Hope Burns Eternal (free read)

Why did it always seem that Saturday night was the longest night of the week? L.A. is the entertainment capital of the world; and yet Hope couldn't suffer venturing into its mysterious clubs and nightspots, alone. Clubbing was second only to being set up on blind dates on her hate-o-meter. If "it" were meant to be, the right guy would come knocking. She scratched the silky hair behind the ears of her Yorkie, Noodle, as he curled in warm contentment on her lap.

"I'll go with you, silly. It's not supposed to be like a trip to the dentist," Hope's best friend Sally had teased during a coffee break from their job at Noah's Travel Agency. "Hollywood is only an hour's drive. We could take my V-dub."

The very thought of entering the daunting flow of traffic on the 405 freeway in Sally's ancient '67 Beetle sent a shudder down Hope's spine. Being divorced for two years and living in the valley of datelessness wasn't enough motivation to get her into that retro rattletrap.

"Guess it's just you and me, buddy," she sighed, sliding her hands under Noodle's rib cage, lifting him to nuzzle in a human-to-canine "Eskimo kiss". He squirmed as she set him down on the futon in her one room apartment. Leaping to the floor, he scuttled into the cardboard box he used as sleeping quarters ever since his mistress moved from their comfortable three bedroom tract home in the suburbs of pretty little Torrance into the dreary, but affordable confines of this apartment unit in crowded Belmont Shores.

Hope sighed and reached for the Woman's World magazine on the end table.

"Donk". The flat sound of what served as a doorbell prevented her from settling back into a good read. Squinting to peer through the peephole, she frowned. Only a grey smear of light reflected back at her. Whoever was on the other side was leaning so close; their form was made indistinct as a misty morning at sea with a storm brewing. "Who is it?" she queried, palms flat against the painted ivory of the wood.

"Land shark," came the sassy response from a surprisingly deep voice muffled by the wall separating them.

Hope shifted her weight from one hip to the other, waiting for further proffer of identification.

"It's Bryan…your neighbor."

She'd never met any Bryan, certainly not one with the alluring voice of a television announcer. "I don't know any Bryan," she called in mounting impatience; nose inches from the seam between door and jamb.

"Sally's brother, Bryan?"

Sudden recognition flooded her mind. Sally had said her brother was moving from London for a new job in L.A. No wonder she'd detected a tad of British lilt in his voice. He'd been living in England since Sally's parents had split when she was eight and he twelve. Sally had moved to America with dad and he'd stayed in, what was it…Soho? with "mum".

Hope slid the chain latch from its mooring and flung the door open. Bryan lurched upright in sudden embarrassment at being caught trying to look back at her through the peephole. "Pardon, Miss Hope, but Sally's asked me to stop by to assist you with your drippy faucet." He held a wrench in his hand like an identification badge.

Loose auburn curls swept across his head, an errant one flirting with the lake blue of his eyes. Hope stared, mouth agape in surprise at the handsome face greeting her. "Oh, sorry…come in." She held a welcoming arm in the direction of her bath. "The super never seems to get around to--"

"I know. Love. It's the same in London. Charge you the earth to let a flat and never seem to be available when something's amiss."

Ten minutes later, he emerged from under her sink smile splitting his face. "It shan't be giving you any more trouble." He drew his long legs under him and pushed to stand. "I'll leave this spanner with you to use in any future plumbing events." He held the wrench out to her.

"I couldn't…I wouldn't know what to do." She reached for the steel handle.

"Join me for dinner at that little Italian place two blocks along on Ocean Boulevard?"

Noodle sniffed at the cuff of his jeans and backed away with a friendly yip.

They both laughed.

"He's a good judge of character," Hope said accepting the wrench and bending to pat Noodle's head.

"What time shall I call for you?" Bryan asked, a roguishly endearing smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"Well, I've got to get cleaned up," she slid a remonstrative hand through the unruly tresses of her curly blonde hair.

"You look beauti--"

"Do you smell something?" She interrupted. They both turned to look toward the kitchenette. Thick black smoke billowed from the stovetop. "My grilled cheese! I forgot," Hope shrieked in alarm and chagrin.

Bryan bolted past her, lunging for the fry pan lid on the counter. By now the charred bread and cheese were aflame. He slammed the lid down to smother it. Hope leapt about in back of him as though the floor were hot.

"Oh my gosh! I could have burned the house down," she said in self-reprimand.

Lid in place, fire extinguished, Bryan turned to her, a smirk inducing his dimples to dance. "But you didn't. It's I who've distracted you." He grabbed a towel wedged behind the handle of the refrigerator and waved it at the now wailing smoke alarm.

Hope ran to crack the windows and open the door. "The neighbors are gonna sign a petition to rid themselves of the nuisance in apartment 3G."

"This neighbor fancies taking the 'nuisance' out for something more exciting than Welsh rarebit." Bryan approached, still holding the towel. The look on his face was pure self-effacing charm.

"Well… you did come a' knocking."

His raised a quizzical brow.

"Yes…I'd love to go to dinner with you." She chuckled in reflection. Hope burns eternal, prayers answered.