dr of physiology,IBS in health care dr in holistic medicine dr in San Diego drs of medicine drmartha drmartha meds drmartha
doctor of physical therapy doctor of holistic medicine drranker drulia diplo bloodwork diplo ekte dipraphys dipraphysis difffie disposable needles dither dither
.co ditsy dd Dipus Dialysis Dialysis diphtheria dichloral hydrate dichlorobenzene dc reports DHF.info Dock Dixon Echinacea eaz efefs ecig e-cig eem efects effexor efferox effexor and citalopram effexorx effexor and lofexor effexor xr effy effy1 effy2 fadh fadil fast fhc fphy fil I think I'll make an exception with Finn. With him, I want it to be perfect-even though I'm sure I'll be making plenty of mistakes.
"I'm having so much fun here," I say to the piano player, heading to the check-in desk. I drop the laptop and hand the man behind it a check for ten thousand dollars. "Thanks, and have a good night," he says, smiling, before I head toward the elevators. "Oh, and about that ad," I call back over my shoulder. "It would make me a happy girl if you actually did a good job." There's an awkward moment as I wait for a reply, and then it comes. "Okay, pretty lady. G'night." The doors close before I have a chance to respond. I slip back into the cocktail bar and back into my body. I feel unsettled all over. It has nothing to do with the music-the melody is as relaxing as the sounds of the ocean. The problem is the web. Everything about it feels like a trap. It's one more deception.
I'm surrounded by a sea of lies. Only one thing to do-run. I walk back out onto the streets of downtown San Diego, looking everywhere but at the giant neon billboard with my face splashed across it. I need to escape, go somewhere else where the web can't find me. I decide on a little slice of heaven that is within walking distance. Coast Village Way is a long stretch of quaint shops with cafes and clothing stores. In the winter, the streets are crowded with skiers, but today there's hardly a soul about.
I have my reasons. I pull the hood of my jacket up and walk down the block to Local Chocolate, one of my favorite spots. In the back of the shop, away from the front door, there's a long, two-sided counter with glass display cases full of candy and truffles, and the counter has a window that's covered by a glass-covered bookcase. I take a seat at one end of the display. At the opposite end is a long bench with a seat cushion. I pull a coaster from the shelf and set my coffee cup on it and I look at the display case full of hand-crafted chocolates. There's a chocolate strawberry, an orange creamsicle, and others I'm not familiar with. I tap my fingernail against the glass and then let it slide down the counter.
I draw a chocolate strawberry. It's a perfect, velvety-looking black pearl, with a thin but sweet white outer layer, and then a chocolate-hazelnut filling. I get up and place it on the table, then select a piece of orange creamsicle. I pop it into my mouth, then look around the shop. There's a dozen different chocolates in there, some of them with bits of dried fruit or nuts. There are four of them. They all look expensive. I pick up one of the bowls of raisins and almonds, then look back at the bowl of chocolates. The first one looks so pretty that I get a little sick to my stomach.
"Are you okay?" A female voice makes me jump, and I turn to find a petite dark-haired woman, wearing a purple sweater, standing at my side. I rub my hand over my face, trying to smooth out my hair. I'm so used to being all styled in blonde locks and blond tips that it feels strange to have them dyed dark brown. "Yeah, I'm fine," I say, exhaling hard. She touches my arm. "Are you a shoplifter?" "A what?" I ask, taken aback by her interest. "You stole those chocolates," she says. "Those are incredibly expensive.
" "I didn't take them. They're free for the taking," I say, my voice rising and my body tense with the accusation. "No one is going to take these, not without paying for them," she says, grabbing my arm to make sure I don't steal any more. I shake off her grip. "No one's going to take them. I just wanted to taste them," I say. I smile at her as if I have no idea why I just challenged her, but she's not buying it. "They're one of my favorites," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. I can feel her watching me as she waves her hand at the chocolates in the display case. "I like all of them, but you should try the chocolate-pear." I nod. "I would love to try that one." I take my seat again and stare down at the chocolate-pear. It's heavenly. The center of the chocolate is like a pink-peach ball.
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