The Journal 8 (Patreon)

I call an Uber. I know. A guy like me, hardboiled detective, calling an Uber? But, hey, my vintage Camaro is in the shop. Again.  I wait on the sidewalk outside the hotel, feeling like a fool. The late afternoon sun is blazing, and I start to sweat. An odd thought occurs to me-- I don't want to be all smelly and sweaty when I see Mike. I should clean up. But some brill cream in my hair. I realize I am thinking of Mike as that gorgeous girl, and I want her to--

But, no. She-- he-- is Mike. The idea of cleaning up for him is ridiculous.  The Uber finally shows. I give my destination to the driver. He gives me a look in the mirror, like-- oh, yeah! You're going to have some fun tonight! I try and smile, but it's more like a grimace.  Thankfully, he turns his attention to the road.

I turn my attention to the journal. I read the next entry:

Wet midnight lashes

Candy lips, pink pearly cheeks

Nails hard as this life

And I am no longer in the car. I am no longer tired and old and sweaty. I am watching Mike sitting in front of a mirror, and she is using her pinky finger to wipe a stray smudge of lipstick from the edge of those big, plump lips. She looks gorgeous, with all that thick, wavy hair framing her perfect face, with those big eyes blinking, those wet, midnight lashes.

I pick up a thick brush and dab it into a tray of pearly pink blush. As I dust my cheeks, I feel my forearm press against my breast. I am wearing a hot pink bra, the straps bright against my soft, tan shoulders and--

I shake my head, yanking myself from that vision, dream. I am in the car, and I put my hands on my chest. I am me, but I can still feel the tacky lipstick on my lips, and I feel the bra straps on my shoulders. Terrified, I reach into my shirt, expecting to feel that elastic strap, but I touch only my own skin.  

I tough my lips. No lipstick. The feelings fade. "Driver," I say, voice broken. I am about to tell him I've had a change of plans. That I want to go home.

"Yeah?"

I collapse back into my seat. "Nothing. Go."