From Riches to Rags (6 page)

“Okay, George, what should I do now?”

“Simply say you’re sorry and leave it at that.”

“Just say I’m sorry?” Another concept I had never considered.

“That’s right. Say you’re sorry, leave her a reasonable tip, nothing outlandish, and leave the restaurant and her behind.”

“I just leave? That’s seems really anticlimactic to me.”

“Sometimes, life needs to be anticlimactic; it’s good for the soul.”

I looked up and saw her walking my way, “She’s coming back, George, wish me luck.” Before he could, I hung up and put my phone on the table.

“You’re drink, Ms. Blackstone.” She said sternly. “Do you need anything else?”

“Yes, I need you to sit down here for a second, so we can talk.”

“I’m sorry, that’s against the restaurant’s policy.”

I gave her my saddest look and assured her that I would square it with her boss should he say anything. She shifted her feet, as if they were hurting, and then slid into the booth, sitting on the very edge of the seat.

“I can give you five minutes, Ms. Blackstone.”

“That’s all the time I need, Ms. Livingston. May I call you Chris? It’s such a pretty name.”

She nodded her head, indifferent to my attempt at being charming.

“Chris, I just wanted to say‒”

The owner of the restaurant chose that very moment to interrupt me.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, Ms. Blackstone?” He asked, glaring at Chris.

“The queen asked me to sit beside her.” Chris said with a slight edge in her tone.

Before he could blow a gasket I intercepted him, “Yes, I was asking Chris if she would like to work for me in my father’s hotel just down the street, but unfortunately she declined my offer. She seems to like working for you more, Mr. Kline.”

He gave me a big cheesy grin and then smiled at Chris, before he left us alone.

“I guess I should thank you, for saving my job this time.”

“I didn’t do it for the gratitude. Look, all I want to do is apologize to you for getting you fired at the other job. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

“I… I don’t know what to say, Ms. Blackstone‒”

“Please, call me Blackie.”

“Do you have any other choices?”

“Any other choices?”
What the hell?
“Okay, my real name is Melinda. You can call me that if you’d rather?”

“Yes, I’d prefer to call you Melinda. Thank you, Melinda, and I accept your apology.”

She rose to leave and I reached over and touched her arm. It was a soft, warm arm that tingled beneath my fingers.

“Please, can’t you stay a bit longer and chat? I’d love to know how you could live it up on a waitress’ salary.”

Although it was not intentional, I had insulted her, and the tiny bit of ground I had made with her, was washed away in a heartbeat.

“It’s really none of your business, Ms. Blackstone, but it was because I lived it up, as you like to do now, that I had to become a waitress. I had one too many drinks and lost everything. Now I’m forced wait on insufferable people like you in order to survive. Remember that the next time you bully a waitress, or crash your expensive car, remember that it can all be taken away from you in an instant. Oh, just forget it. I’ve accepted your apology, consider us even. Goodnight, Ms. Blackstone.”

Before I could say anything more, she left. I rubbed my thumb over my fingertips and felt her tingling skin against them.

Stark Realties ‒
Christine Livingston
and
Melinda Blackstone

To my surprise and gratitude, Melinda left me a regular tip. Not thousands of dollars to bribe me, just a ten dollar bill, which for having only ordered a drink, was unheard of, but still, she made the effort to restrain herself. I was probably too hard on her but the woman just kept pushing the wrong buttons. I think it’s because I was so like her once, throwing money around, bribing people to be my friend, drinking myself under the table, that I fear Melinda. When I look at her I see myself not too long ago, and that makes me afraid. That’s why I didn’t want to call her by her nickname. It represented everything I was trying to leave behind.

I dragged my weary feet out the door and across the street to the bus stop. I was so tired that it took me a moment to notice that the street light over the bench was out, and the darkness was becoming eerie. Thankfully there were still plenty of cars driving up and down the boulevard, so I felt relatively safe. Still, I couldn’t help but think that someone was watching me. I looked up and down the street, down into the alleyway, up to the dark windows of the dark buildings, and saw no one. I clutched my purse closer, slipping my hand inside to where the mace canister lay, and bolstered my courage by holding onto it for dear life. Welcome to my new reality.
God, I hate this! I hate being scared all the time and I hate being alone. For Christ’s sake, help me out here, please!
God has a wicked sense of humor, because although my prayer was answered, he sent Melinda to answer it.

