[Ed. note: republished with permission from Jasmine's blog.]
 

"You've both got your cellphones, right?" They nodded eagerly. "Good. I have to get back to my apartment to get my gear. Skinny, get us some transportation and meet me at my apartment."

Skinny nodded and turned into the crowd.

"Pretty, I need you to follow him. Keep your phone on. Do not lose him! We'll catch up to you as soon as we can."

Pretty lifted his right leg to step over the metal fence.

"Wait! First lift me up."

Pretty looked puzzled.

"Now, man, now!"

He grabbed her at the waist and lifted her as high as she could. Thanking providence yet again for her tiny frame, Jasmine crawled onto a stranger and began to run toward the end of the plaza. It's was difficult half running on people's shoulders and she took a great deal of care to keep her weight balanced on her toes, lest she hurt someone with her heels.

Soon she was on the ground again and running full speed toward her apartment. She kept her eyes open for taxis, but saw none that were not already full. Her frustration grew with every step. With every second, he's father away. Maybe it's not meant to be? A little too lost in thought for running in heels, she misstepped and broke a heel. With a tinge of regret she examined her broken shoe and her skinned knee.

For a moment, she despaired. Then she broke the other shoe and resolved to keep moving. A few minutes later, she was at her apartment. After her brisk fourteen block run, she no longer looked like the delicate flower of womanhood she did a few hours earlier. You can do this, Jazz. World speed record. Faster. Faster!

Too impatient for the elevator, she bounded up the stairs to her fifth floor apartment. After spending far more time that she'd have liked fumbling for her key, she was inside and shimmying out of her dress on the way to the bedroom closet. She grabbed the dress that looked most like the one she'd just removed and dashed to the bathroom. A washcloth, a towel, two hairbrushes, a lipstick, and a few other sundries began to fly about her head. She was moving so fast that an observer might have incorrectly assumed that all these items were moving on their own, when in fact it was just Jasmine doing her impression of a one-woman makeover pit crew.

Satisfied that she'd done all she could with the time she had, she slid into her dress and ran to the shoe room. She darted in, this time not even bothering to close the door. The remote was in her hand in a flash and again the mechanical racks resumed their frenzied dance. She chose the first pair of shoes she could live with and was on her way back to the bedroom. This time she grabbed a much larger bag. She tossed her tiny bag inside and then added her favorite tools. Her phone rang and she cursed her foolishness. She dug to the bottom of the bag to retrieve the chirping sliver of electronics.

Caller ID showed Skinny's number. "Skinny?"

"I'm outside. I've got a ride."

"Good girl. I'll be down in a minute."

Jasmine snapped the phone shut and headed for the door. Her bag over her shoulder and her shoes in her hand, she slammed the door and ran to the stairway. I hope there's nothing sharp on the stairs. I piece of glass will end all of this.

She made it to the bottom of the stairs with feet intact and sprinted for the front door. Skinny was directly in front of her building. To Jasmine's great consternation, she was seated atop a horse, with another horse next to it.

"Skinny?"

"I don't know what the hell is going on in this city, but there're no taxis anywhere in this damn borough!"

"Horses? This is the best you could come up with?"

"Mounted policemen. You have no idea what I had to promise them. You owe me BIG."

"But Skinny… I don't know how to ride a horse!"

"It's easy. You just work your thighs. You'll be a natural."

"Hey!"

"Close your mouth and get on. If I got these horses for nothing, you just might have to die."

Jasmine gulped noticeably and climbed on to the second horse. She fearfully dug her heels into the animal's sides. I'm going to kill myself.

[Ed. note: republished with permission from Jasmine's blog.]
 

Today
Jasmine rose before the sun. She was so excited she'd hardly slept at all. She stood in front of her closet and considered what to wear. Her fingers walked from one hanger to the next as judged, and found wanting, each outfit. Finally she settled on a slinky black dress. It wasn't as "wow" as she would have liked, but she thought that an understatement of class and elegance would have a better effect than some of her more revealing "fuck me" outfits.

