It was finally 7 pm. Clio flipped the sign on the front door of her shop so that “Closed” could be read from the street. It had been a long, busy day. The delivery service portion of her business had been overwhelmed. She usually didn’t have to leave the shop for deliveries herself, but today she had been forced to descend into the SMARTA station herself, balancing huge buckets and boxes carefully so as not to spill the array of red roses, pink carnations, and white lilies onto the grime covered concrete of the subway steps. Once she finished locking up the register and pulling down the metal grille that covered the front of the store, Clio left through the back, setting the security alarm as she went. She crawled through the hole in the vacant lot next to her shop. She had cut that hole herself last year with a large pair of wire cutters she had borrowed from her brother. She was walking towards the street when she noticed that the vacant lot was, in fact, no longer vacant. Her face broke into a grimace of revulsion. “Will stuff while you wait!” proclaimed the sign that dangled from around the neck of a bright orange taxidermied cat. As she passed the front of the booth, the young woman running it smiled and beckoned her over. She smiled back but hurried on down the street as quickly as she could. The booth worried her. Hopefully the woman only taxidermied on request….
She entered the small coffee shop just as a gust of wind swept down the block. Her hair blew across her face, covering her eyes and causing the grocery bags that hung from the fingers of her left hand to twist and cut off her circulation. The wind was cold. She was glad she had gone by her apartment to change into jeans before she ventured out to complete her part of the preparations. When she reached the counter, her order was taken by a pretty woman in a strikingly red shirt. Pulling out her wallet from her purse, Clio searched for the extra quarters she was always meaning to spend. She smiled and apologized as she handed the woman several dollars in change, but the woman did not return her smile.
She was almost asleep when she heard the knock on the door. She pushed herself of the couch and rubbed her eyes as she walked to the door. She checked the peep hole for security's sake, but it was who she was expecting. She hadn't asked him to come; he had simply volunteered. She pushed the deadbolt back. She greeted Ollie warmly, inviting him into the kitchen. She handed him one of the now cold to-go coffees and a mug and pointed him to the microwave. It would be a long night. He suggested they watch a movie to pass the time.
She knocked again on the door, louder this time. “Ryan! Wake up!” No answer. “You said you would help us!” She raised her hand to knock again. The door opened suddenly. A very sleepy Ryan stood in the doorway. He peered into the gloom of the hallway. Ollie was leaning against the opposite wall and tiredly watching the action. A small gym bag sat at his feet. “It’s tonight, is it? I thought we were doing this tomorrow.” Clio groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “Alright, alright, give me a minute…” Clio smiled.
The tenants of Washington Heights rarely used this door. She had carefully observed it for two weeks to make sure of this fact. The saw made a horrible shrieking noise as it cut through the thick metal of the ground floor door. Clio worried that someone would hear, but the only night guard was asleep in the small entrance way all the way on the other side of the building. Still, Ollie stood guard at the end of the hallway, just in case. Clio stood staring in front of the window while the saw whirred on next to her. She thought for a second she saw a flash of movement but gave it up to her imagination after watching for a few more minutes. The noise stopped. “Alright, now you can do the rest,” Ryan said, standing.
The elevator door slid open. Ollie and Clio stumbled sleepily into the hallway, Clio digging in her bag for her keys. She looked up when she heard a voice. “Ma’am, is this your apartment?” A policeman stood directly in front of her door. “Yes it is. Is there a problem?” “There’s been a break-in at a shop down the street. Grow Towards the Sun. The alarm system was triggered. You're the owner, correct?”
. . . . .
She entered the small coffee shop just as a gust of wind swept down the block. Her hair blew across her face, covering her eyes and causing the grocery bags that hung from the fingers of her left hand to twist and cut off her circulation. The wind was cold. She was glad she had gone by her apartment to change into jeans before she ventured out to complete her part of the preparations. When she reached the counter, her order was taken by a pretty woman in a strikingly red shirt. Pulling out her wallet from her purse, Clio searched for the extra quarters she was always meaning to spend. She smiled and apologized as she handed the woman several dollars in change, but the woman did not return her smile.
. . . . .
She was almost asleep when she heard the knock on the door. She pushed herself of the couch and rubbed her eyes as she walked to the door. She checked the peep hole for security's sake, but it was who she was expecting. She hadn't asked him to come; he had simply volunteered. She pushed the deadbolt back. She greeted Ollie warmly, inviting him into the kitchen. She handed him one of the now cold to-go coffees and a mug and pointed him to the microwave. It would be a long night. He suggested they watch a movie to pass the time.
. . . . .
She knocked again on the door, louder this time. “Ryan! Wake up!” No answer. “You said you would help us!” She raised her hand to knock again. The door opened suddenly. A very sleepy Ryan stood in the doorway. He peered into the gloom of the hallway. Ollie was leaning against the opposite wall and tiredly watching the action. A small gym bag sat at his feet. “It’s tonight, is it? I thought we were doing this tomorrow.” Clio groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “Alright, alright, give me a minute…” Clio smiled.
. . . . .
