#1
That Card probably has more money than I could ever get if I sold my soul.
Olive Kennedy, rethinking all her life choices.
The last thing I was expecting when I woke up this morning is that I would be saving a sixteen year old from what looked to be a gang of potential child molesters, some might say that attacking four bulky ass men with my two year old umbrella with the broken handle was a terrible course of action but really, what was I supposed to do when the sweet girl who'd given me a beautiful fifty dollar tip after I made her a state of the art Selficino was suddenly being attacked in the dark and exceedingly creepy alleyway that housed our dumpster? It's a no brainer really, you dive in head first with the nearest weapon you can find, which in my case was an umbrella, one I probably should've retired after the first spring broke in three places but I'm a relentless hoarder and I tend to appreciate the value of old things, the fact that I make less than three hundred dollars a month while living in the middle of suburban New York is just another small matter. But I digress. Actually, I'm not telling this story right. Let's start at the beginning.
My name is Olive Kennedy and I'm twenty-four years old. I live in Manhattan, a stone's throw from Cornelia street, New York City. Now I know what you're thinking, holy shit, she lives in the same vicinity as Taylor Swift? Not even close my good friend. While the amazing song was my inspiration behind living the warm embrace of my mother's white picket fenced house in Pennsylvania to the cold cold arms of NYC, I am in no way close to achieving that, in fact, I'm farther from the music industry than if I were living in India. While she owns a five thousand square feet mansion there, I can barely move around my living room without bumping into furniture, actually I'm being a little too generous calling it a living room. The tiny shoebox space serves as my dining room, lounge area, tv room and half of my kitchen. It's sad to the point of being pathetic. Yay me. Again, I digress.
I am twenty-four years old and I am a writer. Have I ever published anything? If we are counting the fanfic I wrote about the salvatore brothers ditching Elena and falling instead for a certain redhead with freckles and the greenest green eyes you ever saw (*clears throat* Me *Clears throat*) then sure, I'm a published author, to be fair, I did get a pretty large following on that story until I fell sick for three weeks and by the time I returned someone had adapted my idea and started a whole other series. I had this dream three years ago right after college graduation, that I would move here, write a killer enemies to lovers touch her and you're dead/crawl to me novel and become the next Ana Huang, but so far, all I have are three unfinished manuscripts, a bad credit score, some expired milk in the fridge that I've managed to convince myself that Best before doesn't actually mean it goes bad on that day, it's just a gentle warning that the product is at it's finest before that period, who cares if it's been three weeks since then? And before I forget, the crumpled business card of a so-called agent who told me I look like I'd write good smut. I mean I do, but it was still super creepy hearing it from a balding forty year old with a perpetual leer on his face. It doesn't help that my ADHD makes it literally impossible for me to concentrate, it's a good thing I'm still on my mom's insurance and can afford the medication or my life would be a mess of even bigger proportions than it already is.
I work at a cute little cafe/bookstore during the day and in the evenings, I pick up all sorts of odd jobs. Do you need someone to wait in line for you at the grocery store or at a comic con first come first serve event? I'm your girl, you need a fake date to your ex's wedding to show her just how much better your life is without her, I'm on it. You need someone to babysit your lousy nine year old while you go on a date with your hot new boyfriend, I've got you. All of that, coupled with the little money I make from freelancing and writing articles is how I'm able to pay my rent and keep up with the latest color of hair tie, keeping my stash up to date. On this particular morning, I get dressed in my usual way too faded jeans and a fraying crop top I convince people is the style and a loose flannel top and I set out to the cafe with my laptop and umbrella, the cute weather guy on channel six did forcast a light drizzle.
I like this place just fine, it's the kind of establishment a girly girl would dream of owning, with the autumn vibes aesthetics with plastic maple leaves and low hanging multi-coloured bulbs, it creates a really soothing atmosphere. The place is also lined with bookshelves with the raunchiest romance novels you can find, it's too bad the owner isn't a girl's girl at all, more like a man dripping with toxic masculinity and fake masochism. Most of our customers only come in here to take pictures, make tiktok videos and bury their heads in books for hours on end which is exactly what this girl has done. I notice her immediately she walks in, she has the bluest eyes I've ever seen and the most beautiful gold curls, the kind you can't get from a bottle, no matter how expensive. There's a gentleness about her, a grace in the way she carries herself. Different from the raucousness of her companions, I'm immediately drawn to her. I watch her peruse the bookshelves for a bit before she picks up a book, I squint to see the title.
