Worth It Chapter 9

Full satisfaction does not come from satisfying the senses alone. We have capacity to experience happiness at a much deeper level. Paraphrased from Dali Lama


Chapter 9: PIECES OF ME

“Thank God, you made it back, and it wasn’t you.” Noa felt the tension dissipate from top to bottom.

Lonne laughed. “Of course I did. I always do.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Noa could hear the Lakers’ game playing in the background. She knew Lonne flipped it on the moment she walked in the door, even before checking her messages.

“No, I just got here. What’s going on?” Lonne’s tone grew somber.

“They found another woman, in pieces, along the 91 Freeway from Compton to Riverside.”

“When?” Lonne muted the game.

“It’s in this morning’s paper and all over the Net. From what they can piece together, literally, she appears to be in her mid to late forties, blue eyes, blonde--with a little help, and Caucasian. Sounded just like you to me. I’ve had you dead for the past twelve hours. You have to stop turning that cell phone off!”
Lonne believed her cell phone was for her service, not she a servant to it. She turned it off until needed, and the rest of the world could leave a message that would be answered when convenient.

“You should have called.”

“I tried, and who should I call? Your daughters thought you were with me!”

“Oh my, I see what you mean. That would have really blown my cover. Thanks for not alarming them. Give me details.”

Lonne’s seventeen-year-old daughter often spent the night with her married older sister when Lonne was out of town on business or pleasure. Lonne loved the idea of trading baby-sitting duties with her daughter, and built up redeemable overnights by watching her baby granddaughter.

“That’s about all they have right now. No car, no identification. Just another dead middle age woman. They did say this one fits the same MO. All manicured, pedicured, waxed and lifted. I swear, I thought it was you.”

“I feel for the poor woman. That’s a hell of a lot of maintenance to go though to end up in a ditch. It’s some sick bastard for sure.”

“And you have all your information right out there for the world to read, and pictures too! If he has Internet access, and I’m sure he does, he has his choice of women to choose from.”

“But why? Why would anyone want to do that to someone?” Lonne’s voice revealed the vulnerability she felt, but hoped was disguised.

“Because he can. Because he’s pissed at women. Because she rejected him. Because she reminds him of someone who hurt him. Because she made herself available and he saw an opportunity. She was the right woman in the right place at the right time.” Noa paraphrased a political sound bite. “She was the one he wanted to do, and he didn’t have loving on his mind.”

“OK, OK, I get your point. I’ll be more careful. No more meeting strangers in unfamiliar places until they catch this guy. Geez, a girl can’t have a good time anymore without worrying about getting hacked to death. What is America coming to?”

Noa wondered too. Often, when she closed the beach house up for the night by methodically locking all the doors and windows, she questioned what she was locking out. Certainly, the cool night ocean breeze, but primarily man. She bolted the door against the predatory night stalkers, hillside stranglers, serial rapists and mass murderers who threatened her safety and security simple because she was a single woman who lived alone. A target, easy prey. The evolution of man has not distanced us far from cave man tactics.

Noa took precautions. Lonne threw caution to the wind. She played the odds. They had both lived long enough to know women who were mugged, robbed and raped. It often hit close to home. A man who followed her home from Trader Joes on a Saturday morning raped Noa’s next-door neighbor years earlier. It did not always happen to someone else.

“Just be careful. Even the guy who looks and acts like a gentleman can turn ugly. There are too many guys out there you can not trust, and you take off for weekends and overnights without so much as asking their last name. Just do a little checking first, that’s all I’m asking.” Noa cut short the lecture even though she was concerned for Lonne’s safety.

“Finding someone to love shouldn’t be this hard. Now we have to risk our lives every time we log on and try to hook up with someone. And Noa, don’t you dare remind me again about the guy from Seattle with the hammer.”

Noa laughed. “That was an eye opener, but I know I have worn that story out.”

