Worth Living For

Chapter 5

~Frank’s P.O.V.~

I smiled as I set the phone down. Wasting three days on trying to get an interview with the artist finally paid off. I was going to interview Gerard tomorrow at noon, and I couldn’t wait. It seemed so far away, though, so I needed to distract myself until then, to get time moving.

Booking the interview this early in the morning meant that I got to leave work and go home at lunch. I had no idea what I was going to do from the time I left at lunch until it was time to go to work in the morning, but I just wanted to get out of this damn cubicle and do something. I needed to sound like I knew things for tomorrow. I needed something to say, that would make the interview worthwhile for the artist.

~

I sat at the coffee shop from when I left work until nine o’clock, which was closing time. I had hoped that I would be able to think of clever things to say, but nothing had come to mind. I decided to just go home, get some rest, and wing it tomorrow.

When I made it home, I stripped down to my boxer, grabbed a notebook from my bedside table, and started to write down some questions that I could ask Gerard tomorrow. I had only come up with a few, and by midnight, my eyes grew heavy and I decided to wing the questions as well as something witty to say, too.

My alarm went off at 5:30 as expected, since I had been lying in bed, not sleeping, since four o’clock, and had nothing better to do but count the minutes down. I pulled myself out of bed and scrambled over to my closet, hoping that I would be able to find something decent and presentable to wear.

I emerged from the closet, and in my hands were a gray blazer that I didn’t even know I owned, a white tee, and a pair of dark jeans. I grabbed my pair of clean, barely worn black converse from the floor of the closet, then headed over to my dresser, where I pulled out some socks and a pair of briefs. I made my way to the bathroom, where I took a quick shower, then slipped my clothes on. I brushed my teeth, then spent forever trying to make my hair look decent, before I realized that I desperately needed a haircut. I made a mental note to do that this weekend. I left my hair as it was, as I was running out of time. I pulled on my shoes, grabbed my keys, and rushed out the door.

I stopped at the coffee shop and grabbed a cold coffee from one of the refrigerators since I didn’t have time to wait for a hot cup. I practically threw the money at the waitress’ face before I quickly apologized and ran out the door and down the street.

I made it to the office, five minutes late. I collapsed into my chair and took a deep breath, then a huge gulp of the iced coffee that was in my hand, which I realized was a stupid idea because it was literally 15 degrees outside and the heat had been turned on not even twenty minutes ago.

I sighed, knowing that I had at least five hours until the artist got here for his interview. I put what was left of the cold coffee on my desk and headed downstairs to the lounge for a hot cup. While I was down there, I grabbed a donut as well. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten breakfast, but I didn’t want the embarrassment of my stomach growling in the middle of the interview.

I sat down at one of the tables in the lounge and ate. I tried to think of more questions to ask the artist as I sat there, and again only came up with a few. I was almost finished with my breakfast, when I saw someone walk up to me from the corner of my eye, then sit down in the seat next to me. I picked my head up from where it had been staring at the table to see Ava smiling at me.

“You mind?” she asked, the plate of food and cup of coffee in her hands hovering inches above the table.

“Be my guest.” I replied.

She smiled and set her things down on the table, and started to eat.

“How are you?” she asked.