Creative Writing: Sweatshops
CHAPTER TEN
The following morning, I try on my tennis clothes. I glance in the bedroom mirror. Yuck. The skirt is too short, and the top fits snug. I grab my racket and swing. Not bad. At least, Michael knew which racket was right for me.
I sit on the bed to check my emails when I notice several texts. One if from Zack, the art director, who tells me that Simon’s driving him crazy. And that my office is ready, down the hall from his.
I reply. “Chill if possible. See you on Monday.”
The second text is a message from Graydon asking, “dinner on Saturday, 7pm?”
I put on my tennis shoes considering how to reply. By the time the shoe laces are tied, I rush down the stairs to meet Michael for my first tennis lesson. I’ll deal with Graydon’s text later.
About twenty minutes later, …show more content…
I’ll be in touch,” I say.
Back home, I open my laptop to find Michael’s website. In seconds, there it is. I click and see a recent photo of him, with his bio, with years of experience and employment history that includes The Sports Club.
The bottom of the page outlines levels of instruction available: beginner, intermediate and advanced and how to contact him. Along with testimonials from prior clients:
“I love Michael and so do my kids.” Amy, Pacific Palisades.
“Michael is amazing to work with. He’s the best of the best. He’s patient and a real professional.” Lindsay, Brentwood.
“You will learn, play and be competitive bar none.” Alan, Santa Monica.
“After not picking up a racket for ten years, a friend recommended Mike. His passion for tennis and his knowledge has reignited my love of the game.” Jill, Beverly Hills
Impressed by his rave reviews and that he teaches in upscale neighborhoods near Venice, I grab my iPhone and tell Siri: Remind me to call Michael on Wednesday.”
For an early dinner, I coerce my mom to join me for Happy Hour at The Golf & Racket Club. I doubt Graydon will be there, but just in case, I shower, put fresh makeup on and dress in a blue jersey
The following morning, I try on my tennis clothes. I glance in the bedroom mirror. Yuck. The skirt is too short, and the top fits snug. I grab my racket and swing. Not bad. At least, Michael knew which racket was right for me.
I sit on the bed to check my emails when I notice several texts. One if from Zack, the art director, who tells me that Simon’s driving him crazy. And that my office is ready, down the hall from his.
I reply. “Chill if possible. See you on Monday.”
The second text is a message from Graydon asking, “dinner on Saturday, 7pm?”
I put on my tennis shoes considering how to reply. By the time the shoe laces are tied, I rush down the stairs to meet Michael for my first tennis lesson. I’ll deal with Graydon’s text later.
About twenty minutes later, …show more content…
I’ll be in touch,” I say.
Back home, I open my laptop to find Michael’s website. In seconds, there it is. I click and see a recent photo of him, with his bio, with years of experience and employment history that includes The Sports Club.
The bottom of the page outlines levels of instruction available: beginner, intermediate and advanced and how to contact him. Along with testimonials from prior clients:
“I love Michael and so do my kids.” Amy, Pacific Palisades.
“Michael is amazing to work with. He’s the best of the best. He’s patient and a real professional.” Lindsay, Brentwood.
“You will learn, play and be competitive bar none.” Alan, Santa Monica.
“After not picking up a racket for ten years, a friend recommended Mike. His passion for tennis and his knowledge has reignited my love of the game.” Jill, Beverly Hills
Impressed by his rave reviews and that he teaches in upscale neighborhoods near Venice, I grab my iPhone and tell Siri: Remind me to call Michael on Wednesday.”
For an early dinner, I coerce my mom to join me for Happy Hour at The Golf & Racket Club. I doubt Graydon will be there, but just in case, I shower, put fresh makeup on and dress in a blue jersey