The Pretty Ones

by Jamie Lee Fry

  An anxious sensation sweeps through my body. I should feel relieved now that he is out of sight, but I feel panicky. My eyes begin to flutter and I’m shivering from the cold. I need this job, but I can feel my heart racing with terror and I’m a little freaked out right now. Gavin should understand. He’s the one who’s late. I take off running down the street toward the bus stop. I turn my head over my shoulder to make sure no one is behind me and my body slams hard up against something or someone.

  I’m afraid to look up, but then I hear a familiar voice.

  “Whoa, Charlie, where ya going?” Gavin says, concerned.

  “Oh my, Gavin, you scared the hell out of me. I didn’t know if you were still coming. It’s way after four. Where have you been?” I say.

  “Ya, sorry. Alarm didn’t go off,” Gavin admits. “Sorry, I should’ve called you.”

  You think? Geez. “I was getting a little freaked out,” I tell him. “A bum gave me a little scare, and I didn’t know if you were coming.”

  “Oh, the bums are harmless. You probably ran into Lester. He’s an old vet that hangs around our street. Surprised you haven’t seen him yet. He sleeps in the doorways until morning and then moves into the park during the day. He has his vices, but he’s completely harmless,” Gavin says.

  Before I know it, we’ve walked back to the store. Gavin unlocks the door and unarms the alarm.

  I cannot help but feel anxious still. I know everything is fine now, but I’m overwhelmed, and I want to go home. I know I should stay. I need the extra money. My parents pay for my off-campus apartment and most of my expenses, but I want to help contribute as much as I can. I don’t want them to worry about me. It was hard enough convincing them I would be OK on my own after what happened with Jenny. I want to prove to them I can be independent. If my parents knew I was working this much, they probably would ask me to quit and tell me they would send a bigger allowance, but I can’t ask that of them. I really don’t mind it here that much and it helps keep my mind busy.

  Gavin is buzzing around the shop, preparing to open any minute now. Since he was late, we are cutting it close. I can see Gavin’s mood changing. He was rushed and sympathetic earlier, but now he’s in bossy work mode and Gavin is not a morning person. I’ve never known Gavin to be late, but now I find myself wondering how often this happens. Gavin is in his late twenties. He started working at the Java Hut when he was in college. He never ended up graduating and found himself moving up the “java ladder” until he was the boss. I think he begrudged all the college kids that came through and moved on with their degrees at the end of each school year. Gavin probably was a more cheerful person when he was younger, but grew grumpier and more resentful as he aged. While he is doing his opening routine, I sneak over to the espresso machine and pretend I’m preparing it for the morning, but really, I’m pouring myself a shot. I gulp it down before Gavin notices. Gavin doesn’t drink coffee. How can you run a coffee shop and not drink coffee? I, on the other hand, have always used coffee like a lifeline. I probably drink too much. I couldn’t survive a day without it.

  The warm shot of espresso gives me the jolt I need, but I feel even more anxious now.

  “Charlie!” Gavin yells from the backroom.

  His voice startles me. I jump.

  “Those lazy college student friends of yours left you a mess again. Can you take out the trash before we open? We can’t have this garbage stacking up back here. What if OSHA comes today?”

  That was always his phrase: “What if OSHA comes today?”

  Yes, it is true, Occupational Safety and Health Administration could come today, but would they really?

  Nothing makes Gavin grumpier than the closing team leaving trash for the openers. I should be the grumpy one. I’m the one cleaning up after them.

  “It’s time to open. Can I just wait until eight when Anna comes in?” I ask. I really do not want to go back outside. I was out there all dang morning waiting for his grumpy ass.

  “No, it has to get done before opening,” Gavin says and he motions me away. He has rounded the corner before I can say another word.

