A Broken Watch, some Peppermints, and a Hug That Goes Too Far by R. Brownell (love story books to read txt) 📕

9:15am

I swerved out of the way just in time. I was running late, and the island of Manhattan was buzzing with the morning commuters. The cab driver shouted some profanity out the window as I wrapped my free hand around a street post to steady myself. No one questioned if I was all right, why would they anyway, this was New York for Christ sakes.

I headed up Seventh Avenue towards Times Square. My train from the island had just pulled in about ten minutes ago, after massive delays on the Long Island Railroad in Jamaica Queens.

In my right hand, I held coffee and a donut from Penn Station. My black prada messenger bag banged against the side of my leg as I picked up my pace and grew closer to the heart of New York City. The crowd grew from ridiculous to horrendous in a matter of seconds. The streets not only filled with commuters, but tourists stopping every few seconds to take photos.

I finally reached forty forth and Broadway, and past right underneath the MTV studios. I knew spring would be over soon because of the movie awards signs that hung in the windows of the MTV studios. My office was actually above the studio.

I work for a new entertainment magazine called, Lights on Broadway. In only a few days, we would be announcing it all to the world.

The head of the magazine Charles Hansen created the magazine in early 2010, and it finally was becoming a realization now as the summer of 2012 approached.
I joined the operation last February and was helping run the concert department. With a listing of concerts in the area, a press pass, photographers, and writers, we were able to capture moments from the fans eyes.

Our angle was for the fans, by the fans. We would hire college students to intern for us, and they would bring a crew with them and write a review from their prospective. The student always had a mentor with them guiding them through the process, and helping them improve their skills.
I raced through the doors up the steps towards the elevator. A bunch of employee’s from various MTV, and Nickelodeon shows waited patiently with me. The light on the panel lit up indicating the elevator was on its way. It only took a few seconds to make it down to us.

The door opened and I was forced into the elevator, and directly to the back. There were so many people in the elevator no one noticed me squished in the back, with hot coffee running down my chest.

I was a small girl, only around five foot. Although I wasn’t the skinniest girl on the block I could see how people could forget I existed. There had been many days where I had to show my badge followed by two forms of ID because they suspected me of being a fan here to stalk the rich and famous. However, that was far from the truth.

The door opened on my floor and I stepped out into the well-lit hallway. In front of me was a glass wall with a locked door. John the security guard waved me in as I heard the buzzer go off.

“Miss Gertrude, your top,” he reminded me.

I could feel the warm liquid in my hands again, and looked down at my white blouse, a gigantic coffee stain rested against my chest. I sighed; it was a case of the Monday’s was for sure.

John handed me a napkin from his desk, which was topped with papers and clipboards, his coffee, and muffin, along with several napkins scattered. He knew to be prepared when I was around.

“Get some tan this weekend John?” I questioned noticing his darkened skin.

“Yes Ma’am the Mrs. And I went to Jones Beach this weekend, I tanned, and the Mrs. Well she just looks like a giant lobster,” he laughed.

I found John to be very attractive for an older man. He had dark cropped hair, sweet green eyes, and a charm that had half the women on the floor after him. However, he was definitely was not my type. I laughed in response.

“Sounds like the perfect weekend, you can just tell summer is right around the corner,” I noted. He nodded.

“Definitely is. Now go take care of that stain.”

“Yes, thank you John. Have a good day.” I waved to him and headed for my office.

Yes, I had my very own office; it of course had an amazing view of the city too. Our office was a big square, on the outer edges was the main offices, and in the center was cubicle’s for interns and other staff members.
10:00am

I sat my messenger bag on the desk and noticed a few drops of coffee on that as well. I scrubbed it the best I could before wandering over to my closet where I kept an extra shirt or two. I had to always be prepared for things that would happen, like last week while it was raining a car drove through a puddle and splashed my clothes. I came to work drenched.

I quickly changed into the black blouse I had, and checked myself in the mirror. My boring straight brown hair hung just above my chest. My hazel eyes looked tired and frustrated. I took in a deep breath and tugged on my gray pencil skirt, and shut the door.