In the early days of Internet dating an article appeared in the Los Angeles Times detailing a cyber date gone wrong. When the woman realized she was with a psycho and tried to leave the restaurant, he followed her to her car and attacked her with a hammer. The woman was Lonne. It was extracurricular on Lonne’s behalf. She was married, but seeking. It was the catalyst that brought about the demise of marriage number two.

“That was a long time ago, and I’m smarter now—I valet, Lonne quipped. “Seriously, I’m fine, and thanks for caring, but relax. You may not think so, but I’m choosy, and I can’t just stop going out. I refuse to let fear win.” Lonne remained resolute in the pursuit of her happiness. Not even a claw hammer could stop her.

“Me too, we just fight it in different way. Go back to your basketball game, lock your doors and I’ll see you soon.” Noa realized Lonne never mentioned the man she met. “Oh, what about the man you went to meet?”

“Hmmm, sweet, kind, retired with pos-si-bil-i-ties.” Lonne drew the word out deliberately to emphasis his potential. “He’s hard to read, holds his cards close to the his chest, and you know me, that just makes him all the more intriguing.”

“So you’ll see him again?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

The hunt was on.

Chapter 8: Sons and Guns

We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools. Martin Luther King Jr.


Noa opened the letter. The recognition of the handwriting brought a flood of emotion and memories into her heart and throat. She felt her heart quicken. Three weeks had passed and no word. Nothing. The stillness frightened her. She feared a trio of uniformed men would appear at her door. They would not be welcomed.


Noa’s knowledge of war was limited, and for that she was thankful. It was a subject she was uncomfortable with, yet felt passionately about. She sensed her country acted too swiftly in response to the attack on native soil, and thereby, missed an opportunity to become citizens of the world. Instead, they responded in like kind with an eye for an eye, a life for a life times the power of America, and drew a dividing line between the USA and most of the world.


As a super power their retaliation had to be bigger, more powerful. A swift and clear win. It seemed very old school to Noa. Yet, she was involved in the war in the most personal sense. Her son was there embroiled in the battle for hearts and minds while carrying a very big gun.


Noa’s heart melted at the very sight of his handwriting. She pressed the paper he rested his hand on while selecting words to convey his thoughts to her check, knowing his DNA was there from the saliva used to seal the letter before it began its two week journey to her. It was as close as she could get to him. Noa held the letter to her face and inhaled deeply. She could smell him.


Blessed or cursed with a super sense of smell and taste, Noa remember the scent of each of her children, a few choice lovers and a couple of beloved pets. They were embedded in her soul, and frequently came wafting back at the most unsuspecting moments. This was truly one of the times she received the scent as a blessing.


Jake, her baby boy, was an American specimen of raw manhood, strong beliefs, a desire to make a difference, and at seventeen, he was itching to get started.


September 11 was his calling. Still in high school, he begged Noa to let him join the Marines. Noa recalled the moment with intense pride and gut wrenching fear.


“But Mom, I’m going to do it as soon as I turn eighteen, so what difference does it make if I do it now?” Jake’s lithe six foot two frame, vibrating with energy, leaned forward and waited for Noa’s answer.


“I’m not gong to sign for something you may later regret. The world is very unsettled right now. Take some time. Wait. It’s too dangerous, and bottom line—I don’t want you to go.” Noa jutted a replica of Jake’s strong jawline toward him, and hoped against hope he would change his mind. But indecisiveness had never been Jake’s problem. He chose sports, friends and hobbies with careful consideration, and stood by them. Noa knew he would be a Marine. When you are laying a life foundation, conviction counts.


Jake stood and paced the length of the room and back, then turned and faced Noa straight on. He was so close she could feel his breathe as he spoke.


“If not me, then who? Who should go? Should somebody else’s son die protecting us, me, you, your grandchildren, my nieces and nephews?”


“I’m only asking you to wait until you’re certain it’s the right decision. Then, if that’s what you want, I won’t stand in the way of your heart’s desire.” Noa’s eyes welled with emotion. “And if you still believe this is your way to make a difference, then do it.”


“Mom, you gotta believe.”