“Need a lift?” She yelled over the roar of her Lamborghini, as it squealed to a stop in front of me.

“No, thank you, I’m waiting for the bus.”

“Oh come on, the bus won’t be through here for another half an hour, and I could have you back at your place, safely tucked in bed by that time.”

I knew the bus ran every fifteen minutes, but the thought of having to transfer twice more before reaching home, convinced me to take her up on her offer. Besides, I had never ridden in a Lamborghini before. I think she could tell I was waning, because she promised to stay on her side of the car.

I slid my weary bones into the softest leather seat imaginable and ran my hands over it again and again. Not even considering that my feet may smell from having been on them all day, I slipped my shoes off and embedded my toes into the deep plush carpet.
Oh, this is heaven!

She asked for my address, and I gave it to her without making eye contact. I didn’t want to see those gorgeous slate eyes of hers again, not in my weakened condition.

“I really appreciate‒” Without warning, my entire body yawned, so deeply that it took a few seconds to get it all out, “Oh, I’m sorry, I must not be used to that kind of frantic work.”

“It was pretty crazy in there tonight.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to go back to it tomorrow night.”

I think she chuckled, but my brain was so fuzzy that I couldn’t be sure.

*

I watched her more than I watched the road. Chris had fallen asleep in mid-sentence and I deliberately slowed the car down so I could watch her sleep. I reclined her seat and turned on the seat warmer and drove around the block fifteen times. I’m not sure why. I just knew that I didn’t want the magic to end. I didn’t want her to leave, knowing that I would probably never see her again. I didn’t want to be alone.

“What? Oh…”

“Did you have a nice nap, little lady?” I asked her, as she sat up, looking disoriented at first.

But then she looked at me somewhat embarrassed, and said, “I’m sorry. I guess I was more tired than I thought I was. I hope I didn’t snore, or drool or anything like that?”

“Not at all. You have the cutest snore, and the seats are leather, so a little drool won’t hurt them.” I teased her just a little, hoping she would appreciate my charm. She hadn’t notice it.

“I’ll pay for any damage‒”

“Chris, I was joking. You didn’t do any of those things, I promise.” She did twitch her nose as she slept, but I thought it best not to embarrass her more, with something I found intimately attractive.

“Oh, thanks.” She looked out the window and then over at me, “Where are we? I don’t recognize this neighborhood.”

“I sort of got lost, but I think this next street up will lead to your apartment.”
A little white lie for the greater good.

She looked at her watch and gasped, “How long have you been lost? You should have wakened me.”

She wasn’t being accusing, and I didn’t take it as such, but I couldn’t tell her the truth because I knew that it would only backfire on me.

“I didn’t want to wake you because I didn’t want to admit that I was lost.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad you could admit that, Ms. Blackstone.”

“Please, call me Melinda, like before.” I never really liked my first name, until Chris spoke it out loud.

“I guess it’s the least I could do for your kindness. Oh look, that’s my building over there.”

I pulled up in front of her apartment and we got out of the car. The street reeked of urine and I could see a drunk just outside the door, passed out cold. Then I looked up at the shabby, beleaguered building that looked like it could fall down at any minute. All the buildings on this street looked the same, old.

I exclaimed before I could bite it back, “Oh my God, did I do that? Did I put you in that squalor of an apartment building?”

“You are full of yourself, aren’t you, Melinda?”

That one stung, probably deservedly so.

“No, you did not put me in this squalor, as you called it. I put myself here and am thankful that I even have a roof over my head. So…” she tugged at her T-shirt and wiped her hands on her jeans, and then extended a hand out to me, “thank you again for the ride, and I’ll see you around sometime.”