The second I sat down at my desk, there was a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I called.

I had said that John had been far from my type, which was true. My type was guys like him. The handsome thirty year old who was head of photography on my team. Mason Hansen, Charles Hansen’s son. Yeah, only in my wildest dreams would I be able to get my hands on him. Besides being head of photography his father also considered him the Vice President. He was also the guy who had interviewed and hired me.

“Good morning Gerri,” he smiled as he closed the door quietly behind him. Only few people called me by my nickname, him being one of them.

He was the type of guy where when he smiled it was like the whole world stopped for a minute to watch him. He had black hair that he spiked with gel, and soft chocolate brown eyes. He was a lot taller than me, around five was seven, and was muscular.
“Mason, everything all set for our meeting today with our crew?” I questioned him.

He made himself at home and sat across from me on the other side of my wooden desk. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

“Yes, they all RSVP’d yesterday afternoon. Marie is setting up the conference room with the photo’s and article ideas that Theresa e-mailed on the Screaming Monkey’s concert,” he replied.

“Excellent, I am running a little behind this morning,” I picked up my arm and twisted my wrist so that I could see my favorite pink wristwatch to check the time.

I paused for a moment, the time read nine o’clock. I tapped the glass to see if maybe there was a glitch. I sighed.

“Something wrong Gerri?” he questioned.

I was still tapping my watch. I looked up at him, and he was now sitting up in his seat. He looked from the watch to me and back again.

“I think my stupid watch is broken again. My only two designer products and today is the day they get ruined.” I sighed.

“The elevator incident?” he questioned knowingly.
I looked up in his direction again after giving up with the watch. I felt my brows rise, how did he know already.

“Word sure travels fast around here,” I sighed.
He gave me a reassuring smile.

“I can fix that you know,” he said pointing to the watch.

“This old thing,” I laughed.

“I don’t think it’s just an old thing, I happen to remember you telling me that it was a present from your mother just before she-,”

I stared at him, my eyes bugging out of my head.
“How do you remember-,” I started.

“I have one of those memories, but Really, I can fix it. Trust me.”

He held out his hand to reach for the watch. I gave him one last glance, and felt my face flush red. I began to unbuckle the watch slowly; I noticed my hands shaking just the slightest bit as I pulled it off. Our hands touched as I gave him the watch, causing my face to burn even hotter.

“Give me till the end of the day, I’ll have it fixed,” he curled his hand into a fist over the watch.

“Thank you,” I stammered out.

10:30AM

I kept rubbing my left hand over my right wrist looking for the watch. I had it on my wrist for the past seven years. I was nineteen when she passed away. It was during open-heart surgery, the doctors tried their hardest, but she just didn’t have the strength to pull through after the heart attack. Dad totally dropped off the face of the earth since then, so that is why I moved to Long Island, got a degree in journalism, and landed a job in New York City.

The door to the conference room had glass windows surrounding it so anyone could see inside. I walked past and noticed Mason and a few others talking and getting ready for the meeting.

“Hello Gertrude,” I turned to find Theresa our
college intern walking up behind me.

“Theresa, good morning, how was the concert last night?” I questioned.

“Thanks to you hiring me for this internship, it was amazing. I can’t thank you enough for making my dream come true. I got into the venue early, and got to watch them do sound check. Afterwards they all came out to meet me and I asked them a couple of questions regarding the show and the tour. Oh-my-god, Gertrude it was amazing,” she smiled.

I had hired Theresa for a college internship back in December. She was a bright young college student from Hofstra University on Long Island. She always dressed professionally, and acted it as well. She wore black rimmed rectangular glasses that made her look like one of those “sexy librarian” types. Most of all, she reminded me of myself when I was her age. She had a dream like me, to write and I wanted to give her the opportunity.

“I am thrilled that you had a good time. Hope you didn’t stay up too late writing that article.”

“Oh no, the words just kind of flowed out,” her smile flowed from ear to ear.