partygirl43
Refugee
FICTION!!!!!! FICTION!!!!!! 100% FICTION!!!!!!!
Enjoy this chapter, I'll post more in about a week or so...I'm off on Vacation in NYC!!!!!
Chapter 12
I opened one eye pensively; a gauzy light filtered in through the heavy blackout drapes of the bedroom. I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read 10:30. I bolted up. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep for. It felt like forever.
I slid out of bed and peaked out the window. It was a busy Dublin morning, the streets humming with life. The bed was rumpled and empty, and the suite quite. I grabbed a robe from the amour and went to the living room. I spotted a note on the coffee table, written in the now familiar hand. ‘Thought I’d let you sleep in. I’ll be back soon--- B.’
I sighed and rummaged for the room service menu. I was starving; it had seemed like so long since I last ate. Was it on the plane? In Africa? I called down to the front desk and ordered a pot of coffee, oatmeal and a newspaper.
The food arrived promptly and I took it into the bedroom with me. I wolfed down the oatmeal, and the coffee was extra good. There was no coffee in Africa; good coffee at least. I was reading the paper when I heard the door opening.
“Good Morning!” Bono said brightly.
“Hi.” I said putting the paper down. He sat on the edge of the bed facing me.
“Thanks for letting me sleep in.” I said.
“Well you looked so peaceful; I didn’t want to bother you.”
I smiled, “So, why are we holed up at the Four Seasons?”
He looked sheepish, “aggh…the million dollar question.” He scratched his chin.
“You really like the room service? Frequent flyer miles?’ I joked.
“Yeah, something like that.” He smiled and patted my leg, “You should get ready, we have plans.”
“Plans?” I asked.
He grinned brightly and raised his brows. “We’re going to lunch.” He replied, “and then we’re going to Chicago.”
“Chicago?” I questioned. “Um, besides me, what else is there to do in Chicago?”
“Ha!” He laughed, looking over his shades at me, “Ansleigh, you’re so funny. Really!” He fumbled with his pocket and pulled out his Palm. He clicked a few screens, pulling up his schedule. He held it out in front of me.
“See my schedule is clear.” He seemed proud.
I leaned forward to take a closer look at it. The schedule wasn’t really clear, there were dates marked off and it read ‘Taping Oprah’. It struck me funny that he considered his schedule clear.
“Um, it says you’re going to be on Oprah.” I said.
He shook his head in the affirmative, “It’s going to be brilliant,” he said, brogue becoming heavier. “She’s taping her favorite things show for the holidays, so I’m going to put on my traveling salesman hat and plug some things for red.”
I nodded, “I see.”
“We can spend the holiday in the city, hang out. Maybe you can go on Oprah with me.” His eyes danced behind his glasses.
I shook my head, “No thanks. I don’t think I want to be on Oprah. Anyway, I know her.” I said.
“You do?” he asked.
“I used to intern for the show when I was in college.” I explained “I was working the last time you were on. You walked past me really fast.” I said.
“Really?!?” Bono said, “Huh.” He ran his hand over his head, like he was trying to remember.
“Well,” he said standing up “I’ll let you get ready, we’ll have lunch and the leave for Chi-town.” I watched him leave the room. I pulled my knees close to me. “Jesus.” I mumbled to myself. “I’m coming home to Chicago with Hurricane Bono.”
I showered quickly and rummaged through my duffle bags for the least dirty outfit I had. I found a pair of skinny jeans, flats and a fitted black tee. Not really what I had pictured wearing my big debut with Bono, but it would have to do.
I went to the living room and found him hunched over his laptop. He looked up, “Hey Pretty.” He said “ready?”
I raised my eyebrows, “As I’ll ever be.” I said.
He turned off his laptop and stood up “Tom will bring your bags later.”
I nodded; knew as soon as Bono opened the door, my life would be changed forever. He smiled, opening the door and we walked to the elevator. I hoped I did not look nervous.
“I hope you’re not cold.” Bono said, noticing that I didn’t have a jacket. “You can wear mine.” He slipped off his brown leather jacket and put it around my shoulders. “Thanks.” I smiled, resisting the urge to sniff the collar. Instead I nuzzled his neck. The door opened to the ornate lobby and we walked through briskly. I kept my eyes on the door, not really noticing if anyone was looking at us.
