Who Should Play Me in My Movie?

Okay so it is definitely not the bestseller Fifty Shades, but after hearing that book was going to be made into a movie, I thought I’d post the first chapter of my new book: Note to Self: Change the Locks onto my blog and see who YOU think should play these characters when they pick up the movie rights to my book. 🙂  I was thinking Reese Witherspoon for Elizabeth and Russell Brand for Simon. (I’m just a bit partial to Russell Brand.) It may not be as kinky as the other book, but it’s a fun romantic comedy with a few sexy scenes for the more faint of heart. Check it out and post your thoughts. Oh and if you’d like to check out the rest of the book, it’s available on Amazon along with my first book, All She Ever Wanted.

http://www.amazon.com/Note-Self-Change-Heather-Balog/dp/1484802519/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1377106807&sr=8-1&keywords=note+to+self+change+the+locks

 

Note to Self: Change the Locks     

         My face dropped along with the blue terry cloth towel wrapped around my body, when I opened the door to find Simon staring back at me, backpack slung over his left shoulder. No, no, no! This can’t be! What in God’s name is he doing here? I caught the towel with my left hand before it completely fell to the floor and tried to pull it tightly across my body using only one hand.

            “Hello, love!” Simon chirped in his annoying British accent, eying me up and down, giving me the creeps..

            Using both hands, I cinched the towel as tight as it would go, practically cutting off my circulation. Damn it. Simon is not the Fed Ex man. Now just so you know, I don’t normally answer the door in a towel, but I was waiting for my new Espadrilles that I ordered from DSW. When the doorbell rang as I was getting out of the shower, I raced to answer it since I was sure it had to be the Fed Ex guy. Those damn shoes were supposed to be delivered yesterday and I’ve been waiting so patiently for them. I really needed them to come like, right now, since I planned my entire outfit around them for today’s interview.

Had I glanced in the peep hole and saw Simon standing there, I wouldn’t have opened the door in a million years. In fact, I probably would have climbed out the fire escape. “This is a really bad time, Simon. What do you want?”

            “Oh! Is there another bloke here, then?” Simon asked, craning his neck in order to peek into my apartment. Stepping out into the hallway, I pulled the door closed behind me.

            “No! There is not. Not that it’s any of your concern,” I replied crossing my arms. At least, Austin wasn’t here right this moment, but that wasn’t really any of Simon’s business, now was it?

            Simon leaned up against my door frame, trying to appear cool. “Ah, so no new chap? Still carrying a torch for old Simon, then, huh?” He flashed one of his cheesy grins my way. God, did his audacity ever end?

            “Listen, Simon. I’m really busy this morning. I have an interview at 11:00 and I thought you were the Fed Ex man with a package. So if you could just tell me why your English ass is on my doorstep and so I can bid you Cheerio, to borrow one of your expressions from your homeland.” I forced a tight smile.

            “Well, I was really hoping, you wouldn’t tell me to sod off, love. You see, I’ve been forced from my flat.” Simon drawled, leaning closer to my cleavage. “My, you smell delectable. New scent?”

            I frowned as I side stepped his wandering nose. “No. Same old scent.” And same old Simon. “Listen, Simon. I’m so sorry to hear that, but A, I don’t see how that’s my problem and B, we call them apartments here in the States.” So freaking annoying. He’s lived here for twenty years, but he still thinks the accent is charming and is going to get him his way. Simon was like those Italian guidos at the Jersey shore that liked to pretend they had been born in Venice or something. They would strut around town with their Italian horns and Italy tattoos pretending they’re born and bred in Italy when they’re actually from Bloomfield and probably haven’t ever been outside the tri-state area. Like my brothers.

“Alright then, my apartment. I was forced from my apartment.” He enunciated the word careful. It still sounded overly British. Why can’t he just talk like an American?

            Actually, come to think of it, at one point in time, I did find Simon’s Britishness (if that’s even a word), sexy and irresistible. It’s pretty much how he got me into bed in the first place. Well, it’s not going to work today.

          “And why, might I ask, were you forced from your apartment?” I enunciated every syllable hoping to piss him off. I could be a bitch if he was going to be a jerk.