It was the kiss off that I had been dreading, though I’m not a hundred percent sure I know why.

“I’d like to see you again… uh… too.”
Lame!
“I mean, I really want to know more about how you ended up here because it sounds to me like you’ve lived a different life before this. Am I right?”
Keep her talking, just keep her talking until she promises to see you again.

“It’s not a story I want to share. So, remember that we’re even now, your conscious is clear and you can get back to your life now.”

No, no, no! I want more!
“Yes, thank you for that. I’ll um, I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Good night.”

And with that, she walked up the five steps to the front door, bent over the bum and slipped a ten dollar bill into his hands, then walked inside.
Ten dollars?
Was that the ten spot that I left her as a tip?
Well shit.
I didn’t need a brick to hit me on the head to make it any clearer.

Chapter Five

Sleepless Nights ‒ Christine Livingston

“Blackie, I’m so glad to see you. Are you hungry?” My kitten greeted me at the door as I walked in. What a difference it made in my mood. Leaving Melinda on the doorstep made me feel unsettled somehow. But I will have to wonder why later. Right now all I want to do is feed the kitten and go to bed.
I’m exhausted.

I fed Blackie some tuna, and played with her for a little bit, and then I collapsed on the bed, shoes and all. I might have nodded off for a moment.
Damn it, what’s wrong with me?
I’ve asked that question before, and never actually found an answer to it.

“Was I so wrong?” I asked my kitten. “She’s trouble and has been from day one. Sure, she apologized to me, and sure, she gave me a lift home, but now she wants something for her good deeds… doesn’t she?”

Blackie meowed at me, and I smiled. “You don’t understand, Blackie. She wants to know what happened to me, and it’s just too painful to tell, especially to her. She would only laugh at my ignorance.”

I set the kitten down on the floor and got up to put fresh water in her dish with fresh water. It was a mindless activity so that I could distract myself. It didn’t work.

I was angry and I wasn’t sure why. It was probably because she had everything, and I had nothing. Blackie growled and at first I thought it was at me, and I apologized.

“You’re absolutely right, Blackie, she doesn’t have you.”

But I wasn’t really angry at Melinda, I was angry at myself. It was entirely my fault for getting in this predicament in the first place. And then it hit me. I slammed the door on any thought of friendship with Melinda, because she is who I was and I don’t want to go backwards again. I want to go forward. The only way we can be friends is if she sobers up and plays nice.
She was sober tonight…

Blackie continued to growl and that’s when I noticed a tiny mouse poking its head out of a new hole in the baseboard.
Damn it!
  I took some of the newspapers I used for Blackie’s litter box and stuff it into the hole. That won’t keep the rodent out for long, but I’ll ask the landlord later about plugging it up permanently.

“Who’s a good mouser? You deserve a treat for your bravery.” Blackie purred and flicked her tail as if she knew her actions had saved my life. I gave her a piece of tuna and she gobbled it down whole.

I flopped back down on the bed again, while Blackie inspected the hole in the wall. Then I got up and paced, and then I laid down and stared at the ceiling, and then...

*

Sleepless Nights —
Meg Bumgartner
and
Frankie Bonner

I had just finished jotting down my notes on the night’s transactions between Chris and Blackstone, and was taking one last look out the window at Chris’s apartment before I laid down for some shuteye, when I heard someone jiggle my door knob. I reached for my gun on the nightstand just as my wife walked in. It was six o’clock in the morning.

Frankie took one look at me and asked, “Oh honey, rough night?” She walked over to me and kissed me softly on the lips. I enjoyed the fire she left behind, before I answered her.

“You could say that. It was an all-nighter again. What are you doing here so early in the morning, not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Our bed was cold.”

“Oh, beautiful, I’m so sorry about that. I promise, as soon as this case is over with, I’ll make it up to you. We’ll finally be able to go on that honeymoon.”

“I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart. So what is it about this case that has you so fanatical?”

“You know, I’ve actually given that a lot of thought over the past few months, and I think it’s my irrational fear of ending up like she did.”