I hope you enjoy this little snippet.
It's the first chapter of a piece that's been speaking to me for nearly a year, but I'd been putting it aside.
Being that my NaNoWriMo book is so dark, I needed a little fun, light, and love.
I have not given up on Diary of a Black Widow, but I find that I'm not so close to the dark place when I take little breaks from Black Widow.
I do intend to use this as part of my word count.

Hey, the challenge says 50,000 words in 30 days
-- and that's what I'm working on!

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This is tentatively titled: Her Leading Man, a contemporary romance.

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Chapter 1

Ella closed her eyes, listening to the train sounds as it gently rocked back and forth. She tried to allow the steady motion to calm her nervousness but the 45-minute ride into the city for an audition she had no business going to only nurtured more doubt. At 48-years old, she was an empty-nester, a widow, a retired teacher, and having had no stage experience except since her college days for what felt like a million years ago, she felt an urge to expand her creative reach and do something new.

Something crazy, she corrected.

Trying to mute the self-doubt, she allowed her hands to caress the leather portfolio on her lap which held some head shots her daughter took over a course of a spring weekend not too long ago. Ella relaxed and smiled thinking about Cara, feeling the warmth of pride fill her torso at the very thought of her daughter. Cara had been visiting for a rare extended weekend when she caught her trolling through newspaper and online audition sites “just seeing what’s was out there.” That was all her daughter needed before she switched from being a sweet, bright and energetic 24-year old child begging for homemade cooking to a demanding, photography director slash dictator, as was her chosen profession.

Insisting Ella audition for anything that “called” to her, Cara armed her with a portfolio of beautiful head, beauty, and action shots. It was one thing to be a proud mama and tell her friends about Cara’s latest celebrity shoots, it was a whole new beast being the subject of those photo shoots. It was a magical weekend of exhausting travel to various sites, wardrobe and makeup changes, and art direction, which gave her insight into the work Cara did, and why she was increasingly becoming sought-after by high-profile celebrities. That weekend was packed with wine tasting and photography in the vineyards and country forests to spending an entire day in the city; her daughter pulling out all the stops to treat mom a little bit. She suspects Cara made a few phone calls for exclusive access into a few galleries, but the most harrowing set of photographs came when Cara decided to set up some shots in a darkened city alley by a graffiti-covered dumpster when the largest rat they’d ever seen charged them. While Ella ran for her life screaming “rabies,” her daughter adamantly stood her ground taking action shots while still giving direction. She can’t recall the last time they laughed so hard as they laid on their belly cheek-to-cheek next to each other clicking through each frame on the laptop that night.

Had it not been for her daughter’s effort and support, she might have been satisfied searching the advertisements and left well enough alone. But a professional portfolio and a pinky promise to her daughter bound her to at least try. So while her resume lacked luster, she had her daughter’s beautiful work to spread around.

How Cara managed to make her look glamorous, even while running hellbent from a rat was a miracle, considering she felt very plain and ordinary. Her portfolio may, in fact be the only redeeming quality she had for an audition to an Off-Off-Broadway play. Keeping her eyes closed, she ran through the lines she’d memorized for her two prepared soliloquies and did her best not to worry about the people she might be auditioning against. The call was for a woman, a professional-type, empty-nester, traveling abroad on a mission of self-discovery, and finding love; all things she could relate to except for the traveling abroad and falling in love part. Her love story ended five years ago when Paul died from a massive coronary dissection.

She found herself widowed at the age of 43 and her world, like his heart, ripped at the seams. Paul was the one who pressed to have things like life insurance and pre-arrangements for their funeral so as not to burden their only child with such things. He was the planner; the common sense, stoic, and reserved half of their relationship. She, on the other hand, was the spontaneous one, keeping things light and creative; forcing him out of his comfort zones, often finding ways to make him laugh. They were polar opposites, but somehow it worked. And through the years, they found a wonderful balance and managed to influence each other enough to respect their differences but push each other to be better.

Their love affair began in college when she was a theater major as he was entering law school. They literally ran into each other on the way to their perspective classes, knocking the breath out of them. Papers went flying and both were seeing stars. Paul insisted it was love at first sight - the only time he wasn’t so rational and logical in his thinking. The memory of his smile brought a wave of melancholy rushing through her. She didn't cry at the mere thought of him anymore, but she often spoke to him.

Oh, Paul. How would you react to this ridiculous adventure?

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Shivering in the gusts of the concrete wind tunnels, Ella set afoot to hang out in Strawberry Fields to meditate in the sun before heading midtown toward the Theater District. With nearly two hours to kill before she was scheduled to audition, she wanted to feel grounded and peaceful before entering. No point in being rushed and nervous. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? She would have a day in the city and they say no? It certainly wouldn't be the end of her world.

The delicious aromas from corner food vendors made her stomach growl. She purposely did not eat anything this morning for fear of belching on stage more than nerves, but in her rush to catch the train, she’d left her travel mug of piping hot coffee on the kitchen counter.

That’s what I need. A good cup of coffee.

Ella bypassed the Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks and found her favorite old Italian deli. Unless you’ve stomped these grounds, you would never know they had the best pastrami on rye sandwiches, and the most amazing coffee in the world. Thankfully she was between the morning and lunch rush so the line wasn’t terrible. She observed young students and older business people sitting at the bistro tables which lined the brick walls, all taking advantage of the free wi-fi with their nose buried in their electronic devices. Shaking her head, she wondered if conversation was a dead tradition anymore.

After about a ten-minute wait she finally got her turn at the counter and felt increasingly frustrated when the girl didn’t seem to comprehend “black, no sugar.” After about a minute explaining to the nitwit to just take the coffee and pour it into the cup, Ella nearly blanched when they charged her $7 for the medium-sized brew, but bit her tongue instead and waited for her change. She'd be damned if the dumb bulb was getting $3 dollar tip and not know what black, no sugar meant!

It was as she was navigating through the small crush of people and nearly to the deli door when she got knocked on her ass and saw stars as she felt the burning brew dump on her new blouse.

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Sorry! Edited because I forgot to add my footer. whoops!

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