Perfectly Imperfect a short story

Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Ivy Mai Sherry exited the neon lit Dunkin' Donuts carrying her new, steaming hot, cup of hot chocolate. The heated liquid burning her hand through the thin foam cup. Walking back through the park path, she wondered in amazement at the beautiful pink and orange, streaking across the sky as the sun set. A new blanket of snow was falling, covering her footsteps and chocolate stain from the walk early this morning. The warm air had fallen with the sun, and Ivy wrapped her winter jacket tighter around her shivering body. A soft glow surrounded the trees, illuminating the falling snow with the casted light from the lamp posts. Reaching the edge of the pine-scented park, Ivy made a sharp right after the iron gates. Nearing her apartment, Ivy glanced around at the small neighbor hood that she could barely afford with her salary. The street had absolutely no light. The few lamps that lined the street edge were blown out. A post across the street was even bent in half, when a car filled with drunk college students, who lived in the building a block over, had crashed. Her neighbor, who lived a floor under her apartment in the ancient building was sitting on the front stoop, smoking which ever substance he was into this week. Glancing up at Ivy, her neighbor shot a leering look at her. Feeling nervous at the darkness circling in his eyes, Ivy smiled hesitantly, before reaching into her back pocket, extracting her door keys. Unlocking the front door, which was locked to try and ensure safety, Ivy used all her body weight to push open the wooden door, heavy from years of use and damage. Glancing around the small, air freshened smelling lobby, Ivy frowned at the abandoned cigarette butt, still smoking on the scuffed floor. Sighing at the low quality of her living conditions, Ivy was still thankful that she had a roof over her head and a semi warm room with a bed to rest her head on. Climbing up the battered stairs, Ivy reached her floor and unlocked her apartment door. Shutting the door softly behind her, Ivy shed her jacket, hanging it up on the hook, the back of her door doubling as a coat hanger. Slipping off her Uggs, the fur lining on the inside ripping apart at the seams, Ivy padded in her mismatch ankle socks to her small kitchen. Setting down her foam cup, Ivy climbed onto the white countertop, humming to herself softly. Opening the top cabinet, Ivy retrieved a swirl designed mug from the back of the shelf. Climbing down from her perch, Ivy poured her new hot chocolate into her newly retrieved mug. Slipping on her fuzzy slippers, Ivy curled up on her green couch, the cushions sunken in. Pulling her feet under her, she sipped her hot chocolate and pressed the power button on her television remote. Hearing a slight crinkling noise, one that sounded like falling paper, Ivy glanced toward the door frame. A small, rectangular slip of paper lay on the ground. Shifting and placing her feet upon the wooden flooring, Ivy walked toward the door. Crouching down to floor level, she reached out and wrapped her small fingers around it. Standing up from her hunches, Ivy glanced at the paper, chuckling at Blayke's name scrawled across it. Pondering at the number, she recognized it as an office line. 'Typical he didn't trust anyone with his cell number,' she thought, chuckling again. Should she call? Reaching into her back pocket, she withdrew her cell phone. The cheap plastic cool to the touch. Flipping open the phone, Ivy dialed the numbers before having second thoughts. Hearing the ringing on the other line, Ivy waited a moment before someone answered.

“Blayke Quinn's office. How may I help you?” a cheery, female tone rang out from the other side of the conversation.

“Hello!” Ivy said, in her usual, gleeful voice.

“How may I help you?” the voice asked again. Ivy sighed in annoyance.

“Can I speak to Mr. Quinn please?” she asked patiently.

The voice replied quite calmly, “He is in a meeting right now Miss. May I take a message?”

Ivy thought for a moment..... The man did not know her name! Then she had an idea. Grinning, Ivy replied, “Tell him the Hot Chocolate Lady would like to meet up.”

Blayke's Point of View:

Exiting the meeting hall, Blayke Cameron Quinn walked towards his secretary's desk. Leaning on the front of the wooden piece, he grinned down at the middle aged woman, who was like a second mother to him.

“Good evening Mrs!” Blayke said happily, feeling his mood perk up immensely. The older woman looked up and laughed.

“Hello Blayke! Nice meeting?” she asked, thoughtfully.

Groaning, Blayke replied with a sharp roll of his grey eyes. “No Mrs!” Looking down at her desk, the woman flipped open her notebook, the same spiral bound journal that she took messages in.

“You have a message Blayke!” Mrs. said, in her usual cheerful voice. “A woman who called herself the 'Hot Chocolate Lady' would like to meet up with you.”

Blayke paused at this message. He never received personal calls on his office line! And who was this 'Hot Chocolate Lady?' Then Blayke realized, the lady who bumped into him in the snowy park this morning! Now his mood was really lifted. Who was this woman?