FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #7

She's a local. That's the only thing I know about her.

Well, let me explain this from the beginning, from before I met her.

First of all; life is tough. This is a hard fact that everyone knows and learns. Even the people who are blessed with enjoyable existences can attest to the vaults and hurdles this quirky thing called life likes to hurl at us. Unfortunately, I'm cursed with what's called a 'bad slice of life' and tend to get more walls than hurdles thrown at me. Also, my slice of the proverbial pie of life isn't only small, but I think some punk snuck some worms into it too.

I have little to no money to my name constantly and live in a horribly overpriced apartment situated in the downtown of my fair city. By 'fair', I really mean 'horrible and low-income'. With my outstanding 'optimism', I've really grown attached to euphemisms. Not only do I live in a crappy part of the city, I'm single and constantly getting shot down. It's not like I'm bad looking or smelly, I just think the women I go for can sense that a future with me would lead nowhere. I think women are like those canaries miners bring with them into mine shafts. Except instead of methane, women can smell failure.

Now let me explain why I'm struggling with money and as a result, women. The economy crashed a couple years ago. The job market is practically nonexistent. As such, I've seriously lowered any and all standards I had. I applied anywhere I could. Eventually I landed an interview with some old fart CEO. Get this. I was applying for a secretary position that would provide just enough income to afford my bills and keep myself from drowning completely in debt. You'd think that old lech would want some pretty little blonde instead of hiring some average Joe, huh? Nope. He hired me. I was more than excited, seeing as that same day he interviewed two of the most voluptuous women I had ever seen.

Regardless, he hired me. I wondered why, maybe he was a bit... you know, light in the loafers or something. After the initial excitement of getting hired, I started to fear that he'd try to pressure me into some questionable actions to keep the job. Thankfully, I was wrong. Unfortunately, I think he hired me as a cheap alternative to a shrink to cure his anger management issues. On a daily basis he gives me hellish schedules and tasks to organize, along with all of his PR crap. I'm almost always on the phone dealing with his clients, too. And when I'm not dealing with all that, he's shouting at me personally. That angry, wrinkled raisin-face of his haunts me on my days off.

So that's me. Single with a dead end stress-inducing job, horrible living situation, financially unstable. Miserable with a cynical grin. I was out drinking with a few old college buddies and got sloshed enough to start complaining about my life. Now, I'm pretty tied up constantly with my job so I don't normally hang out with people anymore. It's safe to say I don't have any real friends at the present. But this guy who was drinking with me, his name is Scott Hayes. That night he bumped right up to best friend status with me.

"Dude, why don't you take a fuckin' vacation if it's that bad?" He asked me that day. Knocking back the rest of my mug, I remember belching at him. "Because taking a vacation means going somewhere I enjoy and do fun things. And I can't do neither." I told him with a drunken hiccup. That's when he offered me his summer house for a week.

Yes, this guy has a summer house. Apparently he's a friend of a friend of mine who came along. Some guy who's a doctor, I guess. He apparently plays with brains or something because he makes big money and has a house on the beach on the island just a couple miles off the coast of where I live. He decided from hearing my tale of drunken woe that I needed a break. He gave me his number, told me to get in contact with him when I told my boss I was taking a week off.

I did that almost instantly and that guy named Scott gave me the keys to his summer home. I took a barge out to the island and am all decked out in beach-wear. I mean, it is summer. Middle of July. And now I'm living on the beach for a week instead of sweating all night in my air-conditioningless apartment. And I couldn't complain. But I couldn't keep but thinking that something would suddenly go wrong when I least expected it.

Now, since that's all out of the way. Let me explain to you how I met her. The 'local'.

I was wearing a collared shirt open and unbuttoned along with a pair of those little blue shorts with waves on 'em while sipping one of those little drinks with the umbrella that always pokes you in the eye. I was sitting at one of those open ceiling Hawaiian-themed bars, my back turned to the bars and my eyes fixed on all the scantily-clad women who kept passing by while walking the beach. I had to admit, bikinis were probably one of man's greatest inventions.

"So, does staring at half-naked women land you a lot of dates?" I heard from next to me, nearly in my ear. "Oh wha-" I began, startled by the voice as I spilled my drink onto my bare chest. "Ugh." I muttered, glaring towards the source of the voice that had made me spill my six dollar annoying umbrella-drink. The fact that an attractive woman was grinning in my face softened my scowl. I reached backwards, grabbing a napkin from the bar and dabbing at my chest.

