Free Fan Girl by Brandace Morrow Page A

purse. I toss the purse and umbrella to the bar in the kitchen on my way into the living room. I unbutton my red rain coat and throw it over the back of the couch, then plop down with my phone and open the text.
    RedyGo: Yo
    RedyGo: Yo I have 6 minutes, where you at?
    DirtyDozen: I just walked in, it's raining cats and dogs today
    RedyGo: In LA? You're shitting me
    Yes, we had graduated to me telling him that I live in a city of three million. I look out the window and down at my damp clothes.
    DirtyDozen: Not. I have the drenched hair to prove it along with the droopy face per my mascara. It fits me in a film noir sort of way
    Shit, why did I write that? He's never going to let it go!
    RedyGo: How so?
    DirtyDozen: Well I'm royally fucked and my life is over.
    I throw my arms across my brow dramatically and flop back on the couch . Way to be dramatic Ali.
    RedyGo: Wtf. What are you talking about??
    Maybe he will have to go to back to work.
    DirtyDozen: Nothing, aren’t your 6 minutes up?
    RedyGo: Don’t worry about me I’m multitasking, so tell me what's going on
    DirtyDozen: Nothing just that I had all these life plans and now everything’s changed. Don’t worry about it, you have work to do. I’ll figure it out.
    RedyGo: Tell me what's going on, I’ve never heard you talk like this... type. Whatever
    I sigh. I can't tell him, even though we've been best friends, if online only, for the past four years. We tell each other everything, at least I think we do. I tell him everything, anyway... well except my real name, where I work, stuff that can get me killed. Day to day stuff, sure. But no way can I tell him this. He'll find out eventually, but I can’t deal with another life decision today.
    DirtyDozen: Listen I'm a trust funded tattoo artist/concert enthusiast. I shouldn’t complain about anything. My life is pretty sweet. I’m just at a crossroads and took a different turn than was planned.
    RedyGo: Philosophical, interesting. Speaking of concerts are you going to Paris still for the RB concert?
    I smile, thinking of the only thing that could get me to smile today.
    DirtyDozen: Yup, in 8 weeks I will be eating a beignet drinking an espresso in a beret under the Eiffel Tower.
    RedyGo: Well there’s something to look forward to. Just focus on that. But not in a creepy way
    DirtyDozen: LOL yes sir.
    Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up, but it sounds good. I wait two minutes for him to reply. Which is not unusual if he's multitasking. I light some candles to try to get rid of the nausea that the thought of fried greasy dough brought on. That in itself should provide the perfect example of why my life is so fucked right now.
    I get up from my super comfy, plush ivory, suede couch swiping my leather biker jacket off the back. My spike heeled, black leather ankle boots click on the hardwood floors down the hall to my bedroom. I sit on the bench in my walk-in closet and step out of my shoes, then set them aside. Strip out of my vintage Beatles Abbey Road t-shirt and black Victoria Beckham skinny jeans. I put on a sports bra and roll down yoga pants, grabbing my mat from the corner.
    The only thing that will settle me down right now is yoga. Weird that I never stopped doing it. Four years and it’s a fundamental part of my day. Stacie gave it up after six months. I set up the mat, go back into the living room for the phone I left in my purse, put it in the dock, and lose my problems for the next hour.
    Afterward, I go into the bathroom, grab a hand towel and dab my forehead, catching my reflection in the wall of mirrors over the sink. Would I ever meet Redy? I wonder what he would think of me.
    My sleeve starts on my wrist with blue waves and ocean and seagulls catching fish. As it moves up my forearm, there is green land with dotted trees at my elbow. There’s a mountain on my lower bicep, with sky up the rest of my arm, to my shoulder, with more seagulls in the swirling clouds. Along with the back piece