           Simon cringed. “Well, I had a little bit of dickering with the landlord over the rent.”

           “By that, you mean you didn’t pay the rent?” Simon was completely irresponsible with money. His parents had been well off, but they never seemed to teach him the value of money. He threw it away on toys and frivolous endeavors without budgeting for essentials of daily living. It was another one of his many grating habits.

           “Well, it was kind of hard. You see, I got sacked.”

           “Shocker that is,” I remarked with a smirk. Simon was a very smart guy; his IQ was off the charts. But he absolutely refused to apply himself and I’m pretty sure he had an adult version of ADHD because he couldn’t seem to stay in any job for more than a few months. He changed his college major twice and then didn’t even graduate. He told me that it had “bored” him. With a big, fat trust account after his father died, he didn’t feel the need to ever be serious about a career or even just a steady income.

“Please, Lizzie? I can’t get an apartment on a moment’s notice. The waiting lists are eons long and I have nowhere else to go. Mum’s in a home now. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” Simon’s face fell and his dark gray eyes grew wide and moist. Oh, shit. Not the puppy dog face. Simon, put the puppy dog face away! That infuriating man knew I could not resist the puppy dog face.

I closed my eyes to shut out his pathetic face. “Don’t call me Lizzie. You know I hate that. What about Jake? Why can’t you stay with Jake?” Jake was Simon’s successful and talented screenplay writing brother, whose home was literally three blocks from my apartment. Except, I still lived in the crap part of town and he was living in a mansion penthouse.

“Oh, Jake’s being an arse.” The way he said arse gave me goose-bumps. Darn accent again. Stop it now, Elizabeth. Do not let him get to you. “Something about not wanting company there when they’re doing construction. Mary Ellen is having a baby, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know,” I remarked dryly. He was so dense. Did he really think I kept in touch with his family after our breakup? I always found the whole bunch to be rather pretentious and I had been overjoyed to purge myself of all of them in the process of breaking up with Simon. It had been one of the perks of our relationship ending.

“Oh, well. She is. Due in May. Going to be a girl. They’re doing the nursery in Mother Goose or some other nonsense like that.”

Exasperated, I sighed. “Listen, Simon. I’d love to chat and catch up with the last two years of your life, but I’ve really got to go.” I reached for the doorknob as I spoke. “Why don’t you friend request me on Facebook or something and we can be regular old chums,” I remarked with sarcasm.

“That’s quite naff. Leave me out in the cold,” Simon pouted.

“It’s April, Simon. You’ll be fine. Go find a refrigerator box or something.” I turned the doorknob. It wouldn’t turn. What the hell? I gripped it tighter and tried again. It stuck sometimes in the humidity.

As hard as I turned, the door wouldn’t budge. Oh sweet Jesus, please tell me I am not locked out! In the hallway. In a towel. With Simon. When I have an interview uptown in less than an hour.

Simon chuckled behind me as I tugged futilely at the door. “A bit of a pickle, eh?” His voice was full of amusement.

“It’s not funny, Simon,” I growled through gritted teeth. “I really need this job. I can’t be late for the interview.” Tears burnt my eyes. You cannot cry in front of Simon. I pulled at the door harder to no avail. I tensed as Simon inched so close to me that I could feel him breathing on my neck. What a creep!

“Ah, what happened to your job, then, Lizzie?”

“My job is none of your beeswax,” I retorted as I jiggled the handle futilely. Son of Sam, why the hell won’t this open? I don’t remember locking it from the inside.

“Oh, so you don’t have a job either? And you were criticizing me?” Simon chuckled. “You want to be the pot or the kettle then?”

I inhaled sharply as I turned around, facing his pointy chin. “Good day, Simon,” I told him, curtly nodding before marching off barefoot to the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

“Where are you going?” Simon called after me.

“Getting the Super to open my apartment door,” I called as I punched the button to summons the elevator. This was going to be one embarrassing visit to the Super’s apartment. Perhaps even more embarrassing than the time I tried a new sushi restaurant with Nora and we both had explosive diarrhea which clogged up my toilet.

“Oh, well that seems rather mortifying,” Simon commented with a chuckle. Really, Simon? You don’t say. I focused on the green glowing numbers lighting up on the top of the elevator door. Why was this damn thing so slow today? “So you need a key, eh?” I heard Simon ask.

