Page 1 of Polly

Chapter 1

Flynn

“Thanks for spending the night with me,” Flynn said.

He stood from his makeshift bed of blankets on the floor. He ran his hands over his hair, then looked down at his slept-in clothes. Ah fuck. He tried to smooth out some wrinkles, to no avail.

Polly stood and stretched sleepily from the hotel bed. Her long, blond hair fell in a ruffled mess. But her jeans and t-shirt looked no worse for the wear after she’d slept in them.

“Anytime. You pick the best movies,” she said.

Polly smiled at him, then crossed the room to the hotel room’s kitchenette. She poured a packet of ground coffee into the room’s standard coffeemaker, started it, and disappeared into the bathroom. The door shut firmly behind her.

Flynn picked the covers up off the floor and tossed them on the bed. He pressed his glasses onto his nose — he only needed them for reading, but they were necessary or words fuzzed together. Then he found the room service menu on the nightstand by the phone and called its number to order them breakfast.

After he ordered, he sat at the room’s small table, shoved the empty pizza boxes from last night out of the way, and flipped through the local attractions pamphlet. Not that he’d have time to visit anything in that town; he was leaving in an hour.

Polly opened the bathroom door and stepped out. She had combed her hair and washed her face. Even without makeup, the woman looked beautiful. Flynn removed his glasses and tossed them on the table.

“We need to get breakfast,” she said.

“Ordered. Room service is on the way.”

She grinned and danced in place. “Awesome.”

She plopped onto the bed and turned on the TV. A random movie played. She cupped her hands behind her head and eyed the movie.

“Where’s your next stop on the tour?” he asked.

“Houston. Then Birmingham and up the east coast.”

Polly played bass and sometimes guitar in a successful punk rock band. Her heart always returned to her guitar.Her band, Lovely Oblivion, was currently mid-tour around the U.S.

Flynn played guitar for another popular band, Late Nyght Smoke.

Polly and Flynn’s paths crossed sometimes in the music industry, but they rarely found themselves in the same place. The friends only saw each other a few times a year, but made a point of getting together for adventures whenever they did.

“We’re touring up the west coast, then flying east later this summer,” he said. “Will you be in Boston?”

“We will. When are you going to be there?”

“August 24.”

Polly nodded. “Me too. See you then?”

“Absolutely.” Flynn smiled. “Wanna do another sleepover?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

A knock sounded at the door. Flynn stood and answered it.

The teen from room service stammered when he saw Flynn. “Mr. — Flynn — Breakfast.” He gestured at the cart.

Flynn grinned and slipped the teen a $100 tip. “Thanks, man.”

Flynn wheeled the cart into their room and shut the door in the star-struck teen’s face.

He steered the cart to the table and slid their meals into place. He also set out two mini bottles of syrup.

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