“Oh, and I’m Quinn by the way.” She reaches out her hand to shake mine.
“I’m Charlie.” I slowly extend my hand. She gives me a firm, strong handshake. I’m taken aback by her grip. I wasn’t expecting that. This girl exudes confidence and is everything I’m not.
“What dorm do you live in?” Quinn shifts the conversation to me. I’m unprepared for this. People don’t usually want to know about me.
“Um, I’m not in a dorm. I registered for classes late, and there was a waiting list for all the dorms, so my parents just found me an apartment about ten blocks from campus.”
I didn’t want to tell her all my parents could find with my last-minute change in schools was a two-bedroom apartment while she’s stuck in a tiny room with a horrible roomie and I’m over here living in a large space all to myself. I’m happy to have the private space to process what happened with Jenny.
“Well, this is my stop,” she says, interrupting my thoughts.
I reach into my backpack. I grab a scrap piece of paper and jot down my number. I hand it over to Quinn without even thinking about my actions.
“Here’s my number if you ever want to hang out and escape your roomie,” I say, and give her a kind smile.
Quinn gets up from her seat and shoves the paper in her pocket without even looking at it.
“Nice to meet you, Charlie. Thanks for your ear. I needed to get all that off my chest, although it doesn’t change the fact that I have to head back to see the slob now,” Quinn says.
She flips her hair back behind her shoulders and walks away. She turns back toward me and waves as she exits the bus.
***
The rest of the day, I thought about Quinn. She left an impression on me.
CHAPTER 08
Charlie
August 2012
Its bumper-to-bumper traffic when I arrive in Portland. I forgot to plan for the lunch-hour rush.
Waves of emotion seep into my being as I slowly make my way up the 405. I’m afraid to hear what Quinn will say about the night I don’t remember.
I need to know what caused her to leave.
What did I do that was so horrible?
Why didn’t she call me all summer?
The anger and sadness on her face as she left haunts me.
Will the truth be too painful to hear? I don’t think I’m ready for the truth.
So why am I here then?
A white SUV swerves in front of me, cutting me off and breaking my concentration. I slam on the brakes and swerve to change lanes for my exit.
So much dang traffic.
I’m cutting it close. It’s nearly noon. I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with Quinn. I’m already on thin ice.
Downtown is buzzing as always. Keep Portland Weird is painted on one of the buildings, which totally sums up this eclectic area. For a normally mostly rainy town, it is surprisingly sunny today. Not a cloud in sight.
The hustle and bustle of the busy city is giving me little hope of finding street parking near the bookstore. Especially during lunch hour. I yank my steering wheel to the left at the first sign of a parking garage. I drive through the first level with no luck and round my way up to the second. A little white Subaru Impreza is pulling out of a stall near an exit sign. I’m relieved to find a space as the time is slipping by. I’m going to be late. Quinn is going to be mad.
A gaggle of homeless characters are congregated in the corner of the lot near my exit. I manually lock my door from the inside, avoiding the other option of a loud beep from my key fob.
Don’t draw attention to yourself, Charlie.
Their backs remain turned away from me as I creep past them. The huddle breaks their stance once I’m almost past.
A tidal wave of cigarettes, urine, and whiskey opens up as the crowd breaks, hitting my nostrils hard with all three scents at once.
The familiarity stirs up an unwanted memory.
The day in the alley years ago.
Goosebumps run up and down my arms and legs.
I hold in my breath and run down the first flight of stairs. One of the crude characters follows behind me. I don’t turn around.
Charlie, you’re overreacting. This person isn’t going to harm you. Lester didn’t harm you.
But the other thing that day wanted to. I think.
A hoarse voice startles me. He’s right behind me. Scents of ashy cigarettes waft past me.
“Can you spare a dollar?” The hoarse voice hisses.
I ignore him and keep moving faster.
What is wrong with me? Just give him a damn dollar. He’s harmless. I’m being irrational right now.
My heart’s pounding in my chest, and tingles run down into my fingertips.
“I know you can spare a dollar,” he says and follows me down the next flight of stairs. “Come on now, little girl, I know you can afford it. Just give me a dollar.”
I don’t entertain him and keep my head down and finish the last level of stairs.
He stops to cough and catches his breath.
“Bitch,” he hollers at me as I exit the garage. He doesn’t follow me. Thank God.
I bend down to catch my breath. I’m breathing heavily. I close my eyes for only a brief moment and Jenny flashes across the backs of my eyelids.
No, not now.
I push my eyes shut so hard I feel my eyelashes brush against my cheeks. When I open them, everything is normal and Jenny is gone. Horns honking, traffic flowing, and people rushing by.
I push all the dark thoughts to the tiny little box in my mind. I wrap them back up. I suck in a couple of deep breaths and walk in the direction of the bookstore.
Today is about Quinn and me. Nothing else. Just us.
CHAPTER 09
Charlie
August 2012
I’m officially late.
Why are there so many entryways into this massive store? We didn’t pick a place to meet inside when we spoke yesterday.
We didn’t discuss much of anything, really.
I grab my phone and text Quinn.
I’m here. Where are you?
