitty Monday. He didn’t see the point in hiding that fact from her with a polite smile that really screamed,
I’d love nothing more than to waste time with idle chit chat when really, I’m late for work.
 

             
             
He tapped his pointer finger to his wrist where his watch would normally lie. “I'm late,” he said matter-of-factly. “You don't know where I left my watch do you?”

             
             
“You and that stupid watch,” she said with an eye roll. She didn’t move an inch to help him. Crossing her arms over her chest, Chloe huffed, “you won’t see me crying because it’s come up missing. I mean, really Sam, who can take a man seriously when he wears a lime green Swatch?”

             
             
Sam was resigned to the fact that Chloe would never fully understand him. He wore suits and ties to work because it was expected of him. If he could have gotten away with it, he would have worn his beat up Chuck Taylor’s as well. Apparently, scuffed toes were frowned upon at Titan Gaming. The watch, however, was his and his alone. He had had it since he first began working at Titan, a lowly gamer in the basement fresh out of college. It was a gift and one he had refused to part with after all of these years.

             
             
Looking at the modern art deco clock that hung above the minimalistic fireplace mantel in the corner, Sam realized he was going to be more than five minutes late now.

             
             
Her name came out of his mouth in a frustrated groan as she approached to adjust his tie. She looked up at him through long, fake eyelashes, batting them as she spoke.

             
             
“Yes?”

             
             
“My watch. Do you know where I left it?”

             
             
She huffed in annoyance. “Look under the towel in the hamper. I'm pretty sure I saw something lime green and offensive when I picked up your towel from the floor after your shower.”

             
             
He knew his messiness was a pet peeve of hers. This was his apartment, though. If he wanted to leave towels or clothes lying around, he should be able to. They would get picked up, eventually. Then again, had he thrown his towel in the hamper to begin with, maybe he would have seen his watch and this whole fiasco could have been avoided.

             
             
Just like Chloe had said, Sam’s watch was lying under the towel he had used that morning. He strapped it on his wrist, vowing to never take it off, when he heard Chloe clear her throat from behind him. She stood in the doorway, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

             
             
“Don't forget, I'm leaving for New York today to finalize a few last-minute details for the wedding. I’ll be back in time for dinner tonight at eight with Marvin. He has some ideas he wants to share with us regarding the photography.”

             
             
As their wedding drew nearer, Chloe started to spend more and more time in New York. With it only being an hour’s plane ride away, she could shop the designers she was accustomed to. Though Fair Haven had its own quaint stores, it wasn’t what Chloe desired.

Fair Haven, as a whole, was divided into two areas. Downtown, where Sam lived now – with its corporate buildings and young, hip hangouts – and the Village, where Sam was from, with its mom-and-pop stores and old fashioned delis. 

             
             
Four weeks was all they had before their New Years Eve nuptials. He had proposed eight months ago. And eight months ago, they had decided to say their vows on New Years Eve, in front of their family and friends, with a huge party that would last well into the early morning hours. At midnight they were to depart for their honeymoon – an undisclosed location and one of the few surprises Sam was granted in the whole production.

             
             
To speed the morning along, Sam simply smiled and nodded. “New York, dinner with Marvin. Got it.”

             
             
“Love you, babe,” Chloe called out, blowing air kisses to his retreating form.

             
             
Sam went into full blown panic mode, cursing that he lived on the top floor where it was damn near impossible to take the stairs but praying that no one else was running as late as him so that he didn't have to stop at every other floor on the way down. When the elevator finally dinged that he had made it to the lobby, he sprinted out of the door.

             
             
Cosmo, the doorman, stood by his perch, watching Sam move with grace out from under the eave that led to the street where morning commuter’s cars waited. Sam's BMW M3 was the only vehicle parked out front this morning.

             
             
“Cosmo!” Sam said cheerfully. “My man. How goes it this morning?”

             
             
“Oh, no different than yesterday. Your car is ready, sir. Should be nice and warm on this chilly morning. Make sure you're careful on the roads. Reports of black ice everywhere.”

Sam smiled as Cosmo walked around the car to open the
d
oor for him. As his hand reached for the handle, Sam turned on his heel, preparing to show off his fancy footwork on the slick pavement. Instead, his footing caught on the edge of the curb. Sam reached for Cosmo’s outstretched hand, but he wasn't fast enough. His foot caught the curb at an awkward angle, causing him to lose his balance.

             
             
Sam's whole body twisted like a contortionist's. His waist dipped back and his feet flew out from underneath him before Cosmo could help him from his fall. As Sam's head came closer to the curb of the sidewalk, he expected his life to start flashing before his eyes. Instead he had one final, fleeting thought as his head made contact with the concrete and his vision turned the same murky color of the shiny car he was now staring at through hooded eyes.

             
             
It ended too soon. And funny enough, Sam wasn’t thinking about his life.

CHAPTER 2

Running late for work was a daily occurrence for Lil Harper. Then again, when you technically had no boss to report

to, running late was not an issue – unless of course she wanted to face the wrath of her best friend and assistant. But this morning she was bringing coffee. Ellie couldn't be mad when the fresh roasted smell of coffee beans from
Latte da
clouded her senses.

             
             
Lil turned up the radio. On their own accord, her shoulders moved up and down to the beat of the tune. Without a care in the world – the skies were blue, and her coffee nice and toasty on this chilly morning – Lil started to sing,
Fire,
a song
The Pointer Sisters made famous and even Elmer Fudd made sound good.

             
             
She drew out the chorus, using her best soulful voice. It wasn't on key by a long shot, but it felt good to belt out the words so early in the morning. Nine fifteen being early.

             
             
Lil drove down Main Street. There was nothing like driving down the street that connected all of Fair Haven together. The car, her old Chevy Tahoe she had bought when she landed her first big paying job as a photographer right out of college, cruised toward The Village.

Boutiques, antique shops, mom and pop stands, anything and everything that could keep a small town a float, thrived here. It was the place to be and be seen when her grandparents were young and hip. Lil reserved a soft spot for The Village; there was something homey about driving down the cobblestone streets. Some days, when she was left to her own thoughts, she'd imagine what it must have been like for her grandparents to roam these streets as teenagers, courting one another.  Maybe they’d hold hands as they walked toward the Cineplex and then stop by the Tasty Freeze for ice cream. Her Grandpa might even try to sneak in a few stolen kisses after the movie. She could imagine the evening ending with their arms wrapped around one another as they stopped to admire the big open sky under a blanket down by the river.

Lil sighed as she pulled her car in front of the little door that housed her very own place on Main Street. Lily Rose Photography was scripted in elegant letters on the black awning above her bold, red door. She had to make a statement here, where every other door was either glass or plain. Red was the boldest move she could make. Besides, it had worked for Elizabeth Arden.

             
             
The door swung open as Lil nudged it with her knee, her hands full with two Grande lattes. Ellie didn't even look up from her computer screen to see who had interrupted her morning Facebook stalking of what had happened to her "friends" while she had been sleeping. For one, no one was expected until later that afternoon, and two, she could smell the intoxicating aroma of a salted caramel mocha from down the street.

             
             
“You're forgiven,” Ellie said, closing out of screen she was currently browsing.

             
             
“Well,” Ellie said in a way that Lil immediately knew she had something good to say.