  “Jerk.” I will just take my sweet time then, secretly willing a quicker sunrise, as I have never felt comfortable taking out the trash in the dark. I walk slowly, slugging my feet along the floor. I prop the backdoor open into the alley. I reach down to gather the trash piled up by the door and haul my first load outside. The entire alleyway is quite interesting. Murals line the entire backside of our buildings, attempting to create some magic in an ugly area. A giant red heart being gripped by a hand with three drops of blood dripping down is depicted behind the trash compactor. Odd choice but each artist was given free rein to do whatever they wanted.

  I toss one bag of trash over at a time. I go back for the last two I left in the doorway. One bag slips from my hand and it splits right down the side, with all the gooey contents spilling out over the pavement. I bend down to attempt to do my best to retrieve the trash and open the second bag to combine the two.

  Foul, stale booze invades the air. I examine the trash and the smell is not coming from the split bag.

  I hurry to finish my task. I have had enough of the outside this morning.

  The smell is closing in. Maybe it’s harmless Lester circling back around before heading into the park.

  “Lester, is that you?” I say cautiously.

  No response. Must be my imagination.

  I continue to gather the stinky trash contents and I hear a rustle from behind me. Not my imagination. Fuck.

  My body stiffens and fear takes over my entire being. I can’t move.

  “Gavin? Lester? Who’s there?” I ask, but not brave enough to actually turn my head and look.

  Please be a raccoon. Please be a raccoon.

  Another foul whiff creeps past me. The Odor of beer and cigarettes stings my nostrils. A figure creeps from behind the dumpster and is moving toward me. It’s not Lester or Gavin.

  Fear still paralyzing me, all I can do is let out a shriek. My mind is screaming to run, but my feet won’t budge.

  The figure doesn’t speak but continues in my direction. It reaches out toward me. I close my eyes. It’s all I can think to do.

  “Please go away,” I repeat to myself. “Please go away.” The figure is leaning over my body when I open my eyes. I shut them tight again. “Please go away.” Images of Jenny flash through my memories.

  I can’t seem to catch my breath. I suck in air but all I can do is push the breath out faster in a panic. My chest is thumping.

  My feet unlock below, releasing me, and I fall back onto the pavement. I scoot my entire body back against the bleeding-heart wall. My eyes remaining closed. “Go away.” Involuntarily, my body rocks against the mural. “Go away,” I cry out.

  I bravely open one eye and there is no one there. I close my eyes and shut them both tight as I coach myself through my panicky breathing. Breathe, Charlie, breathe. In, out.

  I deeply inhale and once again booze, urine, and cigarettes sting my nostrils. Another chill runs the length of my back and the hair on my arms stands erect.

  A hand taps my shoulder. I shuddered back further toward the wall. “no, no, no.” I scream.

  “Ma’am. You OK?” A raspy old voice shouts at me.

  I open my eyes. It’s Lester.

  How did he get here? Was he here the whole time? I know it wasn’t Lester that I just saw. I would’ve recognized these tattered clothes.

  “Hey, girl, what got you spooked? Ain’t no one here,” Lester asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  I say nothing, but stare blankly at him. I’m confused and frightened, but yet I know it wasn’t this man.

  Lester smiles a toothless grin at me and says, “Go on, git inside girl. Ain’t nothing here.” He points toward the open backdoor then reaches down to sift through my open trash bag.

  I get up and run inside and pull the heavy door securely shut behind me. I’m panting like a dog trying to control my breath.<
br />
  I let the entire weight of my body rest against the door, and I continue to catch my breath. Tears stream down my face.

  I hear Gavin around the corner. I pat my eyes to dry them quickly.

  “Geez, Charlie, what took ya so long. I was about to come looking for ya,” Gavin says as he catches me wiping my face. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks with very little concern.

  “I just got dizzy. I need to go home,” I lie to him. I don’t know how to really answer his question. I’m not sure what is wrong with me. I’ve been spooked since he was late this morning and I saw something I can’t explain in the darkness. I already ran into him like a crazy person this morning.

  Gavin walks over to the schedule and pulls it off the corkboard. He examines it and says, “Can you wait until Anna gets here at eight? I can’t cover the morning all by myself.” He frowns at me.