His gleaming Maseratti Quattroporte was waiting for us. I could hear its throaty V-12 growl. The doorman smiled and nodded at both of us. Bono ran over to open my door. The doorman held his open and said simply, “Have a good day Bono.”
I slid into the comfy seat, “Nice ride.” I complemented. “My uncle wants one of these.” I continued. “Ever take it out and let her rip?” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
“You know about cars?” He said as he shifted gears.
I smiled, “I know enough.”
“Amazing.” He replied, and then laughed “I’ve never really let it rip. I’m sure the Guarda would have my arse.”
I looked at him, “Oh come on, they’d let you go. Don’t you get a free pass or something?” I said.
He smirked, “Maybe.”
We drove for about ten minutes. Bono drove distractedly, pointing out landmarks, relaying personal stories about them. I noticed we were in Temple Bar. “Oh I remember that pub,” I said.
“You’ve been to Dublin?” he asked.
“A few times.” I said.
“Where else have you been?” he said.
“Well, probably not as many places as you’ve been.” I answered.
“I’ve never been to Thailand.” He said looking at me. I smiled at him, “When should we go?’
He grinned to himself, “You never know, Ansleigh.” He pulled up to a restaurant called Eden. He parked the car like a man who would not get towed. Before he opened the door he turned to me, “OK there’s usually a Pap who hangs out across the street. His name is Marco, he’s from Israel. Nice bloke.” I blinked at him, amazed he remembered such detail about a person who was basically paid to stalk him.
“See,” He continued “They don’t usually give a fuck about me here in Dublin, that’s why there’s just one guy. So I let him get his shots, be nice and he’ll leave me alone.”
I nodded. Bono unbuckled his seat belt. I looked out the window and saw Marco, with his dark moppy hair leaning non chalently against the building. There was a long lens on his SLR. I saw Bono wave to him, and Marco lifted his camera. Marco didn’t look too excited until Bono went to my door, than his actions became quicker. He was caught off guard. I looked at Bono and smiled, then glanced up to see Marco peering through his lens. It was slightly unnerving, as I envisioned Marco dashing the shots off to his eager editors, who’d dispatch them to all of the media outlets. Then I would be dissected by TMZ and all of the other bloggers. I could only hope they’d give me a decent nickname.
Bono put his hand on the small of my back as we entered the restaurant. “That wasn’t so bad? Was it?” he said.
“Nope.” I smiled, reminding myself to stay cool. My heart was in my throat.
The restaurant was light and airy with modern white tables and chairs. The sunlight streamed in, glinting off the blonde wood floors. Green plants were everywhere. The hostess smiled at us, “How are you today Bono?” she asked and not really waiting for a reply continued “Your table is ready for you.” I noticed that as we walked through, the conversation quieted, but did not stop. Necks craned momentarily but returned to their lunches. Bono pulled out my seat and the hostess handed me a menu.
“Thanks.” He smiled as the waiter poured our water.
I took a sip of water, Bono crossed his arms on the table, his fingers playing with this big silver watch, and he looked intently at me.
“What?’ I smiled.
He grinned, “Nothing.” His eyes looked happy behind his blue Armani’s.
“So.” I said “Please tell me we’re not staying at the Four Seasons Chicago.”
He rubbed his goatee thoughtfully, “You don’t like the room service?”
“Something like that. “ I smiled and continued “I have an idea.” I said excitedly.
He leaned forward, “What is it?”
“My Uncle has a penthouse in the city you can use.” I said.
He parsed his lips, “I can use?” he questioned. “Where are you going to be?”
I blushed, “Well, I mean, I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
He sipped his water, “Well, I appreciate it, but I want you there with me. I’ve had enough alone time, I don’t do well with it.”
I smiled and nodded, “OK, I’ll put in a call. It’ll be ready for us when we get there.”
The waiter appeared at the table and I place my order. He looked at Bono and said “The usual?” Bono nodded. “They know me.” He said winking at me. Our food arrived quickly, and he ate in big bites all the while talking in wildly exciting tangents.
“I figure we’ve got a week or so before the figure out who you are and where exactly I’ve gone off to.” He said.
I cut my lettuce, “It’s kind of exciting.” I said, and then he flashed me a look that suggested otherwise.
“We’ll have a few days without Tom’s services.” He said putting down his fork.
“So, I’m your bodyguard?” I smirked.