The tenants of Washington Heights rarely used this door. She had carefully observed it for two weeks to make sure of this fact. The saw made a horrible shrieking noise as it cut through the thick metal of the ground floor door. Clio worried that someone would hear, but the only night guard was asleep in the small entrance way all the way on the other side of the building. Still, Ollie stood guard at the end of the hallway, just in case. Clio stood staring in front of the window while the saw whirred on next to her. She thought for a second she saw a flash of movement but gave it up to her imagination after watching for a few more minutes. The noise stopped. “Alright, now you can do the rest,” Ryan said, standing.
. . . . .
The elevator door slid open. Ollie and Clio stumbled sleepily into the hallway, Clio digging in her bag for her keys. She looked up when she heard a voice. “Ma’am, is this your apartment?” A policeman stood directly in front of her door. “Yes it is. Is there a problem?” “There’s been a break-in at a shop down the street. Grow Towards the Sun. The alarm system was triggered. You're the owner, correct?”
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She brought the glass of red liquid to her lips, reflecting on the events of the
day, pondering over what would happen next. Her legs covered in dark boots crossed, swinging in the air off the stool. She didn’t lean on the bar, as did the gentlemen who had been continuously consuming shots since he got here. She hadn’t seen him before, at least not before she left. He’d looked at her only once and ignored her the rest of the time—she hated him.
Bored of the rather dull atmosphere—no music, no entertainment, no men—she finished her numbing elixir in a soft gulp, head tilted back, long dark hair sweeping her back in fierce strokes. Rising, she grabbed her leather jacket and proceeded to the door. Putting on the jacket, she reached to pull the door open. A wave of shock hit as the blinding white light met her eyes—and he entered. Compared to the atmosphere, he was a God.
“Excuse me,” I managed to purr, as I brushed past, careful to graze his perfect arm as he held the door for me. She’d have to keep special tabs on him.
Her boots echoed as she made her way on the pavement, boots echoing her every step, unable to penetrate the noise of the city traffic. Without a destination in mind, her thoughts crept to the men she’d just met. She envied them. The alcoholic, in all his distasteful existence, seemed to even then have purpose, a reason. Since she got back, the direction of her life seemed elusive. She’d always lacked specific direction in her life, but she had an overwhelming sense that something needed to be dealt with—she just didn’t know what yet. It was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, no matter how much alcohol she consumed. Wine—she needed more. Interestingly enough, her mind had been one step ahead of her; she had somehow made it to the front of Manny’s Grocery.
She entered the store. Taking a basket, she made her down the aisles to get to wine section. She thought back to the women she hadn’t previously given notice to: the weird woman on the sidewalk and the annoying twit on the elevator; even they had some path that they were drifting along, no matter how insignificant. She stood in the aisle, staring at the glass bottles that would be her sweet aid. Some woman was muttering next to her, she was also staring. She appreciated this woman’s taste, but it was rude to stare, even if it was at Nicole. She left the aisle, and bought her wine. Number one task out of the way, she headed to the coffee shop.
Sun high in the sky, she entered the shop.
Oh dear. Molina was in the convenience store talking to Dillain. The ding of the bell signaled her entrance, and they both looked up. Molina made a smart comment, followed by another. Nicole ignored her and went to the back room. She set her bag down and changed. Dark jeans and red blouse on, she returned to the front. Dillain had left, which only left Molina. How she was not in the mood…
“So?” Molina questioned, hand on hip, impatience in her voice.
“I wasn’t in my apartment, obviously. How can I help you?” Nicole retorted with equal attitude.
“Jus’ wanted to check on ya, hadn’t heard from you in a long time.” Her lack of speaking skills always infuriated her, other than that, Molina wasn’t so bad. Nicole even enjoyed her company some of the time, she’d been a good friend before she left.
“I’ll try to answer my phone next time, or bring my cell phone with me; whichever.” Effectively assured, Molina left.
And so work began.
Dillain entered the shop at 12 a.m., right on time.
“I’ll see you later,” Nicole said as she flew past him in her hurry to leave. She’d bee so eager to leave she’d almost hit him on her way out. She loved and hated Sketch Coffee. Taking ownership from her uncle had been easy enough, but as far as she knew, her uncle got the better end of the deal. Walking back to her building, home, she considered the people who’d come in. A woman, young, pretty brown hair, poor. Taking out change like an imbecile to pay for her coffee, which had been difficult to “make” in and of itself. A man who’d bust in the store, unwashed. She knew that these people stayed in her building, but that didn’t make them any more appealing to talk to, however convenient it might be.
When she stepped off the elevator on the 11th floor, she noticed a strange and eaciated character jiggling the door knob of my apartment.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Well obviously I am trying to break into your apartment. It's much more difficult than it looks, I usually have someone else do this. Regardless, there is no point in continuing, I shall take my leave."
She'd of kicked his ass, but she had she more pressing matters to deal with; however, she wouldn't forget this encounter--or this insect. She watched him walk away and push the button of the elevator. She memorized his statue and appearance--she stored it in her memory for later. She entered the apartment. She breathed a huge sigh as she threw herself on the couch. Her dress and drinks were in the bag, but she’d get them later. With nothing to occupy her mind, she considered the problem that lay ahead and behind her. Something needed to be done about something, she just didn’t know what. She raised up and placed her arms on her knees, head in her hands. The unknown task harassed her thoughts until impatience flowed into her limbs. She had to get out.
She switched from jeans to her short, pleated, black skirt. She grabbed boots from her closet—red. The cold wouldn’t bother her after a few drinks, so she left her jacket and left the troubling apartment.
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