The news of Deven's baby hit the magazines the morning after. Nick tried to hide them from me, but he didn't account for my trip to the store. I stood at the rack with my basket and just stared. A couple of teenage girls snaked their way around me and grabbed at copies.
"OMG," the shorter of the two gasped. "Deven Santos's and Harry Styles' baby is so cute!" She clutched the copy of People to her chest as though it were going to disappear. The taller one sighed dreamily at her own copy.
"Why couldn't it be me?" she asked. They walked off, still swooning. Funny though, her and I had been thinking the same thing. I moved into the express line and tried to focus on anything but the magazines glaring me in the face. The cashier that rang up my Yoo-Hoo, package of Mr. Goodbar minis and Junior Mints had a fake smile and unnaturally white hair and a ring through her septum.
"You look familiar," she said as she handed me the change. I adjusted the sunglasses. "Have we met?" Her smile became natural and I noticed how pretty she was.
"Maybe somewhere in my dreams," I replied, smiling back at her. I lifted the sunglasses and winked. Recognition clicked in her eyes. I put my finger over my lips and made a shushing signal, putting the glasses back over my eyes. I gathered my bag and walked out the door.
I silently chuckle at what she had said to me as she took my payment once I walk in my house, checking how much it cost and truly laugh at what is written on the bottom of it; obviously the cashier's name is Persephone and she wrote her number down, making note of the time she gets out of work tonight.
I quickly take my bag into my room and hop online to research her by the digits she put on my receipt. I find out that her dad left before she was a year old, her mom is the Greek history and Mythology professor at UCLA, she has a step dad, two younger brothers, she has a twin brother, she's twenty, in her second to last semester before she graduates from Berkeley with masters in high school education, biology and anatomy & physiology and she just turned twenty a couple months earlier. "Persephone. Now I read your medical records and police reports," I announce, under my breath. I click the link for her medical and police records. Mentally stable? Passed. Whoa! Hold the phone! She was arrested at seventeen for beating the fuck out of a couple guys. I let out a breath when I find that they were trying to kill her for her ex-boyfriend, according to previous and more recently filed reports. Domestic violence, harassment, assault and battery, voyeurism, theft, and stalking charges are all ones she filed with the proof to support each one. She's a victim, but got arrested for defending herself? Who is her ex? Where was this? New York? She's from there? Looks like the Bronx to be exact. A mobster's nephew is her last boyfriend with attachment issues until she moved out here, started college, laid low, and feels safe enough to work. She has her own place. The last police report was two years ago, about three months before moving out here. Pretty hazel eyes, caramel colored hair, not stick thin and not that big. Intelligent, pretty, ambitious and works hard.
Wait, caramel colored hair? She had white hair at the store. Did she dye her hair or is it a wig? At any rate, it won't hurt to be a friend to her. There's a link to her Facebook and I follow it, checking what I can see. She's not on much from what I can tell. Her last update was almost three weeks old and said something along the lines of missing home and how she wishes she could see her family.
She seemed like a sweet enough girl. And I hadn't flirted with anyone that way since I had met Deven. Maybe she's worth getting close to, possibly even trusting. Within a few moments, she accepted my friend request.
How did you find me so fast? She asked in a message another moment later. I smiled to myself.
Not a lot of girls named Persephone around here lol I replied. Even if there were, not a single could be as pretty as you are. I add a winky face to the end of my statement and hit send.
Do you use lines like that on everyone? she asks, laughing back at me.
Only on the ones I would like to take dinner tonight. She didn't reply right away and for a moment I thought she would reject me. It has been over eight months since Deven and I had broken up and I wasn't sure if I could take a rejection.
Are you serious?
Well, yeah. I want to get to know you a little better (: I leaned back in my chair and chewed nervously at my nails.
How do I even know it's really you?
I came in and you rang me out. Thin mints, yoo-hoo and some mini mr. goodbars. I let you see my face and you stayed quiet. White hair, beautiful hazel eyes and a breathtaking smile when it's natural.
Another nerve racking slow response and then she replies. Can I get to choose when and where?
Of course you can, Persephone. I grin, knowing that I have succeeded in getting her to agree to go out with me and to allow me to get to know her.
Fine then (: There's the cute little French place on North Main Street and I'm out at 4 so say about...6? It's quiet, discreet and the lights are usually dimmed down. I sit back and wait as I weigh the pros and cons, making her sweat a little. Unless you're too chicken shit.;) I smile at her lack of filtration. A true New Yorker to the bone.
Too chicken shit? I believe I asked you out. I have to go, but tell me where to pick you up tonight.
She gave me the address to what she described as the small tan house with black shutters and a missing front stair. I knew the area and it wasn't the most reputable. As I logged out of Facebook, I decided I best not take the Escalade. I hop over to a rent a car website and reserved a small green Ford with a dent in the passenger's side. Should be just ghetto enough to not be a target.
