Fallen Woman(6)

I sat on the bench outside the building, just off to the side of the flood of people racing home on Friday. The hustle and bustle went in the opposite direction, giving me a moment to collect myself after a good cry. I knew I wouldn’t get rich working in the mailroom, but I’d hoped to have enough to buy Miss Pearl some groceries or get a card. Anything I could contribute with this little bit of money would be an insult. The tears streamed down my face as I kept my back to the people making their way toward their weekend.

“Gia, are you all right?” The familiar voice from behind startled me. I quickly tried to dry my face before turning around, but his firm hand hit my shoulder, forcing my eyes to his before I was ready. “Whoa. Why are you crying?” His brow furrowed and a worried look set in his features.

We weren’t friends. I didn’t know why he cared nor how he kept finding me. I figured he worked in the building, but I hadn’t a clue where. He just seemed to appear out of nowhere—regularly.

I swatted my hand in the air as if it were nothing. “I’m fine. Really.”

When he took the seat next to me, I knew he wasn’t leaving without more of an explanation—one I wasn’t ready to give. As he started talking, I searched my mind for answers to questions he hadn’t asked, preparing myself to give as little information as possible. This man had no clue what my life was like, and I didn’t want him to learn through me. I didn’t want anyone to know how far I’d fallen.

“Gianna?” He said my name as though he was waiting for my response.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He smiled that half grin at me, his stone-colored eyes piercing my soul. “I asked what has you so upset?”

Even after I sat there, determined to give him zero information, I still opened up more than I should have to a man I didn’t know. With a heavy sigh, I let out the first tidbit, the crack that would eventually allow him to push the door wide open. “I got paid today.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone cry on payday. Although now that I think about it, I probably should.” His attempt at lightening the mood was appreciated, but fell flat.

“I was just hoping to be able to do something for a friend who has helped me out tremendously. I’m disappointed I won’t be able to.” A rush of frustrated air escaped my lungs. “I needed a minute to compose myself before going home. You seem to have a knack for finding me at my worst.”

“What were you hoping to do for your friend?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“It’s not important. She wasn’t expecting it, so hopefully, I can make it work with the next check.” I wiped the remnants of my personal tantrum from my cheek with the back of my hand before standing to make my exit.

“Don’t run off so fast. Why are you always in such a hurry to get away from me? Do I smell?” he asked before sniffing under his arms.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

“Bat in the cave?” he questioned, using the glass behind us as a mirror to look up his nose for anything hanging.

I giggled and again, shook my head.

“Bad breath?”

“No. None of those things.”

“Then what? You take off like your ass is on fire every time I’m near. What gives?”

“It’s not you.”

“I’m waiting…” He stood there, expecting more of an explanation. This was what happened when people were too pretty. They were accustomed to getting their way; people treated them a certain way. They had expectations. And here I was about to cater to those things because no matter how hard I tried to hide from him, his eyes drew me out. The warmth in their cold color was an anomaly I couldn’t resist.

“I just need to get home. I can’t miss the bus, or I’ll have to wait an hour for the next one.” It was honest, not terribly open, but truthful.

“There are buses every fifteen minutes, and besides, I have a car. I can take you home.”

“My route only comes once an hour.” I was agitated. I couldn’t blame him. He likely assumed I rode the bus to one of the many apartments around the area—not to the outskirts of town in the projects. He couldn’t know—no one knew. Especially not looking at me. Even outdated fashion was still fashion, and when my clothes were new, they were quite expensive. “Look. I really have to go.” But just as I turned around to leave, I watched my bus pull away from the curb. My shoulders rounded in defeat, and I dropped my head.

“Gia, it’s okay. I don’t mind driving you home.” He stepped in front of me, and for whatever reason, I leaned into his chest with my forehead. The scent of maple syrup filled my nostrils, and I wondered how anyone could smell like breakfast. His hands met my shoulders and pushed me back to make eye contact. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”

“It is to me. I’ll wait for the next bus.”

“That’s crazy. Come on. We can have you at your front door before the next bus comes.”

“I appreciate it, but I’ll wait at the stop.” I started to walk off, but before I got two steps away, he grabbed my hand.

“What gives? I just want to get you home safely.”

My frustration had reached a breaking point. “I don’t want you to know where I live,” I half-hollered at him. It was loud enough to cause the few people who lingered in front of the building to stop and stare.