The One That Got Away.

Celeste

April 09, Orlando Florida. 

Why Jared had to end up in this God-forsaken town, he'll never know. His plane made an emergency landing and now he's stuck until he can get another flight to Miami. It's pouring down rain, and on top of that, it's humid and hot as hell. His driver dropped him off at the wrong address, where ever the hell this is and took off before Jared realized he had no idea where he was. It looked to be some kind of strip mall. Dingy, run down. There's a vape store, an appliance repair place, a used furniture store, among other useless retail shops. Jared ducks under an awning and calls his assistant Shayla. 

"Where are you?" Shayla doesn't bother with polite greetings, she knows her boss has no time for that.

"I don't fucking know! I'm soaking wet and I can't get an Uber for another two hours!"

"Two hours?!" Shayla replies in disbelief. 

"That's Orlando for you. Cow town. Nothing but Disney here."

"Disney's in Kissimmee, actually," Shayla corrects him.

"I don't give a fuck where it is! Look, I'll text you the address when I figure out where I'm at, see if you can get someone to pick me up, get me to a damn hotel!"

Jared hangs up, annoyed. He takes a look around trying to decide where to kill time until he can get out of this place. Vape shop? No, definitely not there, probably a bunch of stoners in there wanting selfies. He's soaking wet and in no mood for that. The fix-it place? Too dingy; it looks like the kind of place that would smell bad. A sudden bolt of lightning and a loud clap of thunder makes him jump a mile high. He decides to duck into a nondescript-looking retail shop. He pulls on the door handle, locked. He tries the door next to it, it's open.  He walks in, takes a look around. He can't figure out what kind of shop this is but there's a little private room with a couch off to the side. There are no lights but he doesn't care. He figures he'll lay low in there until the rain lets up. 

He just can't believe his luck. Of all places to get stranded. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and starts to calm himself down. After a few moments, he opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. There's something peaceful about this strange place. 

What is this place? Who works here? He wonders to himself. 

He smells food cooking but this isn't a restaurant. The room is cozy and quiet, except for music playing softly. He doesn't recognize the music. Of course, he doesn't listen to much music anyway but he likes this. Kind of a cross between the Cure and Radiohead. Something makes him pull out his phone and silence it. He starts feeling like he shouldn't be in here like this is a place not normally open to the general public. He wants to investigate but he feels the need to be sneaky about it. 

He stands up from the couch and cautiously peeks around the door frame into the other room. He sees boxes stacked on top of each other, inventory of some kind strewn about but he still can't figure out what kind of store this is. The smell of delicious food cooking is getting stronger, and his stomach growls.  Someone is cooking in the back. He half-heartedly wonders if they're vegan and if they've made enough to share. His phone lights up; Shayla has sent him a text.

Where are you?

He forgot he was going to send her the address. He pulls up his GPS app and texts her the address. Then he sits back down on the couch in the dark. Moments later another text.

Ok, I'm working on hiring a car to come to get you and take you to The Hilton. I'll let you know when arrangements have been made.

The Hilton is trash! He responds.