The Writer & The Player #Wattys2016

Chapter 3

I woke up suddenly, in panic of my whereabouts, until I remembered that I was in The Plaza Hotel. The booking Regina made had started tonight in which she demanded that I must stay in the Hotel, rather than my own comfy apartment in my own comfy bed.

Which was only two blocks away, I might add.

As for Zac, he was directly across the hall from me, must to my dismay, and had been out for a good part of the afternoon after our lunch and partly into the night.

I rolled on my side and picked up my phone from the bedside table. It was only 10pm and as far as I knew he hadn't gotten back to his room yet.

The journalist part of me knew I should stay up and wait to see what I can gather from Zac's big night out in the city, but the normal more exhausted part of me knew that my actual assignment didn't start until tomorrow and that surely one night of missing out on Zac's wild night life wasn't going to hurt.

I rolled out of bed, sitting up. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep. The place was unfamiliar and so standard it made it hard for me to fall asleep.

I sighed and headed towards the kitchen I didn't expect this room to have. It was suite number 502 on the twentieth floor, called a penthouse suite. I was pretty sure Zac's replicated mine, just in reverse.

I grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water from the faucet, then made my to the baby blue couch in front of the television. If I wasn't going to sleep, I might as well watch some TV to pass sometime.

I placed the glass onto the see-through coffee table with white roses in the centre, and flicked on the 60" plasma sceen TV with the remote.

I sighed as the folder caught my eye on the coffee table. I still hadn't looked at it and I knew I should've if I didn't want the another big surprise today like I had at lunch.

Sighing, I pushed the folder away momentarily. I decided that I'd look at it after I relaxed with some comedy-relief with F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

They were the re-runs they show late at night that roll on into the early hours of the morning, and before I knew it, it was early hours of the morning.

I yawned glancing at the time widening my eyes. Alarm rose up through my body. It was 1:30am, and I still hadn't looked at the folder.

I gripped the folder in my hands and shuffled up the couch. The room was lit dully by the two lamp posts on opposite ends of the couch. The warm ambiance of the lights were making my eyes droop and almost fall asleep. But I had to prepare for tomorrow.

Flicking open the folder and placing the schedule to the side, I quickly scanned over the briefing of the assignment in the same format it always is. The words rolled on into the same formality it always does in every assignment, in Regina's demeaning voice telling us how to do our job and what happens if we don't.

I picked the schedule back up, and looked at what I had install for tomorrow's day.

My eye's scanned down Tuesday's line, where my day was beginning at 6am. In 4 and a half hours. Gym was scheduled in downtown New York City with Zac's personal trainer. Then at 9am was when my eyes double-took.

'Flight 302 at Terminal 4 Gate 6: Direct flight to from New York City to Los Angeles: First Class: Seat 47'

Then sure enough I looked back into the folder, flurried through the papers, and found my first class ticket from New York City to Los Angeles, Seat 48. I was stuck next to him for the next 5 hours in a plane.

My breathing sped up, as my head started to get dizzy. I hated a planes. I hadn't flown in a plane since my Dad and sister. I wasn't going to be able to get on that plane tomorrow.