Noa knew he was right. It was a triumphant moment of motherhood. Confirmation of a job well done. “Then be the best Marine you can be.” Noa cupped Jake’s cheeks loosely in her hands. “And I have no doubt that will be a damn good one.”


Noa wrapped each word of the letter around her heart, and then placed it on the bedside table to be read again when comfort and closeness were needed.

Worth It

Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind. Dr. Seuss


Chapter 7: THE TIES THAT BIND

“Lonne, don’t you think this is a little premature?” Noa cautioned, feeling worry and concern for Lonne’s safety, and questioning the wisdom of the romance roulette wheel her friend was constantly spinning.

“No, besides, what difference does it make whether it’s the desert, or next door? Every date has the chance of being divine or a disaster. Believe me, distance is not the determining factor.”

Lonne’s search for love knew no boundaries. Her quest was no longer confined to Los Angeles.

“We’ve talked several times on the phone, and he seems sincere. And, let’s face it, I’d rather drive for a couple of hours and see him on his own turf, than just meet somewhere halfway. If he can’t back up what he’s told me, then I’ll enjoy the desert heat and head back to LA. Besides, I can use a little getaway.” Lonne appreciated Noa’s concern, but pressed ahead with her plan.

Love, like water, will pursue its own path, and Lonne enjoyed being a plaything in the hands of destiny.

“He can’t be any worse than the midget I met on Match!”

Lonne was able to find humor in the mismatches of online dating services, but continued to enjoy the possibilities they offered. She swore it was one of the best ways for women “of a certain age” to meet available men. It was risky, but Lonne was willing to take the risk in order to reap the potential reward of love. In the meantime, she settled for new scenery, new restaurants and naughty sex.

Fast approaching fifty, Lonne swore she had never been married to a man she loved, or loved by a man she married. Her marriages were matters of pressure, possession and power. Even in Sweden, during the seventies it was difficult being an unwed mother. So Lonne married, gave birth, sank into a dark depression, and planned her escape.

After a bitter divorce battle, and the realization she would have to leave her daughter behind for the time being, Lonne left. It was that, or become another Swedish suicide statistic. Sometimes you have to save your own life first.

With her first marriage behind her, Lonne left homeland and family behind and headed for Los Angeles. She was scared, but experience had already taught her everything worthwhile in life is risky and sometimes you just have to drop your pants and slide on the ice. She wanted more. More of everything, and America dangled unlimited possibilities just across the sea. The lure of warm days and hot nights crystallized her decision. Hello LA! She was here to play.

Her second marriage came soon after arriving. Blond, beautiful and young enough to still be filled with hope, Lonne embarked on a whirlwind romance and married a wealthy older man two days after his divorce was final, and six weeks after they met. His financial position allowed Lonne to bring her daughter to LA every summer and during the holiday winter break. She enjoyed a palatial home on New York Hill in Palos Verdes Estates, cemented her financial security with the birth of another baby girl, took up golf and shopping to fill her days, fantasized about other men, and uttered an occasional oh and ah while enduring her husband’s attempts at intimacy during those years filled with orgasmless nights.

She had everything, except the love she traveled thousands of miles to find. Her husband was a decent man, but not a good match for the depth of lusty desires Lonne harbored in her heart. She did not stray because she found pleasure in being unfaithful; instead she was unfulfilled and driven by her very nature to fill that vacuum.

“Well, at least give me a little information about him, and call me when you get back.” Noa wrote down the information, and reminded Lonne to be careful. “Take care, and I’ll talk to you when you return.” Noa placed the phone back on the cradle. She tucked the piece of paper inside the desk drawer and hoped she would never have to use the information listed on it. Acts, not words, form the ties that bind.

Noa, unlike Lonne, was not a multiple serial dater. Her style was more sequential, never dually engaged. One man, and long term was the only acceptable mating style for her. She did not need to be married, but she did need to be mated, or at least engaged in the dance.

