A series of short stories woven together by the theme of the turtle and the rabbit, and their search for love.
She had never felt more secure. There she was, sitting in an outrageous outfit, among unfamiliar faces, falling for a man who, to her, was a virtual stranger.
She had let her friends talk her into being set up with him three weeks ago. They had begun talking on the phone, and she thought she liked him, and she thought he liked her. They had agreed to meet at a masquerade party, where he said he’d come as Hugh Heffner, the famous Playboy icon, if she’d come as a sexy Playboy Bunny. She had agreed, and they’d plan to meet at the bar, where she hoped kismet would finally catch up to her.
She was nervous, and excited. She was ready to feel butterflies—when would they come? Even her friends had thought that he could be her “one,” and she’d started to believe them, and him … until now. She glanced around the room, the base of the music in sync with her heartbeat. There was a sea of bodies, undulating to the sound. There were people disguised in elaborate costumes, uninhibited by the secrets their masks hid. Among the bodies, however, there was no Mr. Playboy. He was already forty-five minutes late.
As if on cue, her cell phone buzzed—it was a text message. From him. It read: Friends forced me to some other party. Thought I could make it to you. Sorry! Rain check?
She pressed the delete key, sighed, and dropped her phone into her bag. She reached up for her glass, and saw it was empty. She decided to order more wine. Just one more, she thought—she may as well enjoy something of the night. She wasn’t going to berate herself for thinking that love would show up dressed for the night as a suave millionaire. It was what it was. She hailed the bartender, and asked for her bill. As she lifted the glass to her lips to take her final sip, she caught her reflection in it. Only then did she feel like a fool. She reached up to take the fake rabbit nosepiece from her face, when she heard a voice beside her.
“Please don’t do that just yet. You are the most adorable bunny I’ve ever seen,” he, a juvenile masked child superhero, said.
Feeling the effects of the wine now, she giggled sillyly at what he was wearing.
“And you’re supposed to be ...?” She said, her speech slightly slurred as she bordered the line of sobriety.
“Ah! I, mademoiselle, am a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle!” he said proudly.
This time she laughed out loud.
“You do know that this is an adult masquerade party?” she teased.
“Oh, don’t let the costume fool you—I’m all man underneath this hard shell!” he boasted jokingly, patting his plastic chiseled chest.
“From the looks of you, seems like you’re more of a big kid!” she joked back.
“Maybe. Sometimes.” She could hear the smile in his voice, even muffled behind his face mask. “Are you waiting for someone?” he added.
“Long story,” she mumbled and took a long sip of wine.
“Was it a guy? Because if it was, he better be either dead or in jail to not be here by your side right now.”
She smiled shyly, feeling the sincerity of his flattery.
“Do you mind if I sit?” he asked politely.
She shook her head and he adjusted his turtle shell to sit on the bar stool to her right. He only left a few short silent moments, before he inhaled a breath and turned to face her.
“So, not to sound like some kind of stalker or anything,” he laughed, nervously now, “but I’ve been sitting at this bar for the past hour, and I think you have some kind of magical bunny spell that only appears to work on turtles.”