I wait a few minutes with no response.
I may as well get a head start on finding a book. Quinn’s normal impatience won’t allow me much time inside. I jolt up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Signs point me to the used-book level. I’m greeted by the distinctive smell of old musty paper. It fills the entire level. If I could bottle this smell up, I would. There is something to be said about a book that has lasted through time to be passed down repeatedly. One owner after another enjoying a story and escaping into a world that is not their own. I can’t help but feel instantly better.
A copy of Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile is staring me in the face. I reach for it and give it a hearty sniff, hoping no one is watching, but at the same time, how could they judge me? It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do with an old book. I ponder how many people have owned this novel that came out in 1937. I’m sure it’s a reprint, but I don’t dare look at the date. I don’t want to ruin the illusion. Either way, the curled edges and beat-up spine give evidence that it has had multiple owners.
I smile, feeling like my old self for just a second. A time before everything went wrong. A time when my life was simpler, and I was just a book nerd and Aunt Jenny was still here. I need this book. I hold it tight in my arms like my little security blanket and take it to the counter to purchase it.
While I’m at the register, I hear Quinn’s voice from behind me. I let the cashier ring me up, but my focus is all on Quinn. I watch over my shoulder. I finish paying for my book and step aside, keeping Quinn in my view.
She’s with a guy.
Of course, she is.
She’s probably been in here all of five minutes and manages to find someone to give her attention. She is in her usual flirty stance, with her left foot turned up and her right hand resting on his shoulder with her body pushed into his. A flirtatious laugh echoes from above.
I’m sure Quinn is enjoying the attention that she is getting right now. I knew she was an attention seeker from the first second I met her on the bus all those years ago. Nothing has changed, except her confidence grew more and more over time. Anytime she encounters someone attractive, she stops what she’s doing and ignores everyone around her, including me. She sucks up the attention like a little monster.
Our friendship is complicated.
The guy follows her down the steps like a little puppy dog. Quinn brushes past me, completely ignoring my presence. Another flirty high-pitch giggle comes from Quinn as the guy poses for a photo with her. I guarantee her phone is filled with pictures of forgettable men. She says goodbye to Mr. Random and finally turns her attention to me.
“There you are. I’ve been all over this place looking for you,” she says condescendingly as she struts back in my direction.
She looks perfect as always, dressed in a cute little faded denim romper and strappy fashion sandals. Silver bangle bracelets line her right arm. She’s perfectly tanned with no evidence of tan lines. Her full blonde hair bounces with each effortless step she takes.
How does she manage to be so perfect all the time?
Quinn studies me up and down as she approaches. I didn’t put much effort into getting ready this morning. Her right brow furrows, and her full lips turn into a disapproving pout. I can tell she’s not pleased with my appearance, but she doesn’t comment.
“Did you get my text?” I ask.
“No, sorry, didn’t see it,” Quinn says as she picks up her phone, stares at it, and then shrugs. “I see you got yourself a little book. Does that mean you’re ready to go?”
“Yah, I’m good to go,” I respond, holding my book tight against my chest.
The store is becoming increasingly busy, and people are bumping into us left and right.
“Gosh, watch where you’re going, dude,” Quinn says to a guy that walked right through the two of us. “Rude! Let’s get out of here,” and she waves me toward the exit.
We walk out a different exit than the one I came through. I’m a little turned around, gazing up at street signs to get my bearings. Quinn’s pace is faster than mine, as always. I’m constantly lagging behind her. I’ve always assumed it’s her long, toned legs. Quinn jogs nearly every morning, except on mornings when we partied the night before. I preferred the extra time in bed, but not Quinn. Quinn doesn’t like wasting the day. Carpe diem, she always says.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask Quinn while taking longer strides to keep up with her pace.
Quinn slows down as we approach a crosswalk. She shifts her entire body toward me and wraps me in her arms in a tight embrace and says, “First off, it’s nice to see you. I’ve missed you.” I can’t help but let my heart leap for joy, and a sense of relief fills my body.
“Quinn, I’ve missed you more than you can imagine,” I whisper into her ear as our embrace lingers. Her hair blows along my face and stirs up her lavender calmness that I’ve grown so used to.
The crosswalk beeps, and she pulls away from me and drags me across the street with her.
“Clearly, you’ve missed me too, and my clothes. Have you been dressing like that all summer?” Quinn asks, waving her hand the length of my body.
I turn my head down and frown. For a brief moment, our embrace was perfect and just what I needed. I crave those little moments. Now here she is; critical Quinn is back. She takes more pride in my looks than I do, and she knows that. Did she really expect me to keep up without her guidance? She should know better.
Quinn frowns back at me. “so you took everything I taught you and tossed it out the window the second I, um, left . . .” She hangs on the last word. She doesn’t want to continue. She’s not ready for that conversation just yet, and neither am I.
“So, the plan is?” I press her to proceed and ignore her question.
“So, I thought it would be fun to get a hotel downtown. There is a free concert and beer festival tomorrow I thought we could go to. Have a little bit of fun like old times,” Quinn says excitedly.