“Yep.” He said back.
“No problem, I can do that.” I winked.
Enjoy this chapter, I'll post more in about a week or so...I'm off on Vacation in NYC!!!!!
Chapter 12
I opened one eye pensively; a gauzy light filtered in through the heavy blackout drapes of the bedroom. I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read 10:30. I bolted up. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep for. It felt like forever.
I slid out of bed and peaked out the window. It was a busy Dublin morning, the streets humming with life. The bed was rumpled and empty, and the suite quite. I grabbed a robe from the amour and went to the living room. I spotted a note on the coffee table, written in the now familiar hand. ‘Thought I’d let you sleep in. I’ll be back soon--- B.’
I sighed and rummaged for the room service menu. I was starving; it had seemed like so long since I last ate. Was it on the plane? In Africa? I called down to the front desk and ordered a pot of coffee, oatmeal and a newspaper.
The food arrived promptly and I took it into the bedroom with me. I wolfed down the oatmeal, and the coffee was extra good. There was no coffee in Africa; good coffee at least. I was reading the paper when I heard the door opening.
“Good Morning!” Bono said brightly.
“Hi.” I said putting the paper down. He sat on the edge of the bed facing me.
“Thanks for letting me sleep in.” I said.
“Well you looked so peaceful; I didn’t want to bother you.”
I smiled, “So, why are we holed up at the Four Seasons?”
He looked sheepish, “aggh…the million dollar question.” He scratched his chin.
“You really like the room service? Frequent flyer miles?’ I joked.
“Yeah, something like that.” He smiled and patted my leg, “You should get ready, we have plans.”
“Plans?” I asked.
He grinned brightly and raised his brows. “We’re going to lunch.” He replied, “and then we’re going to Chicago.”
“Chicago?” I questioned. “Um, besides me, what else is there to do in Chicago?”
“Ha!” He laughed, looking over his shades at me, “Ansleigh, you’re so funny. Really!” He fumbled with his pocket and pulled out his Palm. He clicked a few screens, pulling up his schedule. He held it out in front of me.
“See my schedule is clear.” He seemed proud.
I leaned forward to take a closer look at it. The schedule wasn’t really clear, there were dates marked off and it read ‘Taping Oprah’. It struck me funny that he considered his schedule clear.
“Um, it says you’re going to be on Oprah.” I said.
He shook his head in the affirmative, “It’s going to be brilliant,” he said, brogue becoming heavier. “She’s taping her favorite things show for the holidays, so I’m going to put on my traveling salesman hat and plug some things for red.”
I nodded, “I see.”
“We can spend the holiday in the city, hang out. Maybe you can go on Oprah with me.” His eyes danced behind his glasses.
I shook my head, “No thanks. I don’t think I want to be on Oprah. Anyway, I know her.” I said.
“You do?” he asked.
“I used to intern for the show when I was in college.” I explained “I was working the last time you were on. You walked past me really fast.” I said.
“Really?!?” Bono said, “Huh.” He ran his hand over his head, like he was trying to remember.
“Well,” he said standing up “I’ll let you get ready, we’ll have lunch and the leave for Chi-town.” I watched him leave the room. I pulled my knees close to me. “Jesus.” I mumbled to myself. “I’m coming home to Chicago with Hurricane Bono.”
I showered quickly and rummaged through my duffle bags for the least dirty outfit I had. I found a pair of skinny jeans, flats and a fitted black tee. Not really what I had pictured wearing my big debut with Bono, but it would have to do.
I went to the living room and found him hunched over his laptop. He looked up, “Hey Pretty.” He said “ready?”
I raised my eyebrows, “As I’ll ever be.” I said.
He turned off his laptop and stood up “Tom will bring your bags later.”
I nodded; knew as soon as Bono opened the door, my life would be changed forever. He smiled, opening the door and we walked to the elevator. I hoped I did not look nervous.
“I hope you’re not cold.” Bono said, noticing that I didn’t have a jacket. “You can wear mine.” He slipped off his brown leather jacket and put it around my shoulders. “Thanks.” I smiled, resisting the urge to sniff the collar. Instead I nuzzled his neck. The door opened to the ornate lobby and we walked through briskly. I kept my eyes on the door, not really noticing if anyone was looking at us.
