Beautiful Illusions Read Online Free Page A

places about 20 times, as if they would somehow magically appear in these places, when they clearly were not there before.
    “Just a second!” I called . Shit, where are these goddamned things? I opened up the refrigerator, and there were my keys. Go figure. Which gave me an idea – I climbed up on the counter to look on top of the fridge, and my cell phone was there. Bizarre. I got the idea to look on top of the fridge because it occurred to me that I might have put the cell phone up there, because years ago I put a pair of glasses on top of the fridge. Of course, I was drunk at the time. But, last night, I was drunker than I had ever been. Not literally, just high from the evening.
    I opened the door, breathless. “Gos h, I am so sorry. I overslept. Um, I can’t go.”
    He looked perplexed. “How come?”
    “I wasn’t thinking last night. I don’t have a pair of biking shorts.”
    “Ah, well, you aren’t getting out of this so easily, my friend.” He was smiling impishly.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I picked up a pair of biking shorts for you.”
    “This morning? Already?”
    “Yeah. Dick’s is open early.”
    I wasn’t aware of this. Somehow, I was suspicious that he got the shorts yesterday afternoon. Presumptuous. Or, god forbid, he bought them for somebody else. Whatever.
    “Huh. What's the real story?”
    “You caught me. Actually, I have a friend who knows the owner of Dick’s. I called in a favor, and asked him if he would let me shop early this morning, before the store opened.”
    I was impressed .
    “Just a sec, let me bring them up and make sure that they fit.” And he was gone .
    In about a minute, he was back, shorts in one hand, his other hand behind his back .
    “Here, try these on.”
    “ Ok, but you can’t come in.” He can’t possibly be ready for cyclone alley, as my mother would say.
    He looked perplexed. I suddenly realized that I was supposed to notice his hand behind hi s back and ask him about this. “Whatcha got there behind your back?”
    His impish smile was back. “Well, this is a cliché, but I am very much a romantic.” And he then produced a dozen red roses from behind his back.
    I was shaking again. Just when I was starting to regain my composure around this guy, and he produces roses. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I received flowers of any kind from anyb ody. “Oh, these are beautiful. Let me find a vase to put them in. Wait there, though.” Why, why, why didn’t I clean up the apartment before he got here? What is wrong with me? He probably thinks I am the world’s rudest person.
    I dashe d into the apartment. No vase. I hauled out an empty wine bottle from the trash can, smashed the top of the bottle, filled it with water, and put the roses in that. That will have to do for now. Must remember to buy a vase. Then I had to sweep the galley kitchen floor, because I was liable to step on glass with my bare feet, and Madison might get glass in her delicate paws. “Sweet kitty,” I said, picking her up, getting momentarily distracted. She purred loudly in my ear.
    Next order of busin ess was putting on the shorts. They fit perfectly. I threw on a t-shirt, then realized that Ryan’s bike probably had clip pedals. Luckily, I had an old pair of clip shoes and threw them on. However, I couldn’t find my helmet.
    On my way out the door, I grabbed a Slim Fast shak e, shook it up, and downed it. That’s all you are going to have until lunch time.
    I opened the door. Ryan was chatting with my across the hall neighbor. Funny, she never even said hello to me. Ever. She was giggling animatedly, flipping her hair, batting her eyelashes. Give me a fucking break. I looked at her, and she looked back. Daggers from her. Bitch.
    Ryan immediate ly turned his attention to me. “Well, Sheila, it was good to meet you.”
    “You too,” she sai d, giggling and hair flipping. Eyelash batting.
    Turning to me, Ryan asked “How did the shorts work?” I then noticed