  “I guess so,” I say sadly.

  “Go wash your hands and get out to the floor. I’ve only had a couple customers so far, but it’s about to get busy. It’s almost five o’clock,” Gavin says.

  The bell on the door dings and chatter between two women fill the store. Gavin was right: it’s about to get busier. I pat my face dry and wash my hands. I fake a smile and walk up to the cash register.

  “Hi, welcome in. What can I get you this morning?” I say as cheerfully as I can.

  ***

  The next three hours are tiresome. Trying to attempt small talk and sound happy. Every time the door dings, I look up in fear that it’s the dark figure from out back. I’ve replayed the events over and over in my mind in between each customer. Maybe it was all in my head and it was just Lester being noisy. Whatever it was, it’s got my tummy in knots and the extra shots of espresso I snuck throughout the morning when Gavin went to the back have me more jittery than usual. The sun I desperately wanted all morning is now blinding me in the face as I pour drink after drink. The door dings again. This time, it’s Anna.

  “Hey girl.” Anna says as she walks cheerfully past the register and toward the backroom.

  I nod in her direction, but I don’t have the energy to say a word. I envy her in that moment. She doesn’t have the past I have and most certainly didn’t have the morning I had. She is oblivious to how cruel the world can be. I honestly hope she never has to experience what I’ve experienced in my short lifetime.

  7:59 and Anna is ready on the floor. I watch her clock in. I’m ready to bust out of here. Normally I work four until nine with my classes starting at nine thirty. I’ve already decided I’m skipping my classes today. I pull my apron off and walk over to Anna.

  “Gavin said I can go home early. I’m not feeling that well. I got a little dizzy this morning,” I tell her.

  “Oh, dang. Hangover?” Anna asks.

  “No, but I’m going to get out of here before you-know-who changes his mind,” I say as I point toward Gavin, who’s chatting with some of our regulars out in the lobby.

  “Oh, gotcha. Hope ya feel better,” Anna says.

  I sneak into the back, grab my things, and slip out the front door, unnoticed by Gavin.

  The bus stop is a straight shot down the street, and even though the sun is out now, I study my surroundings carefully before each step. I find myself looking into every doorway as I pass by and looking behind me often.

  A handful of people are waiting at the bus stop when I arrive. I lodge myself into the middle of the crowd. Safety in numbers, right? I pull a book out from my backpack. I always carry a book on my daily bus commutes; it keeps people from initiating small talk. It almost always works. Fingers crossed it works today. I should feel safe in the crowd, but I would rather not talk to anyone. I can’t escape my fear of the dark figure in the shadows.

  The bus pulls up and everyone piles in. I find an empty seat near the middle and keep my book open.

  My apartment is only a few blocks away, but it takes around ten minutes with the frequent stops and its roundabout route to cover all areas. At this moment, I wish that I had brought my car to school with me. My cute little green VW Beetle. We pull up to the next stop and I keep my face buried in the book. I hear feet scurry by, and more chatter fills the bus. A body stops directly next to me.

  “Is this seat taken?” A light, carefree voice asks.

  “No,” I respond coldly, without looking up.

  The girl sits down and her perfectly sculpted thigh rests against mine. I continue to ignore her and stare into my book. She fidgets in her seat and knocks my leg back and forth several times. I’m annoyed, but the movement stirs up an intoxicating scent. A huge change from the horrid smells of my morning. I can’t help but deeply inhale to gather more. A mix of lavender and rose immediately calms me. I can’t explain it, but I feel safe. Each time she moves even the slightest inch, the scent stirs up and lingers in the air. Is it her perfume or shampoo? I can’t tell.

  Her phone begins to ring and escalates with each trill. She jabs me in the side with her hip and she shimmies for her phone that’s tucked tightly in her front right pocket.

  “What do you want?” she shouts into the phone.

  I’m intrigued now. I pretend to read but really, I’m eavesdropping. I normally don’t allow myself to get sucked into other people’s drama, but for a second it breaks me from my own reality.