His gleaming Maseratti Quattroporte was waiting for us. I could hear its throaty V-12 growl. The doorman smiled and nodded at both of us. Bono ran over to open my door. The doorman held his open and said simply, “Have a good day Bono.”
I slid into the comfy seat, “Nice ride.” I complemented. “My uncle wants one of these.” I continued. “Ever take it out and let her rip?” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
“You know about cars?” He said as he shifted gears.
I smiled, “I know enough.”
“Amazing.” He replied, and then laughed “I’ve never really let it rip. I’m sure the Guarda would have my arse.”
I looked at him, “Oh come on, they’d let you go. Don’t you get a free pass or something?” I said.
He smirked, “Maybe.”
We drove for about ten minutes. Bono drove distractedly, pointing out landmarks, relaying personal stories about them. I noticed we were in Temple Bar. “Oh I remember that pub,” I said.
“You’ve been to Dublin?” he asked.
“A few times.” I said.
“Where else have you been?” he said.
“Well, probably not as many places as you’ve been.” I answered.
“I’ve never been to Thailand.” He said looking at me. I smiled at him, “When should we go?’
He grinned to himself, “You never know, Ansleigh.” He pulled up to a restaurant called Eden. He parked the car like a man who would not get towed. Before he opened the door he turned to me, “OK there’s usually a Pap who hangs out across the street. His name is Marco, he’s from Israel. Nice bloke.” I blinked at him, amazed he remembered such detail about a person who was basically paid to stalk him.
“See,” He continued “They don’t usually give a fuck about me here in Dublin, that’s why there’s just one guy. So I let him get his shots, be nice and he’ll leave me alone.”
I nodded. Bono unbuckled his seat belt. I looked out the window and saw Marco, with his dark moppy hair leaning non chalently against the building. There was a long lens on his SLR. I saw Bono wave to him, and Marco lifted his camera. Marco didn’t look too excited until Bono went to my door, than his actions became quicker. He was caught off guard. I looked at Bono and smiled, then glanced up to see Marco peering through his lens. It was slightly unnerving, as I envisioned Marco dashing the shots off to his eager editors, who’d dispatch them to all of the media outlets. Then I would be dissected by TMZ and all of the other bloggers. I could only hope they’d give me a decent nickname.
Bono put his hand on the small of my back as we entered the restaurant. “That wasn’t so bad? Was it?” he said.
“Nope.” I smiled, reminding myself to stay cool. My heart was in my throat.
The restaurant was light and airy with modern white tables and chairs. The sunlight streamed in, glinting off the blonde wood floors. Green plants were everywhere. The hostess smiled at us, “How are you today Bono?” she asked and not really waiting for a reply continued “Your table is ready for you.” I noticed that as we walked through, the conversation quieted, but did not stop. Necks craned momentarily but returned to their lunches. Bono pulled out my seat and the hostess handed me a menu.
“Thanks.” He smiled as the waiter poured our water.
I took a sip of water, Bono crossed his arms on the table, his fingers playing with this big silver watch, and he looked intently at me.
“What?’ I smiled.
He grinned, “Nothing.” His eyes looked happy behind his blue Armani’s.
“So.” I said “Please tell me we’re not staying at the Four Seasons Chicago.”
He rubbed his goatee thoughtfully, “You don’t like the room service?”
“Something like that. “ I smiled and continued “I have an idea.” I said excitedly.
He leaned forward, “What is it?”
“My Uncle has a penthouse in the city you can use.” I said.
He parsed his lips, “I can use?” he questioned. “Where are you going to be?”
I blushed, “Well, I mean, I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
He sipped his water, “Well, I appreciate it, but I want you there with me. I’ve had enough alone time, I don’t do well with it.”
I smiled and nodded, “OK, I’ll put in a call. It’ll be ready for us when we get there.”
The waiter appeared at the table and I place my order. He looked at Bono and said “The usual?” Bono nodded. “They know me.” He said winking at me. Our food arrived quickly, and he ate in big bites all the while talking in wildly exciting tangents.
“I figure we’ve got a week or so before the figure out who you are and where exactly I’ve gone off to.” He said.
I cut my lettuce, “It’s kind of exciting.” I said, and then he flashed me a look that suggested otherwise.
“We’ll have a few days without Tom’s services.” He said putting down his fork.
“So, I’m your bodyguard?” I smirked.
“Yep.” He said back.
“No problem, I can do that.” I winked.
