16 #Emojitional

June 27, 2017

Tuesday

jerseykid6232: There are 8 million stories in the naked city; this one’s mine. 

looking43bears:  but how many naked stories are there?  #skinisin

1sassielassie:  My granddad used to watch that show!  #nakedcity #classictv

gypsysoulle:  The city doesn’t interest me but show me a naked soul….

ireadskullbumps: That’s why there are 4 million mental health professionals.  #ahem #hashtag     

cherrysnark: what does that even mean?

vinniefarrell_8: Nobody gives a shit about your story.  #goyankees

June 28, 2017

Wednesday

jerseykid6232: Sometimes it’s worth taking the subway. 

looking43bears: Rock on my brothas! #longlivethearts

1sassielassie: Ooh!  What were they playing?

gypsysoulle:  I adore the sultry beat of a bass drum

ireadskullbumps: This would have been more effective as a video post.  I’ll talk to you about that later.  #ahem  #hashtag

cherrysnark:  Nice to know there’s something worthwhile lurking under New York.  Send them up to 5^th Ave, would ya?  #tiffanyandco #saks

vinniefarrell_8:  I saw some major up and comers that way back in the day. Too bad they’re all price gouging on tickets now.  #organizedscalping  #ticketbastard

June 30, 2017

Friday

Friday night traffic was a bitch in New York.  Jon was swiping through his email for the third time in two blocks, trying to exercise some kind of patience despite his growing boredom.  Having a driver made no difference in these kinds of situations.  Cars and taxis were crammed together in such congestion that there was very little actual driving.

He would’ve walked if the trip from his place to the Midtown Manhattan studio wasn’t three miles and didn’t require his guitar.  Navigating pedestrian traffic with a guitar case was almost as bad as being stuck in the same damn spot for five minutes. 

Biting back a huff of impatience, Jon tapped out a text to John Shanks, who was waiting for him at the other end of this car ride.  They were getting together to do some editing on a new song for the next phase of the tour.   If Jon ever got there.

[8:10PM]JON: On my way. Fucking traffic.

[8:11PM]SHANKS:  See you in an hour or two.  Haha.

Wasn’t that the damn truth?  He was just about to finger-type a message to that effect when the notification for another incoming text arrived. 

[8:12 PM]TEDDI:  Hello.  You haven’t posted for a couple of days, nor have I heard from you all week.  I just wanted to check in.   

His impatience butted up against frustration.  Too many times this week Jon had caught himself thinking of Cookie, her cookies – and her date.  It was none of his business, but that didn’t dull the bad taste in his mouth.

[8:14PM]JON: I’ve been busy with things that are slightly less mind numbing. 

[8:16PM]TEDDI: Alright.  There’s plenty of time before the nominations come out, but I’d like to go over the outline of your marketing plan as well as video posting.  FaceTime on Monday?

He was irritated with the whole damn Instagram thing right now, too.  That asshole Vinnie whatshisface kept pushing Jon’s buttons, while the sassie person was perpetually perky.  And then there was the gypsy – Esmerelda.  She had started sending him what he assumed were private messages since they popped up in a different spot.  Messages that suggestively skirted the line between intriguing and creepy and leaned more toward erotica than porn.

gypsysoulle: You’ve posted next to nothing about yourself, but there’s a magnetism that’s unmistakable.

gypsysoulle: You’re aggressive in bed, aren’t you?  It’s good sometimes.  Once you reach a certain point, nothing else can satisfy.  I understand.

gypsysoulle: Do you ever have moments of passion that you wish would never end?  Encounters that you’d like to prolong?  To experience something more……. intense?       

gypsysoulle: You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?  I could teach you.

Naturally, he hadn’t answered her.  It was creepy as fuck knowing one of Teddi’s assistants was hitting on him.  There was always the possibility it was just scripted, but he’d thought about the messages more than he should.  Enough to make him a little horny.    

That was one of the reasons he’d avoided Teddi.  With his thoughts lingering on passion, and her having a boyfriend or whatever, Jon didn’t need to watch her fiddle with that necklace while wondering if the skin beneath it smelled like cookies.  Or tasted, for that matter. 

Avoidance wasn’t possible now that she’d politely barged into his traffic jam boredom, and he wasn’t all that anxious to escort her back out.  It was either chat with her or Shanks on this interminable ride uptown, and Jon would be spending the better part of the evening with Shanks.   Teddi was more interesting, even if she was paid to be a pain in the ass.

[8:18PM]JON: Can’t.  I’m taking this week for family.  Figured you’d have your own plans for the 4th holiday.

[8:20PM]TEDDI:  Just keeping my finger on the 911 button in case the neighbors’ fireworks set my trees aflame.

He found himself chuckling out loud at the unexpectedness of her statement.  If he was talking to David, Jon would automatically assume it was randomly made-up bullshit, but Teddi didn’t strike him as the bullshitting type.

[8:21PM]JON: LOL.  Happen often?

[8:22PM]TEDDI: Once.  #lessonlearned

With a chorus of taxi horns blaring at the stalled traffic, Jon’s swallowed groan wasn’t barely audible in the back of the town car.  Fucking hashtags.  He scowled while tapping out his disgust.    