“Sure, that sounds nice. Although, I wish you would have told me what the plan was, so I could’ve packed accordingly. I didn’t know what you had in mind, so I just threw together a quick little overnight bag in case we ended up spending the night. I didn’t bring anything Quinn-approved,” I say with a slight laugh to lighten the mood.
“Charlie, your Converse sneakers and cut-off jean shorts will not do. I know you too well, so I brought a few extra things with me. You can change when we get to the hotel,” Quinn says in her usual condescending manner.
“Oh, I thought you just said everything is tomorrow,” I say, confused.
“It is, but we still have the entire day ahead of us, and you want to look a little nicer. Don’t you?” Quinn presses me.
Guiltily I say, “I guess I do, then.” A fake smile and a nod end her interrogation.
“Hey, let’s go grab our bags and meet back at the hotel. I’m sure they have a valet if you want to move your car. I will text you the address. It’s just a block away, I think,” Quinn says.
“OK. I think I will leave my car in the parking garage I’m currently in. It has overnight parking and probably costs the same, and I won’t have to tip the valet.”
“Whatever. See ya in a few.” She blows me a friendly kiss and disappears down the street.
CHAPTER 10
Charlie
October 2008
Last week I asked Gavin to move me to the afternoon shift. I lied and told him I joined a study group that my professor suggested to me, and it just so happened to start at eight in the morning. I couldn’t do the four till nine shift anymore; I didn’t want to quit but I couldn’t bear the quiet, dark mornings after what happened.
Luckily Anna was looking for more hours, so I suggested she take the four to noon shift and make it a full eight hours. She recently dropped one of her classes because she was failing to the point of no return and only had night classes left, so my plan worked perfectly. Gavin was hiring extra afternoon help, so I snuck into that shift and Gavin didn’t have to hire anyone. It was a win-win for everyone.
I clock out at 6 p.m. on the dot. I’m enjoying my new time slot and I get to work with people more my age. The assistant manager, Tony, is more fun than Gavin, and the other afternoon employees, James, Ella, and Matt work hard and mostly keep to themselves. We are all too busy to make small talk and the time flies by most days.
Matt likes to sneak a drag from his cigarette as often as possible, so he always volunteers to take out the trash. I haven’t had to go out back once in the whole first week of my new schedule. Not once. It’s been a huge relief. I haven’t seen Lester or the terrifying, unexplained dark figure since.
I grab my phone and backpack from my work locker and dash outside. The street is busy, and the weather is nice for October. College kids are hanging out, soaking up the warm weather, and enjoying their Friday night. Tomorrow is a home game for the football team. I haven’t been to one yet, but I do know this town gets nuts over football. Everyone is wearing black and gold and having a good time. All the restaurants and bars are packed, with the patio seating overflowing. Everyone is ready to party, and I’m ready to go home and relax. I suck at being a college student.
I make my way to the bus stop and pull my phone from my backpack. A missed phone call and voicemail appear. It’s an Oregon number. I wonder who that could be?
I dial my voicemail and I’m surprised by the voice on the other end.
“Hey, it’s Quinn from last week on the bus. Remember me? You gave me your number. So, here’s the deal: my roomie is driving me insane, and I need to escape my dorm room for the night. Wondering if you were free and wanted to hang out. You mentioned you lived alone. Maybe pizza, beer, and a movie night? Sorry, I just invited myself to your home. Well, anyway, call me back if you want to hang. Also, are you from Oregon? I noticed the prefix when I called you. I’m from Portland! Anyway, call m
e.” Quinn’s voice is light as she speaks, excited, cheery. Is this real? Maybe it’s a prank. Does the pretty girl from the bus actually want to hang out with me? I can’t debate this issue because I am in need of a human interaction from anyone at this point and if it’s a joke, I really have nothing to lose.
I click on her number and hit call before I chicken out. Quinn answers on the first ring. “Hello.”
“Hey, Quinn, this is Charlie. I got your voicemail.” I attempt to sound cool and casual, but I’m sure I’m coming off as desperate.
“Hey girl, didn’t know if you would call me back. Sorry for the long rambling message.” Quinn laughs. “So, wanna hang tonight?” she says, sounding confident I’m going to say yes.
I pipe up and raise my voice to match her tone. “ Yah, cool, what do you want to do?”
“Well, since you said you have a place all to yourself, I thought I could come over and we could chill and watch a movie. Maybe order a pizza and I can swing by the gas station and pick up some beer.”
Beer? She can’t be 21.
“Sounds like a plan,” I reply, attempting to sound cool. I don’t want her to second-guess calling me and figure me for a dull disappointment.
“What time works for you? The sooner the better for me. The slob is on a rampage, I’m about to lose my shit over here.” Quinn says with a light laugh.
“I’m heading home from work. Just waiting for the bus right now. I need a quick shower. You can let yourself in if I don’t answer. I will leave it unlocked for you. Just promise you’re not a serial killer.” I say and try to mimic her light, carefree laugh.
“OK, great! I will get the beer and then head over, and I promise I won’t pull a Norman Bates shower scene on ya! Text me your address.” Quinn is quick on her feet. I like that about her.
The Pretty Ones Page 4