Her dress selected, she then turned her attention to shoes. She walked down the hallway with a noticeable bounce in her step. Today will be the day. The Golden Mraz will be mine! She entered the shoe room and flipped a switch. Tastefully recessed lights illuminated several motorized racks, each holding several thousand pairs of shoes. Imelda Marcos was an amateur, she snickered. Every time she entered the shoe room, Jasmine thought the same thing. The simple joke still made her chuckle.

Jasmine closed the door, threw the deadbolt, and switched on the hallway warning light. There was no one else in the apartment, but Jasmine was always a big believer in her safety procedures. She sat on a delicate looking stool and reached for a remote control. She pressed a large red button and the racks all moved in unison, like soldiers snapping to attention. Jasmine began pressing buttons and the racks began to move, serving up shoe after shoe for her selection. She said nothing and did not change her expression, but continued to work the remote control. The racks accelerated until they were nearly a blur. An ordinary human could not possibly have seen every pair of shoe that whizzed past, but Jasmine was no ordinary human, at least not when it came to shoes.

Jasmine stopped pressing buttons and the machines froze in place. A pair of simple black pumps was raised on a small platform before her. Yes, these I think. She took the shoes with her left hand and pressed one last button with her right. The racks returned to their starting positions and were still. She closed down the shoe room and returned to the bedroom. She posed in front of a mirror and wondered if the Golden Mraz would appreciate how well the shoes complimented the dress. Probably not. Straight men never seem to understand that.

She then returned to the closet to select a purse. A stark contrast to her shoe room, her selection of hand bags was surprisingly small. She ran her hands over a few before choosing a silk bag, the size of which could only be described as "what the hell are you going to carry in that tiny thing?" Into this thimble-sized bag, Jasmine managed to fit her cell phone, a credit card, her ID, four twenty dollar bills, her apartment key, and a small mirror.

A quick glance at the clock confirmed that she was ready a few minutes earlier than expected. I'm ahead of schedule. That's a good sign. Once on the street, she hailed taxi for the trip to Rockefeller Center.
 

The cab ride was quicker than she expected. Jasmine was very hopeful until she saw the size of the crowd. Damn. I wasn't expecting this many people. This is going to make it a lot tougher to get close. She paid the cabbie and went to wait under the lamp post that the three of them had chosen the night before. Pretty and Skinny were both already waiting.

"Can you believe this crowd? I can't believe this many people showed up this early," Skinny grumbled.

"And did you notice that it's almost all women?" Pretty actually looked a bit nervous. "There's so much estrogen here I can actually feel my manhood slipping away."

Jasmine laughed. "Maybe you should hang on to your manhood while you still can."

"Wanna do it for me?" Pretty said with a grin.

"Umm… no. Come on. We'd better get started if we're going to make it to the front without hurting people." Jasmine frowned, preparing herself for what promised to be at least 40 minutes of elbowing.

"Maybe you should just show your boobs? People seem to lose the ability to think when you do that." Pretty was still grinning.

"No way. Have you been keeping track of how many times I've flashed my boobs this week? I seriously need to cut back."

Pretty failed to stifle his disappointment. "It was just a thought," he muttered. "We'd better get started then."

Skinny pushed up her sleeves. "Remember, it's all in how you use your elbows."
 

After nearly an hour of squeezing, pushing, and pleading, Jasmine and her companions were finally to the front of the crowd. They stood shoulder to shoulder against the metal fence that separated the crowd from the stage. They could just make out the top of Al Roker's head as he gave the weather report from the other side of the stage. Almost time! Jasmine could barely contain herself. Sound technicians were making last minute adjustments to nearly everything. Soon, very soon.

The technicians quickened their pace as they rushed to clear the stage of anything extraneous. Finally they scurried away and the crowd began to cheer. Jasmine looked everywhere, but couldn't yet see anything worth cheering.

Suddenly the square was bathed in amber light. As bright as the sun, the source of the light was moving toward the stage. There he is! The Golden Mraz! I must have him! Mraz took the stage to the roaring approval of the crowd. Matt Lauer was at the edge of her vision. He was holding a microphone and his lips were moving, but Jasmine heard nothing.

