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Well, it’s Monday, and there has yet to be an update to Some Scars Never Heal. I apologize for the lateness of the update, but I’ve been having a few creative difficulties lately that have been slowing me down. And by that I mean I’ve been in a whole whack of pain that doesn’t allow my head to function very well. lol. I have an update ready to go, but I have nothing written beyond that, so I don’t want to post it until I’m a bit further ahead. I’ll keep everyone updated!

And don’t forget to check out my first published book, available at this link. Thank-you very much to everyone who has already purchased a copy, I greatly appreciate it.

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The next morning dawned bright and early with the alarm buzzing beside my head. I rolled over and shut it off, then kissed Orlando gently and got out of bed. I pulled on my robe and went to the kitchen for some coffee.

I was just switching on the coffee maker when someone knocked at the door. I hurried to answer it before it woke up Lisa or Orlando.

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I met Orlando in the hotel dining room at quarter to ten. He was already there, with a table, waiting for us. He’d showered and pulled his hair back into its traditional ponytail, and was wearing simple blue jeans and a white t-shirt, with a black dress shirt open over top. He looked positively delicious.

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Okay, something happened tonight that I’m a bit annoyed at (I don’t want to say angry, because it’s too strong of a word, and I don’t want to give some random internet user that kind of power over my life), so I thought I’d write about it here.

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The following day found me no closer to having a clean apartment than I’d been when I’d hung up from Orlando. After our conversation, and the picture in the magazine, I’d found it very difficult to settle to any one task, and so had sort of floated from one area to the next, not really accomplishing anything. I’d tried to at least get the recycling ready for my landlord to take to the road for me, but couldn’t even get that done. The piles of magazines were still all over my carpet, and the recycling box was still half-empty.

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The alarm buzzed loudly the following morning, telling me it was time to get up and face that damned computer screen again. Sherman was curled around my feet, in his usual spot, sound asleep, despite the noise from the insistent alarm. I reached over and shut it off, blinking at the sunlight that was pouring through the windows.

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Now my concentration was really shot to hell, and all thoughts of cleaning flew out the window. I paced the living room floor, well, what I could see of it, for a few minutes, my mind spinning over and over the idea of a wedding, and a step-father who probably wasn’t even my age yet. Mom had said he was in his twenties, but that was a pretty wide gap. He looked like he was at least 25, and it’d be a relief if he was older than my own 27 years.

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This is just a quick note to let everyone know that I’ve updated Some Scars Never Heal two days earlier than planned. I have a treatment for my back tomorrow (Friday), so I don’t know if I’ll be up to being online on Saturday, when the update was originally to be posted. Next weekend we’ll go back to Saturdays as usual.

“Charlotte, you’re late,” Nick scolded as I burst into the room. “Call time is six-thirty, and with the demands you put on your voice each night, you need this warm-up more than anyone.”

I felt my face heat up as I blushed. “I’m sorry, Nick,” I muttered as I took a spot next to Lisa, beside the piano. I saw the smirk on her face, though she tried to hide it by taking a sip of water from her bottle. I nudged her in the side as we began to do scales again. I saw Sean on the other side of the piano, watching me. I smiled, but he looked away.

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The Sunday show is always a matinee, starting at two, so Lisa and I had to be at work by noon. I was up at the crack of dawn, and watched the sun rise over the city, a beautiful site that often goes unappreciated. The weight of pain was heavy on me, and I didn’t have much to say while Lisa made breakfast and forced me to eat some of it. Orlando didn’t call before we left for the theatre, and it killed me inside.

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