"So, does it?" She asked me again as I finished mopping my chest up. I looked to her with an arched eyebrow. "No, it doesn't." I said. I mean, come on. When has staring ever worked? Usually it just makes me come across creepy and desperate. I didn't think I was creepy, but it'd be a stretch to say I wasn't desperate to find some companionship. "Then why not talk to one of them?" She asked. I turned back around and to the bar. "Another, please?" I asked politely to the tan bartender who was talking to the other customers off to the side.

"Sure thing, friend." He said as he mixed up another fruity drink in a cocktail mixer and poured it into my little martini glass. I sipped it as I glanced towards her. I wasn't in the mood immediately to answer. The summer heat was making me feel lazy, so I felt like taking my time. "Even if I talked to a girl who was interested in me, they don't stay interested for long. I've got nothin' goin' for me." I said.

I inspected her while she turned away from me and smiled at the little wall with shelves that held alcohol mixing tools and a small fridge for stocking the ingredients. She was a bit taller than me, maybe by an inch or two. She wore a bikini top, a simple black one. Her hair was pulled into a high loose ponytail, strands of her bangs escaping her hair band's grip and falling delicately into her eyes. She wore a little bit of eyeliner, no other makeup though. She didn't really need it. She had a really pretty face, a perfectly rounded chin that came to a soft point and smooth skin. I felt my eyes wandering down her bare stomach, resting on the defined hipbones that peeked out from over the waist of her light blue jeans. She wore a sash loosely around her waist, too. A black one with some faint brown design embroidered on it.

"Really, huh? What don't you have going for you?" She asked simply as the man behind the bar brought her a few shot glasses without her asking for it. They were all filled with an amber liquid, probably some kind of strong whiskey or bourbon. She lifted it to her lips, sipping it softly, not knocking it back like most people would've. This girl was odd, but she interested me. I wasn't sure. Something about her made me curious. Maybe it was the popping out of nowhere thing, or maybe it was her inability to smell the scent of failure on me.

I decided not to pull the punches as I sipped my fruity drink while glancing to her shot glasses. I was half tempted to ask if she'd be willing to trade. I didn't know they had anything hard. I just asked for whatever the bartender thought would be good to drink. "Well, I'm almost always broke, I'm a secretary, I don't even have a car, I barely have any friends and I strike out with women more often than a child would playing a major league pitcher." I said in a single, fluid breath. I heard the bartender snicker at me but stifle his laughter.

"So?" The woman asked. That's when the alarms started going off. She had to either be crazy or a drug addict or a convict. Or a scam artist. Couldn't she smell my worthlessness? I'm sure she could. Eventually she'd get up and give me some excuse and I'd never see her again. She smiled at me. "So? That doesn't change who you are. You might be a really interesting person stuck in a really bad spot." She said, as if it were perfectly common sense. I paused while I sipped my drink, the sun beating down on my neck while I pondered this woman.

Either someone upstairs liked me, or there was some serious catch here. "You think that? So, when you scared the crap out of me, did you think I might be 'interesting'?" I asked. She nodded. "Yeah, something about you caught my eye. So tell me about yourself." She said, sipping her shot glass to around halfway empty. "Well... where do I start? Gimme a topic." I requested, not looking towards her. I felt if I looked directly at her, she'd vanish or something. Like a mirage. Because honestly, I didn't think she was real.

"Well, if you said you've got little money, how'd you get here?" She asked. "I mean, living here or visiting costs money. And it's a known tourist spot, so it's not cheap." She explained, reasoning it out. She was fairly bright. "A guy I know lent me his summer house. He's a doctor or something, gave me the keys and told me to take a vacation. Enjoy an escape from a crappy life, or somethin' like that." I said, sipping my drink. She laughed. "Well, your friend knows what he's doing." She stated, growing quiet afterwards. "Anything else?" I asked her after a few moments of silence. She nodded. "Give me a minute, I'll think of something."

"Did you go to college?" She asked, turning to look at me. I looked her way and then averted my eyes. "Yeah, I dropped out though. Didn't get my degree." I explained to her. She nodded. "What were you majoring in?" She asked. She was definitely odd. Normally the first thing a person asked was why I dropped out, not what I was majoring in. "I was a musician, so I was majoring in music." I said, placing down the glass after having poked myself in the eye one too many times with the damned umbrella. I pulled it out and twirled it between my forefinger and thumb.