Lauer spoke for only a few seconds, but to Jasmine it felt like hours. Shut your cake hole, Buzz Cut! Let The Mraz do his thing! As if on command, Lauer lowered his microphone and moved to the edge of the square. Mraz stepped up to the microphone and the band began to play a new song, one Jasmine didn't know.

Curses! A new song. This is messing with my mojo! I can't put out my vibes right if I don't know the music. The song was pleasant enough. It might even end up a radio hit. But as she listened, Jasmine felt like she was dying inside. She was losing valuable time, and Mraz hadn't even noticed her yet.

Chin up, Jazz. The second song has to be "Remedy." It has to be. That's his most popular song. That's the reason everyone's here. Of course he'll play it. Jasmine closed her eyes and tried to refocus, trusting in fate that the second song would be one she knew. She was nearly meditating by the end of the first song. The music stopped and the crowd cheered. Eyes still closed tight, Jasmine could almost feel Matt Lauer moving back to the stage to make small talk with her Golden Mraz. She didn't even have him yet, and already she'd begun to think possessively. This almost brought a grin to her face and she had to struggle to maintain her serenity.

Completely unbidden, her subconscious dredged up Seinfeld. "Serenity now!" Jason Alexander yelled in her mind. She lost it then and began giggling. To hell with it. This will have to do, she thought. She opened her eyes to find Lauer again leaving the stage. She'd relaxed more than she'd thought. She thought only a few seconds had passed, but she'd actually spent the entire commercial break with her eyes closed. Mraz was lining up behind the microphone again. The crowd thundered as the band played the first few notes of Remedy.

Yes! This is all going to work out just fine. Jasmine heaved an impossibly large sigh of relief. And then she began to dance. At first she was considerably hampered by the crowd pressing her against the metal fence. But once she began to move, the crush seemed to ease as if by magic. Jasmine focused on the music and gently moved her hips in perfect time with the beat. Her eyes never left Mraz. As soon as he sees me, I'll have him.

A moment later it happened. Just as he was beginning the second chorus, Mraz saw her. He never looked away. He remained remarkably composed when faced with such an onslaught of feminine wiles, but Jasmine still heard a few notes out place. She continued to sway with the music, and her eyes remained locked on his. He's mine, I know it! It's working!

The song ended far too soon, but Jasmine was sure she'd had time enough to work the right amount of voodoo. Lauer again swooped on to the stage and stood right in Jasmine's line of sight. She lost eye contact with Mraz. No! I'm so close! Get out of the way, Lauer! No matter how much she willed him to move, he remained standing in the least convenient spot. After what seemed like a small eternity, the Today Show went to commercial and Lauer again scurried away. The musicians began to leave the stage, but Mraz stayed planted right where he was, again looking at Jasmine.

It worked! He digs me! Lauer didn't screw it up after all. Mraz walked to the front of the stage and gracefully climbed down. He was walking toward her. She shoots, she scores!! Jasmine thought triumphantly.

Out of nowhere came a man in an expensive but rumpled suit. He grabbed Mraz by the arm and began to drag him sideways. Jasmine could hear this suited man mumbling something about getting away from the crowd. Mraz feebly protested, never taking his eyes from Jasmine. Caught in her spell a little too much, he was unable to explain to the manager/agent type that he did not want to leave.

Immediately Jasmine shifted into crisis mode.

Pretty was giggling. "Did you see that? He was totally into you!"

"Shut up, Pretty. Pay attention," Jasmine barked. "I'm not letting that bastard steal him away from me."

[Ed. note: republished with permission from Jasmine's blog.]
 

Today
"Ouch! Dammit!" Jasmine curled her left leg to examine her skinned knee. Why did I have to wear heels today? she thought. If only I'd known how I'd be spending my day… She wiped away the grit and the droplets of blood. The troublesome shoe sat a few feet away, mocking her with its broken heel. With more than a little regret, she tore off the broken heel of the left shoe and then the unbroken heel of the right. Aww… these were Jimmy Choo! He better appreciate what I'm going through. She slid her feet into the worthless, but now semi-functional, shoes. Focus, Jazz. Forget about the shoes. Keep your mind on the prize. You've gone through too much to walk away empty handed.