“Yes, Simon. Keys usually open doors,” I replied sarcastically while refocused my gaze and stared down at my feet. I could see that my toenail polish was flaking off. Great. Now I have to wear boots and it’s hot. I can’t even wear the open toed shoes if I wanted to.  I’ll never get the job like that. Ugh, I’ve got to rethink my outfit, now. My mind was reeling as the clock ticked down.

“Oh a key like this one?” Simon called just as the elevator doors opened. My upstairs neighbor, Mrs. McIntyre was inside the elevator, gawking at me, her mouth hanging open. She clutched her purse and her stupid toy poodle, Cupcake, close to her body like I was some sort of animal snatcher. Haven’t you ever seen anyone waiting for an elevator in a towel, lady? I spun around to see Simon dangling a key in the air. My key. On my Mets lanyard that I had given him. Son of a bitch! He never gave me my key back!

The elevator door closed with Mrs. McIntyre and Cupcake safely behind it as I stormed over and attempted to snatch my key from Simon’s hand. He was shorter than average, a fact he absolutely hated, but he was still taller than I was and able to dangle the key well out of my reach. Holding on to the towel, I tried to jump for it, lost my balance and my body covering in the process. Quickly, I snatched up the towel and held it to my bare body. Simon laughed with delight as he tossed the key on top of the pile of junk my neighbor kept outside his door, despite the association regulation forbidding use of hall space for personal storage. Every weekend, Mr. Jackson attempted to clean out his apartment, dragging furniture and boxes into the common hallway, and every weekend, the poor dear became so overwhelmed by the process of cleaning his horde that he would quit halfway through. I didn’t have the heart to report him and his mess even though the pile of rubble was slowly creeping towards my own door.

“Come on, Simon! That was a real shit thing to do!” I dragged a chair to the edge of the pile. Thankfully, Mr. Jackson had attempted cleaning his dining room this past weekend and his entire set of dining room chairs was up against the wall. I climbed onto the chair, trying to grab my key. Simon sidled up next to me and gazed upwards. I stared down at him and tucked the towel between my legs. “Are you serious right now?”

A broad grin erupted on his well chiseled face. Damn, I forgot what nice cheekbones he has. But he does look like he’s put on weight. That thought satisfied me for some perverse reason. “I don’t think you can reach the top of that pile, love.”

“I can too,” I replied, puffing out my chest. I can’t reach the top of this pile. Damn my parents and their genes. Short, fat people should not be allowed to procreate together! The result is even shorter sausage-like children.

Simon casually leaned against my door frame once more. “I can help you out there, Lizzie. In exchange for one teensy little favor.” A sly smile spread across Simon’s lips.

“Don’t call me Lizzie,” I growled. I was stuck. Damn it. I needed his help. I sighed as I tightened my towel for the umpteenth time and ran my free hand through my now dry hair. “What do you want?”

Simon pushed off the door frame. “Oh you know what I want.”

I sucked in my breath. “You can’t live with me, Simon. It’s just not possible. I’m sorry.”

Pouting and throwing the puppy dog eyes my way, Simon inquired, “How about just for a few days? Till I can find a new flat? I promise I won’t be a bugger.”

I cringed at the word, flat, once again. Flats were shoes, damn it, not apartments. Just listening to him butcher the English language gave me the feeling of nails on the chalkboard. Sighing, I explained, “It’s not that I think you’re going to be a bugger.” I actually know that you will be a huge pain in my ass. “I’m sort of seeing someone right now. And I don’t think he would appreciate coming home from his business trip to find you living in my apartment.” Especially since I never even let him spend the night, I reminded myself.

Simon’s face clouded slightly. But then he triumphantly remarked, “Ah! So there is someone else!”

Sighing, I nodded my head. “Yes. And it’s, um, serious. I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

Simon nodded with comprehension. “No, no, I understand. I don’t want to get in your way.”

I smiled gratefully. “Thank you. Can I have my key now?”

Simon continued to smile. “No. I don’t think so. Why don’t you get your boyfriend to bring you the key?”