  She’s bickering with the person on the other end. I lean in to hear more, although I can’t quite make out what the other person is saying.

  The girl next to me is quiet for a moment and then shouts back, “It’s not my fault you left your clothes all over the floor, and then they ended up in the hallway.”

  She gives the caller a second to respond and then comes back with, “No, you’re such a slob, I can’t take living with you another minute.” She takes a deep breath and then proceeds, “And your dirty dishes, seriously. I saw things growing on a plate this morning. Our room is not your science experiment.”

  More from the other end, and then, “No, you’re the bitch.” She slams the phone shut and her body slumps down into her seat.

  Her movement is dramatic and over the top.

  I situate myself closer to the window to give her some space. The girl lets out a deep sigh and slouches further into the seat, sinking deeper with each breath she takes.

  Wow, this girl is dramatic, however, I’m slightly entertained by her. Normally, this kind of need for attention would annoy me, but I can’t help myself. She’s clearly wanting someone to ask her about her phone call. I know my morning was way worse than her little phone call, but I’m compelled to ask her about it.

  Never engage with people on the bus, Charlie. What are you doing? I almost regret the words as they leave my mouth. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to intrude, but is everything OK?”

  The girl in front of me turns around and gives me a dirty look. I’m sure she’s thinking, “Why are you playing into this drama queen’s need for attention?” Although, no one else seems to be phased by her, not even the cute guy across the aisle. Probably a frat guy who wouldn’t mind giving her a little attention in hopes for a phone number in return. Nothing. I’m shocked. Maybe this is normal behavior for her, and they’re used to it. After all, this isn’t my normal time for the bus.

  “Kind of you to ask,” she says.

  She peers up at me with the most beautiful ocean-blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I’m stunned by how pretty she is. She has a familiar smile.

  I give her a grin and she continues. “Uh, my roommate is horrible. Just the worst. I really can’t live with her anymore. An absolute slob, that’s what she is. She left dirty dishes all over our dorm room. I woke up this morning and found a bowl of half-eaten mac and cheese on the floor. I nearly stepped in it. Who does that?”

  Her arms flail around as she speaks—attempting to draw in more attention, I suspect.

  “Sounds awful,” I respond.

  I study the girl as she continues. Her blonde hair rested heavy on her chest with about five perfectly placed curls spread throughout.
Her face appears completely symmetrical with her lips glossed in a shimmery pink color. She is extremely pretty and very well put together for a college student from her extremely tight-fitting jeans and her champagne-pink sweater that appears to be cashmere all the way down to her UGG boots. Most people on the bus are wearing sneakers, sweats, and hoodies. I look down at my own attire and feel like a slob next to her. My work uniform of a white collared shirt and black pants doesn’t create much excitement.

  The girl jumps back into her story without skipping a beat. “She leaves piles of dirty clothes all over the floor. So ya know what I did this morning?”

  I shake my head and she proceeds.

  “I took them all, every single pile she left, and I tossed them out into the hall. Please don’t think I’m crazy, I just couldn’t take it anymore. She had to learn her lesson, ya know?”

  “I don’t have a roommate, so I guess I’m lucky,” I say, not sure how to respond to her, this intriguing creature sitting next to me.

  She rests her perfectly manicured hands down on her lap, giving them a break. I take notice of her Barbie pink nail polish that flawlessly coats each nail.

  “You don’t know how good you have it, girl,” she says as she stares back at me.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat, this time not sure how to continue the conversation. I sit awkwardly, turned toward her. Luckily, she jumps right back into her story.

  “So, after I toss all her stuff out, I marched down to the resident advisor’s room and demand she move me to a different room. But apparently there’s a long wait list. So now I’m screwed.”

  Her experience was typical for a freshman learning to live with complete strangers. A lot of my co-workers dished about their crazy roommates. One girl even peed on her roommate’s bed when she was drunk because her roommate stole her leftover pizza out of the fridge. I’m so happy I don’t have to deal with any of that kind of crap.