The Maddest Obsession. Ah, good one. I try to focus on the customer in front of me while I watch her from my peripherals as she peruses the book, and the blush on her face is a dead giveaway that she's come across Christian Alistair in all his naked glory. I smile and hand the guy his iced latte, smiling a little extra when he drops a five dollar note in my tip jar.The girl makes her way to where I'm standing behind the service counter and she smiles at me.
"Excuse me, how much is it to rent this book?"
"Hello and welcome, that actually goes by the hour, it's five bucks per hour." I respond and she nods, typically, when people hear the price at which our books go for they're outraged. Why should I have to pay fifteen dollars for just three hours with a book when I could own the whole thing for thirty-five? Elliot has made us memorize the mantra.
It's the ambience you're paying for.
But this girl, bless her soul, doesn't even flinch at the price thereby saving me from giving the speech.
"Can I just buy it? My friends are leaving soon and I don't want to start something I won't get to finish."
I shake my head and give her a small smile.
"Sorry Sugar, rentals only." She has an accent, I can't quite place it but it's there, it sounds exotic, the way the words roll off her tongue with her consonants more pronounced as if she's making a conscious effort not to miss them.
"Oh well, can I get coffee too?"
I raise my eyebrows and smile at her. "You old enough for caffeine?" she shrugs.
"My cousins have no problem letting me sip their whiskey."
"Hm, well they sound like God sends. Tell you what, if you stay here and for just a little while, sip the amazing decaf selficino I'll prepare for you and I'll let you take the book home with you, just for one day, how's that sound?" her face lights up and she smiles.
"I would love that, thank you miss…"
"Just Olive babes, what's your name?"
"Arianna, but my friends call me Ari."
"Well Ari, sit tight and your drink will be ready in no time."
She smiled and took a seat by the window, I prepared the drink and she bid her freinds goodbye. A little over twenty minutes later, she comes back with her empty glass and the book pressed to her chest.
"I loved the drink, thank you very much for making it for me. And this book," I can see the stars dancing in her eyes and I smile.
"Please tell me I can take it home with me." I raise a teasing brow at her as I write up a reciept.
"You know you can buy it on the internet right? You got a kindle?"
"I know, but it takes away just a bit of the magic when the book is not in your hands, no?" I smile and nod. "Right." I show her the bill and just before I can offer her the student discount, she pulls out a card, a freaking black Amex and swipes it. My jaw drops. This baby is carrying around a black card that she just leisurely swipes in coffee shops? It briefly occurs to me that I could add up every asset I have and it probably wouldn't make a dent on what's in that card, it's a freaking Amex!
Things happen pretty quickly after that.
A few minutes after she leaves and copious amounts of time spent rethinking my life choices, I prepare to clock out.
"Hey Olive, would you mind taking the trash on your way out?" Heather asks, Heather and I have worked here together for six months now, she's been here longer than I have so there's a kind of respect I accord her. Heather also hates taking out the trash because our back alley where the dumpster was located because it was a choice hangout for creeps and homeless men, the homeless I don't mind, but the ones who call me sugar and always have something sticking out of their mouths are the ones I've got issues with. Big ones. Really, everyone avoids going there, or they try to pass it on to someone else, in this case me.We've been asking Elliot to get surveillance cameras out here but he refuses to "do the work of the government with his measly income." I smile at her and nod.
"No problem, see you tomorrow." I say, picking up my umbrella and the overflowing trash bag.
I had planned to go home early and work on my article that's due in two days.
"Did Pluto really deserve that demotion? Who gets to decide that!" it was for a space blog enthusiast and the Forty-five dollars he was paying me would cover my groceries for at least a week. I couldn't lose it. Those thoughts are immediately expelled when I see my new favorite customer, completely surrounded by four wife beaters wearing dudes (all of whom had either toothpicks or sticks of straw sticking out of their mouths. Where do you even get straw in New York City?
