• The traffic outside could be heard; angry horns, car alarms, buses. Even from ten stories up, the noise was hard to ignore.

    “I’m guessing your mother already gave you the news,” my father’s voice cut through the air and finally I was back in his office, staring down and out of one of the large windows that made up two of the walls of the room. They were wide and clear giving me the ability to stare out at the mass city. I pursed my lips as I turned around in the chair.

    “Ah, that Becky is engaged to, none other, my ex-boyfriend?” Becky was my older sister. She also happened to be the girl whom the man I loved left me for. That was two years ago.

    “So she has told you!” he got up from behind his large, dark desk. Whatever wood it was made of was hidden by coats of black paint. Black paint. It suited the décor of the room- most of it was white and gray with the desk, chairs and shelves black. I believe my father needed to be introduced to other colors.

    I couldn’t help but sigh as I leaned back heavily in the chair. “She called me last night. She was so excited for her!” I smiled to myself, “And she also apologized for whom the groom shall be, but! Went back to telling me all about the proposal and ideas for the wedding.”

    “Did she tell you about the bridesmaids’ dresses?” my father asked with a smirk. Just from that small smile, I knew I wasn’t going to like it. “Orange. Orange dresses with big bows.”

    I believe my jaw dropped. “Orange?! No! Bows?! Big bows?!” He chuckled. “This isn’t funny, dad. I am so not wearing an orange dress and prancing down the aisle for my sister to marry some… some slime ball cheater boy.” I even crossed my arms to get my point across. My father’s clear blue eyes just watched me.

    He knew, and I knew I would wear a orange dress for my sister. No matter how much I disliked her. No matter how much I hated orange. She was my only sister whom I loved despite certain feelings. I sighed in defeat and closed my eyes, picturing myself in some tangerine orange color dress, walking down some petal traced aisle alone. Wonderful.

    “Okay, Khalen, enough about your sister and horrific orange dresses. We are here on business.” He moved over to a table near the door. Even the table had black tiles on its surface. He poured himself a steaming, hot cup of coffee. I declined.

    “Yes, yes. What does the company want now?” I crossed my legs and sat up straighter, appearing more business like.

    My father, John S. Archer, was one of the founders of a publishing company. A very successful publishing company. A publishing company that has now published two of my books. It’s been over a year and I was in need of a third book.

    “How is the third book coming along?” he carefully sat down in his large, plush roller chair, setting his coffee mug onto a napkin. I glanced at the mug. It was the one I bought him some years ago as a father’s day gift. There was a cartoon of an older gentleman hovering over a desk with a young child standing beside him. And, in a word bubble, the child is asking his father if he is done editing his story for school. The father, whom looks much in panic, replies “No! I’m only on page eight!”. For some reason, my dad loved that mug.

    He stared at me like I was just another client… Which, I am, in a way. But! I’ve seen this look for over twenty years, I didn’t let it get to me. “I’m working on it.” I smiled professionally at him. He didn’t buy it.

    “Khalen,” he sighed, “That’s what you answered last month. Do you know when your deadline is?” His blue eyes, which just a second ago held a demand now filled with concern. Damn.

    “Soon…” was all I replied, feeling the professional appearance slipping away.

    “Very soon. Have you at least come up with a title? A summary?” I kept silent. That is never a good sign. “What’s going on? You were doing so well. Those last two books were flying off the shelves.”

    “They were love stories. And, when I wrote them, I was in-”

    “In love.”

    “In love, yes. And now..” I shrugged, “And now I am not. I’m starting to lose my muse. Everyday seems to show me the same thing.”

    “Then change that. If you aren’t able to come through by the deadline, your contract is void.” That’s one thing that I loved about my dad. Not only was he a fabulous father, he was also a fabulous business man. He knew when to draw the line for business and personal. Even though I was flesh and blood, his little girl, he wasn’t going to treat me any differently in the work place. I worked for him in the business world, and I was treated like it. I liked that a lot.

    “I’ve tried to change it.”

    “Do or do not there is no-”

    “Try, no try. I know, I know.” I stood up from the chair and walked in quick, little, angry circles, hands on my hips. My heels made no sound on the carpet. “It’s just…” I went silent then started again, “I loved him, dad. I did. It was a fabulous time! I poured all that happy energy, all those warm feelings, all that love in the books. And now I go home to a dog whom barely listens to me. And sleep in a cold bed. And now I hear the man who I gave my heart to is marrying my sister. My sister! And orange dresses! And now the deadline! And I can’t think of a damn thing to start writing about…” I sat down heavily in the chair, eyes closed. “And I don’t know what to do.”

    “What was that thing?” his voice came softly from his desk.

    I opened one brown eye and peeked at him, “What thing?”

    “That thing you said at a Romance Novel conference. Something about you choose who’s allowed to break your heart.” I had both my eyes on him now, thinking. You choose…

    “Oh, yes. You choose who is worthy enough to break your heart…” I was quiet after saying this. My father was the one who broke the silence.

    “I know just what you need, Khallie.” He called me by the nickname he’s used for most of my life. I smiled slightly at this. “You need to change the scenery.”

    “I like where I live. The apartment is nice, quiet… and has a wonderful view of most of the tall, window plastered buildings of New York.” I smiled sarcastically.

    “I was meaning more of a vacation. A long holiday…” he seemed to think on this, picking up his mug and taking a sip of the liquid. “Yes, a holiday.”

    “That sounds great, a holiday. Only… one problem. The deadline is soon. Ah! And what am I suppose to do about Damien? Not to mention, where would I go?” I sat back, a victorious smile upon my lips, thinking I had squashed my father’s “holiday leave”.

    “Washington.”

    “I’d rather not go to Washington. D.C. Always seemed too…. Political for me. And the deadline and such matters which I stated before.”

    “Not Washington D.C. Washington the state. And you could take the dog. The deadline is easy to move if you show some improvement on your work.” He smiled back in the same victorious manner. I just stared.

    “Washington? That’s….” I blinked while trying to place it, “that’s all the way over there somewhere.” My hand pointed off in some direction. My father just smiled.

    “I know where Washington is. That’s where I met your mother… and where you two were born, if you didn’t remember.” I hadn’t remembered.

    “Ah. That’s why Washington.” I looked down at my lap. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

    “You’ll have until tomorrow to decide. If you choose not to go, I’ll need to see half your book on my desk in two weeks.” he turned back to his desk, scribbling something down on a calendar. Great.

    “Tomorrow. Half the book, two weeks?” I closed my eyes. “Is this meeting over?”

    “Yes. You are free to leave.” I was already standing and moving toward the door before he answered. “And, Khallie. I’m doing this because I think it is best for you. Changing the scenery may, in the long run, be good for you…” he was quiet for a moment before adding in, “And you never know what can happen on vacation. Go on, have some fun.”

    “Love you dad,” I walked out the door without giving much a reply to what he had said. I caught his “I love you, too” right as the door clicked closed.

    I leaned against the heavy wood and let out a long sigh, eyes shut. Two weeks I’ll need half the book done or I can go to Washington and get lost. What wonderful choices. Did I really have much of a choice? I’d ponder the thought on the walk home. Washington… It could be fun?