[8:23PM]JON: Oh God.  Don’t start that hash tag shit here.

[8:24PM]TEDDI:  If you’d use them on Instagram, I might not be as compelled to cram them down your throat at every opportunity.  #justsaying

[8:25PM]JON: They’re stupid.

[8:28PM]TEDDI: Think of them as free marketing. You make up a hashtag and all your superfans attach it to their posts. That’s enough people to start it trending, which makes all the casual fans realize something is happening. You get snowballed into the Hall on a hashtag.  #itcouldhappen

[8:29PM]JON: #fatfuckingchance

There was a long period of silence, and as a cop on a horse passed the car, Jon wondered if he’d offended her. 

C’mon Cookie.  You’re tougher than that.

[8:33PM]TEDDI: Oh my. Thank you for the best laugh I’ve had in ages. 

She’d been quiet because she was laughing too hard to type?  He could still recall being fascinated by the laughter that day in her office and Jon grinned at the phone, wishing they were on video instead of text messaging.    

[8:34PM]JON: Laughing at my misery, huh?  And here I thought you were into the preservation of mental health, not the annihilation of it.

[8:36PM]TEDDI:  Ha.  Don’t try laying a guilt trip on me.  Your mental health is almost as robust as your ego.

What could he say?  She was right.  He was as mentally stable as anybody.  Most days.  There were a few times things had turned a little iffy, but he got himself back on track.

[8:37PM]JON: Yeah. Maybe.

[8:38 PM]TEDDI: Mhm. Enjoy your family time.  I’ll speak to you the Monday after the 4th?

[8:39 PM]JON: Sure.  Here’s hoping your tree doesn’t go up in flames, Cookie.

[8:40 PM]TEDDI: Speaking of… You never did send me that address for the cookies.

No, he hadn’t, and it wasn’t accidental.  From time to time, Jon could be a little – or a lot – stubborn.  This may or may not have been one of those times.

The way he figured, if he wanted to eat cookies alone in his apartment, Stephanie could supply them.   He was more interested in the experience of eating the cookies with a woman who naturally – or cosmetically – smelled like those same cookies.  That’s what he wanted from Teddi.

But since the discovery of her boyfriend had taken that game off the table…   

[8:41 PM]JON:  I forgot.

[8:42 PM]TEDDI:  Okay.  Since you didn’t offer it just now, I’ll assume you don’t want them and not bring it up again. 

Annndd now he was irritated again. 

It didn’t matter that her reply was perfectly logical in light of his.  One of his favorite toys had just been taken away and Jon was feeling petulant.  Her next text didn’t do anything to negate it, either.

[8:42 PM]TEDDI:  BTW, the flowers are still lovely.  Julia and I have both enjoyed them, so thank you again.

Fuck it.  If a fake gypsy named Esmerelda can offer me intense passion, I can sure as hell hold onto my cookie fetish.

[8:43 PM]JON: You’re welcome.  I’d rather come get the cookies fresh.

[8:44 PM]TEDDI: That isn’t wise.  They’re much better a day or two later.

Traffic was finally flowing, at least by New York standards, but Jon ducked his head and typed as though the studio wasn’t just ahead. 

[8:44 PM]JON: Been eating my cookies, have you?

[8:45 PM]TEDDI:  They’re only yours if they bear your address. 

[8:45 PM]JON: You made them for me.

They’d arrived at the studio, and by some miracle, there was actually a space in front.  Part of a space, anyway.  Enough for the driver to wedge the car nose in before directing questioning eyes into the rearview mirror. 

“Would you mind getting my guitar out of the back?  I’ll be just a second.”

“Of course, sir.”

[8:46 PM] TEDDI:  I made them because you stirred a childhood memory.  I simply offered to share the fruits of my labor.

Wasn’t there some dirty reference in fruit?  Or fruits and vegetables?  He was almost sure David once sent him an… eggplant?  That was supposed to represent a dick, but he couldn’t quite recall the female foodie counterpart.

[8:47 PM]JON:  I think there’s an inappropriate use of fruit emojis to be made here, but fuck if I know which ones.

[8:48 PM]TEDDI:  We’ll cover emojis at a later date.  Goodnight, Jon.

Jon guffawed as the car door opened and put one foot out into the street while still typing. 

[8:49 PM]JON: Night Teddi.

The phone stayed in his left hand while Jon accepted the guitar with his right.  “Thanks, man.”

“Have a good evening, sir.”

He pushed through the studio door, and his face was still screwed up in thought while navigating the hallways that brought him to the room Shanks occupied.

“What the hell are you looking so sour about?”

“Emojis,” Jon told his producer shortly, propping the guitar case on a chair.  “If eggplant is dick, what’s pussy?”

They’d been friends long enough that Shanks didn’t even flinch before supplying, “Peach.”

A juicy peach with the dark pit made perfect sense, and actually rang a bell.  He remembered Dave telling him about it and proceeding to sing part of a Steve Miller song about peaches and tree shaking.

“That’s right.  Gimme a minute and we’ll get to work.”

jerseykidd6232: Is it peach season yet?  It feels like peach season.