Associates
7:18 am — Chicago, Illinois
In a high-rise luxury apartment building on the 40th floor, sunshine slowly glowed through the slits of the window. The walls were cream-colored, and the sheets were pale pink. Dark luscious hair splayed across the pillow of a woman whose eyes were covered with a black silk sleeping eye mask.
The phone on the nightstand lit up, and it started vibrating, the screen flashing a number whose caller I.D. was saved as "Mr. L". She reached for her phone and answered it without removing her mask. "Who's this?" she asked in a groggy voice.
"Good morning, doll," said the man from the other line.
Hearing the deep familiar voice, Lauretta abruptly sat up on her bed and removed her eye mask, a smile forming on her face as she ran her fingers through her smooth hair. "Hey, sailor."
The man scoffed. "I'm a marine, not a sailor, Lor."
"Whatever. It's the same to me. Finally. Here I was, starting to think you're ignoring me."