Friday Night Fiction Chapter 6

If you missed the first 5 chapters you can find them at http://noarose.blogspot.com/


Everyone’s a star and deserves the right to twinkle. Marilyn Monroe


Chapter 6: THE PROPOSAL

Noa’s mind lilted through a replay of the evening’s conversation on the forty-five minutes drive back to Palos Verdes. Pleasant enough, even though it meant another problem for Noa to handle in her already overloaded schedule. Noa exhaled slowly. I think that‘s the one thing I want more of, time. It’s becomes more precious as there is less of it to waste. Spend it wisely. Noa chided herself.

Noa knew her friends thought she was out of her mind to continue the cat and mouse relationship with Jett, and maybe they were right, but Noa was not one to give up. She didn’t believe in throwing people out of her life, especially if she had once loved them, or perhaps loved them still. She believed love did not vanish, it simply morphed into another form of caring. Love might not be constant, but for Noa, it was eternal. But she would rather spend the rest of her life alone, than endure it with a watered down version of true love. She could never be satisfied with settling.

To be honest, Noa found most men self-adsorbed, boorish and intellectual duds. Forget biceps, Noa found brains the sexiest part of a man’s anatomy. Jimmy Carter, Henry Kissinger, Alan Greenspan, Colin Powell, Stephen Hawkings and Bill Clinton were men among the living she would love to spend an evening with---dinner only and wives invited. The dead list was longer.

Even as a teenager, Noa abhorred the dating scene. To her it was a waste of time to spend an entire evening with someone whom she was not remotely interested in, just to have a date. There were so many more satisfying ways to spend her time. Reading the classics, plein-air painting and running like a gazelle through the rolling hills of her parent’s farmland. Visiting her grandmother, babysitting nieces and nephews, and preparing for college –Noa had goals, and getting out of Iowa was a top priority. It was wide-open country filled with too many narrow minds.

Boys, especially the locals, were of little interest and did not fit into Noa’s plan. Noa knew falling in love with a local boy would mean never leaving, and living the life of his choice, not hers. She needed to pursue her own passions and design her own life. A path few chose in her area and era.

Noa mused as she drove down PCH. How far from Iowa she had come! But not without pain, loss and other life lessons sometimes administered with a stinging slap, and other times by slow euthanasia. The letting go was always hard, but Noa knew no one escaped it.

Noa smiled as she recalled the first time she met Jett. Bel Air Hotel, 1997. She returned the night before from a visit to Iowa to hire a new innkeeper at her bed and breakfast inn, a holdover from her divorce settlement. With that accomplished, and a quick family get together dinner, Noa flew back to LA to finalize the biggest deal of her career.

Jett was the buyer, even though Noa had never met him. The transaction was conducted via phone, fax and Fed-X. Jett was familiar with the land, later confessed to seeing Noa’s picture in one of the glossy upscale real estate magazines, and called her to write the offer. Sometimes a girl gets lucky.

Noa valet parked, and crossed the footbridge entrance. The Bel Air was her favorite hotel in Los Angeles. Old, lushly landscaped, regal and romantic, it was tucked away on Stone Canyon Drive in ritzy Bel Air. Noa recalled her last visit was an overnight stay with her ex-husband in an attempt to resuscitate their dying marriage. She remembered the setting, the food, the room and the sadness that not even a luxurious setting with all its amenities could fill the emptiness in her heart. Marriage is difficult when your spouse is a stranger. Noa had not returned since.

The patio dining room was choice seating for Saturday brunch. Noa was escorted to Jett’s table. He stood, all six feet four inches, and Noa extended her hand.

“Finally, we meet!” At five feet seven Noa rarely felt short, but Jett towered above her.

“Hello, Miss Noa, you look exactly like your photo.” The voice was deep and low.

Noa laughed. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Well, you never know.” Jett chuckled, “Some of those realtor photos are pretty old. You know, more the way we were, not the way we are.”

A slow smile crossed Noa’s lips. A sense of humor, yes, she liked that.
“True. But I don’t like any surprises.” Noa realized her faux pas immediately. Jett had not mentioned he was black, but he also did not mention he was tall or any other physical characteristic. Maybe he saw it as a non-issue. Noa did. She hoped she had not offended him before she even sat down.