Last night
This is hopeless. I'm burying myself. Jasmine brushed a stray hair out of her eyes and looked around her table. She was surrounded by books, some of them almost too heavy to lift. She'd rapidly grown to hate those books. She'd been in this library nearly every waking moment for the past week. Her eyes glazed over just a bit and she wondered what she was really doing here. Her heart was heavy with the weight of a question she should have answered three years ago. Is this what I really want? Passing the bar won't make these books go away. She sighed. Maybe I just need a break.

Just then her reverie was interrupted by the clicking of approaching heels. She turned in the direction of the sound and brightened immediately. Skinny was exactly the person she needed to lift her spirits.

"Jazz, I've been looking all over for you. How long have you been here?"

Jasmine merely mumbled an answer. She felt that speaking it out loud would only make it more depressing.

"Are you ready to pack it in for the night? I want to go out."

"Skinny, I really need to study. I'm not even close to being ready."

"Come on. It's so boring without you! You've still got plenty of time to study. One night off isn't going to hurt you."

Five minutes ago, Jasmine was desperate for someone to rescue her from this sea of books. Now that Skinny was trying to do that very thing, she was suddenly wondering if more studying might not be the best choice after all.

Jasmine thought for a moment and decided that a little Thursday night screensaver was exactly what she needed. She could cut loose a little and come back tomorrow completely refocused.

"Sure, what the hell?" she said. "What did you have in mind?"

"What else? Drinking, dancing, flirting. Pretty's going with us, too."

Jasmine grinned. "Sounds perfect. Let's go back to my apartment so I can change into something a little more fun."
 

An hour later Jasmine, Skinny, and Pretty were seated around a small table covered with half-full bottles and glasses. The music was pounding, a driving house beat that shook the air around them. Jasmine was staring at nothing while Pretty talked yet again about the crazy guy who lived outside his building. Skinny was listening only slightly more than Jasmine. Her attention was instead focused on a trio standing near the end of the bar.

"Pretty, do you see those people at the end of the bar?" she finally asked.

"I was trying to say something!" he muttered disappointedly.

"Don't be a prick. Do you see them?"

"I see lots of people. Which are you talking about?"

"Keep looking."

"Oh, my God! Is that Leo? Who's that with him? Is that Giselle?"

"Which one?"

"Giselle Bundchen, what do you mean 'which one?' "

"No, not 'which Giselle,' which person are you looking at?

"Well, I'm certainly not talking about the dork in the Pope hat."

"Pretty, I don't think that's a guy in a Pope hat. I think that's actually the Pope."

"The Pope parties with Leo? Who knew?"

"Should we go say hello?"

"Ugh, Skinny, are you kidding? I wouldn't be caught dead with those B-listers."

No one spoke for a moment. Finally Pretty said, "So, Jazz, are you going to Rockefeller tomorrow morning?"

Jasmine hadn't been paying attention, but perked up when she heard her name. "Huh? What? Sorry, I was in my own little world there."

"Rockefeller. Tomorrow. Are you going?"

"Umm, no? What's in Rockefeller tomorrow?"

"Where have you been, girl? Summer Concert Series. Jason Mraz is playing the Today Show tomorrow."

Pretty kept talking, but Jasmine could no longer hear him. Her mind was filled with the sound of a choir of angels singing Hosannas. After all this time the Golden Mraz would finally be within her grasp. The implications sent her reeling. The angelic voices sang ever louder, drowning out even her thoughts.

She called over her shoulder, "Hey! Do you mind? I'm trying to think over here."

The angels abruptly stopped singing. A few of them stared at Jasmine. "Well, if that's how you want it!" one of them said crossly. "C'mon guys, let's go get some drinks and tease the Pope." The angels shuffled away toward the end of the bar.

Skinny looked puzzled. "Jazz, what's the deal with those guys anyway?"

"They're always following me around. I swear they're just waiting for the wind to blow my skirt up. Perverts."

"So, Jasmine, the question stands. Are. you. go-ing. to. Rock-e-fell-er. to-mor-row?" Pretty asked impatiently.

"Are you kidding? Of course I'll be there. The Golden Mraz will be mine. Oh, yes! He will be mine."