Clockwork Romance Read Free

regret, no shame, but rather a feeling that everything was going to be okay. I can’t say I’m used to that. Now I can find that girl, whoever she may be, somewhere out there and waiting for me to find her… or her to find me, whichever comes first.
    Sleeping is now a lot easier, for tonight that is. Who would have guessed that a one night stand could inspire someone so much? I suppose it depends on the situation, with tonight being a prime example. I turn my head to look at the clock again. 2:30 on the dot. I close my eyes, letting the silence soothe me to sleep.
     
     
     
     

 
    Chapter 2
     
    Morning. Daylight at least. I open my eyes to a white ceiling. This morning I feel good, unlike most other mornings, or days, or night s. My walls don’t judge me and I don’t judge myself. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. My mind doesn’t race. I guess I sort of miss Bibi, but I also guess that there has to be a point to what happened last night. Otherwise, I wouldn’t feel so… okay.
    I realize that I’m still naked. I can see my clothes scattered on the floor where they were one joined by Bibi’s. I look over at the clock. It says 10:56 a .m. Usually, I don’t wake up that late, but today I have a reason. Not because I was up so late, but because I was actually able to have a good night’s sleep. A luxury, remember? So I decide to do something, and start by getting out of bed and picking my clothes off the floor.
    When I was done, I put on some fresh clothes, consisting of plaid pajama pants and a pocket t-shirt. That’s all I pretty much wear when hanging around my apartment. But I don’t think I always woke up naked, with my clothes scattered everywhere. Most of the time, it’s just me living a lonely life inside my apartment. I mean, I have no problem going out and going places, it’s just that I don’t prefer it, not as much as I used to. I wish I had someone to take places. Man, look at me, feeling sorry for myself again. My attitude may have changed a little, but my train of thought is still the same.
    Anyway, I was just about to go out and get something to eat, when I heard a knock at my door. Could it be? Could she have returned? For a moment, I hesitated w hile gathering my thoughts, then quickly walked to open the door. Once the door was open, I saw that the person on the other side was not who I expected. I recognized this man as one of the city’s top socialites, not the top, but somewhere near. People like him were always coming around to my place, and sometimes I would go to them. But I wouldn’t call any of them friends, just casual acquaintances. This guy’s name was Brandon Harris.
    “Hey Luke,” he said casually.
    “Hey… Come on in.”
    He was wearing a dark suit, like he was on his way to a business meeting. But he always dressed like that. I’m not too sure what he does for a living; I think his father owns something. Brandon looks a little older than me, with a bad boy look. I don’t ask too many questions about people, nor they to me. But occasionally, people like to make small talk. Some people like to thank me by inviting me to parties and whatnot.
    “I just stopped by for some dust,” Brandon said. By that he meant cocaine. I deal cocaine and heroin, and I make a pretty damn good living off it too. I started a long time ago, a little after high school through some people I knew back then. That’s another long story. It doesn’t matter now. I was smart, and I was good.
    I shut the door before he asked. No one needs to know our business. I walk over to the chest on the opposite side of the room, next to my flat screen television.
    “How much you need?” I ask while opening the chest.
    “Let me get three grams of the Mexican shit you got,” he responded, taking a seat in my couch and taking a wad of cash out from his inside jacket pocket. “There’s a party tonight and I wanna make sure I have a good time. ”
    “Oh yeah?” I said back as I measured out the coke from