Oh my God he was so exasperating! Just when I think I’m making headway with the pompous prick!

“First of all, Austin is out of town on business, as I mentioned before. And secondly, he doesn’t have a key to my apartment.” The words escaped my mouth before I could stop myself.

“Ah, so not as serious as you led me to believe, my dear,” Simon said with a grin. He had me there. Austin and I had been seeing each other for almost a year. He was a very talented baseball player, who was currently playing Triple A ball. After being drafted right out of college, he spent a few years in Triple A where he batted .470 and played a mean center field. He was called up to the majors two years ago, before we met. A hamstring injury in his first month in the majors sidelined him for several weeks and he ended up being sent back down after rehab. We met at a bar shortly after he got sent down. He was out drinking with some of the other guys on the team. Even though I wasn’t a fan of his team, (cough, cough, Yankees) I recognized one of his teammates and as a lover of baseball in general, I was completely tongue tied. Nora dared me to go up and talk to them. She bet me the next month’s rent that I wouldn’t do it. I lost my job a few weeks before, along with whatever dignity I had left so I took the shot of whatever the hell the bartender put in front of me and waltzed over to the guys. And got the heel of my boot stuck in the floorboards. And proceeded to fall flat on my face in front of them.

Austin’s friends thought it was hilarious and mocked me, including the ball player I had worshipped up until that moment. But Austin was sweet and helped me to my feet. While his friends moved on to picking up a group girls who couldn’t even be out of high school, Austin and I sat alone at the bar and lamented about our recent career changes. We knocked back shot after shot and I guess I was drunk enough to go home with him that night; something I don’t normally do, but he had been a major league baseball player, after all. I was mortified when I woke up the next morning, naked in his bedroom. I was certain he was going to kick me out when he sobered up, telling me how much he regretted it. Instead, he asked me to spend the day with him, just hanging out, talking. And of course, sex, too.

 He was a lot of fun and we hit it off outside the bedroom, so we’ve been dating ever since. I’m pretty sure it’s exclusive, but I never really asked. I don’t want to pressure him into anything else right now. I have a feeling he’s frustrated with where his life is taking him professionally and he isn’t going to be able to commit to our relationship just yet. I mean, neither of us even said “I love you”. I didn’t want to seem needy and all that. It’s usually the first mistake I make. And I’m a little out of practice. Did I mention I haven’t dated anyone since my breakup with Simon?

So I didn’t really know if it was serious or not, but I wanted Simon to think it was. And also that my very jealous boyfriend would beat him up if he found him at my apartment.

“It is serious. He just doesn’t have key because he’s out of town so much. He’s a baseball player,” I stressed importantly.

“Just dandy,” Simon remarked. “So if he’s out of town a lot, he won’t mind me staying here, then. It’s not like I will be in his way or anything.”

He had me there. Still, it reeked of a rotten idea.

“Come on, Lizzie. For old time’s sake?” Simon was practically on his knees.

“For old time’s sake is exactly why I don’t want you staying here, Simon. If you’ll remember…”

“I swear to Christ I’ve changed, Lizzie. I promise I won’t be the wanker I was back then. Please? You won’t even know I’m about.” He gazed into my eyes as he pleaded. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I mean, it’s only for a few days and even though he’s a real jerk face, I can be gracious and try to forget the past. I mean, it’s not like what he did could ever hurt me again, right?

I sighed audibly. I can’t believe I’m going to do this. Sure I was going to regret this for as long as I lived, I opened my mouth and said, “Ok, Simon. But only for a few days.” Simon beamed as he bounded to the top of the chair like a drunk leprechaun and retrieved my key. I poked his chest with my finger. “And you stay on the couch. You don’t dare come near my bedroom.”

Simon winked, “Are you playing hard to get?”

I shoved him harder. “I’m dead serious, Simon. Stay on the couch and out of my way. You said I wouldn’t even know you were there? Well, make that happen.”

“Of course, of course. I wouldn’t dream of making this difficult for you.” He unlocked the door for me and stepped aside as I entered my apartment first.

“Ladies first.”

“Gee, thanks. It is my apartment.”

Frowning, I stepped inside onto the plush carpet. And then, my ex-husband walked in right behind me. Back into my life again.

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