"You should really let me go now." Ari said, I don't know if it was false bravado that made her voice sound so calm, but it was hella convincing, not that the buffoons paid heed, they simply pulled in closer to her.
"Hey dickheads, didn't you hear her?" everyone turns to stare at me, Ari is wide eyed and I think, ah shit, I really did not think this true, then again, I hardly ever think anything through, at least not like a rational individual would.
"Hey Mike, looky here. Might be raining beauties today or some'n" one of them says in a faux country accent. Of course. The one I assume is Mike makes his way forward, the look he's giving me is enough to make anyone gag.
"Ye right Bailey, maybe little Miss here wants to join in the fun, huh what do you say?" to that, they all burst out laughing and I exchange an eye roll with Arianna. Men. or at least, these jokers.
"Come on now baby, don't be shy. We'll give it to you real good. Maybe even spank you if you're bad, if you know what I mean." another one pipes up. I know what he means and it will require bleach to get rid of that mental image.
"Over my dead, stinking and rotten body, now back off and let the girl through." Mike seems to get upset then, and he slings his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him.
"I don't hear her complaining."
"She's Probably trying not to gag, even i can smell you from all the way over here."
"You gon' let her speak to you like that?" Bailey says and Mike frowns, clearly getting upset.
"Maybe we should teach her a lesson or two, show her what happens to girls who run their mouths, heck, I could think of better uses for that pretty thing." I physically gag and shudder and I see Arianna shiver. She must be terrified.
"Okay cut the shit and let her go assholes, do you know how many surveillance cameras there are here?" Umm, zero, since my last count, forty five seconds ago.
"This bitch thinks we're stupid." Bailey has gotten uncomfortably close to me now, I can smell his breath. Like bad decisions and rotten tooth picks.
"Come here, mouth as sassy as yours gotta be skilled too." from the corner of my eye, I see Mike rubbing his hands up and down Ari's arms. Now, I have never claimed to be the smartest of the bunch but even I would admit that what I did next was colossally stupid.
I raise my umbrella and wack it over Bailey's head. It comes apart like a jenga tower, the handle finally snapping off. I watch in horror as my only weapon of warfare drops to the ground.
Well, shit.
I sneak a view at Arianna and she looks… not terrified. I fake a laugh and step back, raising my arms in surrender.
"Okay, alright, how about we forget that happened, agree to put this all in the past and move on?" from the grunt Bailey makes, I can only assume he doesn't share that sentiment. In a second, the men have left Ari alone and are now surrounding me. I give her a look that screams
GET OUT OF HERE NOW, GO, SAVE YOURSELF, REMEMBER ME. BUILD A STATUE IN MY HONOR, MAKE THIS ALLEY A MEMORIAL GROUND FOR ME AND PLEASE, MAKE SURE MY ASSHOLE BOSS INSTALLS SOME CAMERAS HERE!
She doesn't seem to catch my drift however because she… smiles? Okay, it might just be me, but this girl is emitting some serious psycho vibes right now. I don't see the blow coming, which is why I fall to my knees so easily. Yeah, totally, let's go with that. It's certainly not because I weigh nothing and I'm too poor to enroll in a gym. It was a backhand to my cheek and son of a bitch, it hurt.
"Shit. you hit like a little bitch." I say, again, maybe not the smartest thing to have said. I'm seeing stars and I feel myself passing out. Mark raises his hand and this time it's a fist.This is it, this is where I die. Clementine, my beautiful starfish is going to die because there will be no one to feed her and change the water in the little aquarium, I really should've thought about that before I spoke. I close my eyes and accept my fate, but the blow never lands. My senses are rapidly dulling and the taste of metal on my lips is making me nauseous, which is probably why I'm having visions now.
They say the grim reaper is handsome, they weren't wrong. I open my eyes and I'm met with the strangest, most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen, eyes that are somehow familiar. This must be what it feels like to have the angel of death before you. Holy shit, my reaper is hot! Wait, did I say that out loud? Well, so much for last words. My eyes close and I welcome the darkness.