"Really?" She asked, sounding excited all of a sudden. "What instrument?" She added, leaning in towards me. I chuckled softly to myself. I hadn't thought about my college days in a long time. It was a bittersweet remembrance. "I was a cellist, part of the school's orchestra. I'd sometimes play with a few friends at bars in a jazz band for pocket change and fun." I said, looking to the umbrella, feeling a bit sad. I think she picked up on it because she asked another good question.

"Why'd you stop?" She queried, her tone matching my mood. The excitement of this trip and enjoying some sun and some quiet alone time faded pretty quickly. This was something I didn't like talking about. But... she asked and she had been the first woman to at least feign genuine interest in me this well if she wasn't actually legitimate. "My father died halfway through my second year. My mom had been gone for ten years, so I had no one to pay for college anymore. The bank took the house because my dad hadn't finished the mortgage. I was out of a house and had to drop out and struggle for money and a place to live. That was five years ago. Hasn't gotten any easier since." I explained, a sigh escaping my lips.

There was a long silence between her and I. I put down my drink and reached over to one of her shots. I threw it back, swallowing the burning liquid and hoping the sweet liquor would fog my mind quick enough to forget what memories I had just dredged up. She looked to me with a frown, looking sad that she brought up such sad memories. I was bad at hiding how I felt. I always wore my heart on my sleeve and I couldn't help it. It was just who I was; I couldn't change it. Most people used it against me.

"Sorry for asking." She said, sipping quietly at the shot glass she hadn't finished. It didn't seem to bother her that I had drank her liquor. Stuff was inordinately strong, too. I felt a bit dizzy after that shot. "No worries, sweetheart. I'm used to it. Being lonely." I said with a sardonic smile. "It's a way of life for me now. I'm used to it." I said as I tried to cheer up. "I should get back to playing, though. I sold just about everything I had except my cello and my bow. It's the only thing I've really ever been good at. I couldn't part with the only thing in life that had been good to me that somehow hadn't been taken from me." I explained to her. She nodded in agreement. "I'm glad you didn't. A musician without an instrument is just wrong." She said and I nodded with her. She made me feel like playing my old instrument again.

"But enough of that. I'm here to enjoy myself. It's my vacation." I said as a smile crept it's way onto my face. "You're right. You should keep smiling." She said with a grin of her own. "After all, you look cuter that way." She added, causing my heart to jump. I hadn't been complimented by a woman in a long time. Did that mean she was interested in me? My mind started racing. Was this a chance? Would I finally be able to get a girl? I entertained all sorts of thoughts and theories, but eventually all of them were interrupted as a shrill beeping came from where she sat. It sounded like an alert from her cell phone. Reaching into her pocket, she fished out a cellphone, reading what was probably a text message. "Oh man, I'm really sorry. I gotta run, but I enjoyed meeting you." She said, giving me a big smile that made me melt a bit. "I really liked meeting you too." I said, wondering how I could somehow make a motion, somehow show her I was interested in her too.

In the end the only thing I could think of was to reach out towards her face. I brushed aside a lock of her bangs that fell into her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. She looked surprised and her wide brown eyes reflected it. I placed the umbrella behind her ear. "There. Something to remember me by." I said with a laugh. What, you thought I'd kiss her? I'm not that suave. She giggled to herself, adjusting the little umbrella a bit. "If you come by again after this vacation... bring your cello, okay? I'd like you to play me a song." She told me. I nodded. "I'll make sure to." I told her. She held out a pinky. "Promise?" She asked. I laughed aloud. It was childish, but I couldn't discount her when she was this cute for a girl around my age.

"I promise." I said, wrapping my finger around hers. "Well then, I'll make you a promise too." She said, keeping her finger wrapped around mine. "I promise that I'll be your first lucky break when you come back and play me a song." She told me as she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, dashing out of the open-ceiling bar quickly. My heart was racing. What... who was that? She hit me like a strong breeze, a hit and run of affection and hope.

I looked to my umbrellaless drink and then to the bartender. I felt like I was in a dream. "Hey. Who was that?" I asked. We hadn't even exchanged names, but we were making promises like we had been close friends forever. The bartender laughed at me.

"Oh, her? She's a local."

And that's all I know about her. And now my vacation is over and I'm back in my crappy little apartment in my crappy little city. But now I have a bit of motivation to deal with all the hardship I get dealt. I plan to work my ass off to get back to that island on my own and with my cello.

After all, I made a promise.

back to Contest #7