“Are you surprised?” His manner was friendly, but mildly taunting.

“Pleasantly.” Noa placed her napkin on her lap, and then looked up to meet his eyes.

“Right answer. Here, this is for you. A little token of my appreciation. You did a great job. Very professional.” Jett pushed the gift bag toward Noa.

“You didn’t have to do this. Shall I open it now?” Noa was accustomed to purchasing gifts for her clients, not receiving one from them.

“Please. I’d like to know if you like it.”

Noa removed the ribbon from the first box—perfume. “Oh, I love it! It’s one of my favorites, Poeme. And, what’s this? More?” Noa lifted the second box from the bag.

“I couldn’t decide which to purchase, so I took both. I’m usually not indecisive, but scent is so personal. If it’s not for you, you can exchange it at Neiman Marcus.”

Noa looked at the second bottle, -----she was not familiar with it, but it would become one of her favorite scents. “You didn’t have to do this, but thank you.”

During the weeks prior they had engaged in many phone calls, primarily business, but Noa had informed Jett, as well as the rest of her current clients, when she was going to be out of town. He inquired if her husband would be traveling with her, and that prompted a short foray into her marital status and his. Noa did not find this unusual. The client agent relationship could become quite close in a very short time. It was important to develop trust early on. Revealing personal facts was an effective way to develop the relationship, and discover the motivation and needs of a client.

“You’re not finished yet.” Jett glanced at the bag.

Noa looked perplexed, then removed the tissue from the bottom of the bag to find a slim, narrow box. A sliver pen. “Oh, this is exquisite!”

“For your next offer, and our next deal.”

“I’ll toast to that.” Noa placed the gifts on the chair next to hers, and lifted her champagne glass. This was an unusual man, she thought, and very intriguing.

In the middle of their breakfast there was a flurry of activity at the reserved table next to theirs.

“Secret Service.” Jett said, motioning with his eyes to the dark suited duo.

Moments later, Nancy Reagan entered with friends, and was seated for brunch.

She witnessed the proposal.

After the champagne, Eggs Benedict and cappuccino, the server brought a small cake to their table.

“For me?” Noa looked perplexed but pleased.

“A belated birthday cake. You did have a birthday while you were away, right?”

Noa was amazed he remembered. She had casually mentioned her family in Iowa was having a small dinner in honor of the August birthdays in the family, and since that included her, she had to stay an extra day. She said it as a means of explaining her delayed return to LA.

“How kind and thoughtful of you. It’s been years since I had a birthday cake! And it’s chocolate, my favorite.” Noa declined the candle offered, but heartily accepted the generous portion from the server.

Jett and Noa lingered over another glass of champagne. Then without warning, Jett placed his napkin on the chair next to him, and stood. Noa took this as a cue that brunch was over, and she pushed her chair back in preparation to leave.

Jett suddenly knelt on one knee before Noa, and took her left hand in his. Noa’s face registered confusion first, followed by complete disbelief. Brunch had proven what Noa suspected. Jett Krabe lived large. But this was beyond large.

“Noa, will you marry me?” By now the attention of most of the diners was focused on table one.

Noa laughed nervously. “Jett, get up. Is this some kind of joke?”

“I never joke about money or love.” Jett remained on his knee. “ I also don’t hesitate to go after what I want. I fell in love with who you are before I ever saw you. Today just confirmed that.”

Noa sat stunned by the turn of events. “Please, Jett. People are staring.” Noa struggled to make sense of the moment. There was a current flowing between them from the moment she arrived. But this was incomprehensible, and as close to crazy and impetuous as Noa had ever come, but she said yes.

Such a moment.

Welcome to Lipstick Fiction

Later this weekend I will move my fiction entries from Choose the Present blog to Lipstick Fiction Blog! I'm so excited and I hope you will have as much fun reading it as I have writing it.
Your comments and suggestions are welcome!

Kick off your heels and gloss up your lips--this is about embracing your female powers!