blue eyes

Chapter 1

Zoe:
Head pounding, Zoe trudged up the subway stairs while shuffling through her purse for her apartment keys. After tripping over a step halfway up, she paused to gather herself. A brief survey of her surroundings paralyzed her. The music was all wrong. There were too few cars on the street above her. The air filling her lungs should reek of Chinese food and cigarettes, not vomit and liquor. After climbing to the top and looking around, her fears were confirmed. She had gotten on the wrong train.
Closing her eyes in frustration, Zoe started categorizing her current weaknesses. Dead phone. No cash. No idea when another train is coming. No cash for another ticket anyway. When that got too depressing, she switched to her strengths. Good with directions. At least I should know where I am, I think. She opened her eyes and scanned for a street sign. Crap, is this that 14th St?
"Hey baby, you need a ride somewhere?"
The proposition and accompanying male laughter confirmed her fears that this was in fact that 14th St. Glancing across the street, she counted seven large men standing together and eyeing her outside the grungy dive bar from which the loud rock music was pulsing.
Crap.
"Jonesy, here, got a big car. We can get you wherever you need to go without havin' to stop along the way." More laughter.
Crap. CRAP. Are they coming over here?
Shoving one of her shaking hands into her purse, Zoe dug for her pepper spray, but found it caught on one of her spiral-bound notebooks. CRAP.
Zoe looked down momentarily and attempted to dislodge the keychain to no avail. Suddenly, a pair of tattered Nikes came into view in front of her. CRAAAAAP.
Putting on the bravest face she could muster, she looked up, expecting to find one of the creepy guys from across the street. Instead she found herself looking into the piercing blue eyes of an incredibly tall homeless man.
"You're not safe here," he said in a surprisingly clear voice, although Zoe wasn't positive that she actually saw his mouth move under his big, bushy beard. "Where are you trying to go?"
"M-M-Midtown," she replied nervously.
"God, how'd you end up here," he scoffed.
"I guess I wasn't paying attention and got on the wrong train at Central," she found herself answering. "And I don't have my train pass to catch another. I used the last of my cash on this ride."
The man sent an incredibly intimidating glare at the cat callers across the street, took Zoe's hand, and started walking away from the subway entrance. For a few moments, Zoe followed him blindly, then realized what she was doing and stopped in her tracks.
"Wait a second," she said, yanking her hand out of his, "Why am I following you? Where are you taking me? How do I know that your intentions are any better than the creeps outside the bar? I need to catch a train back into the city. I-"
"There won't be another train at this stop for at least an hour," he answered. "And a nice girl like you wouldn't survive down there alone for 10 minutes. I'm taking you to a busier street where we will have a better chance of getting you a cab. As for why you seem to trust me, I expect that you got lost in my killer blue eyes. They tend to have that effect on women."
Taken aback by his frankness and flirting, Zoe got a hold of herself, then considered her options. When nothing sounded even remotely as promising as blue eyes' plan, she sighed.
"Does that sigh mean that you're ready to trust me again?" The creases around his eyes indicated that a smile might be hiding under the beard.
"I don't seem to have a choice," Zoe replied. When he held out his hand, she took it and followed him up the street away from the bar.
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Once they were a few blocks up the street, the music from the dive bar had faded and was slowly being replaced with other city sounds: traffic, sirens, people moving. The man was still moving quickly, but his grip on Zoe's hand had relaxed.
"This is the financial district," he said, breaking the silence. "Once we get to 7th, we should be able to get you a cab. I'm assuming you have a credit card?"
"That's a bit personal, don't you think," Zoe retorted.
"Look," he sighed, "If I was going to mug you, I would be taking you away from one of the most populated street in the city, not towards it. My intentions in asking are merely functional."
He is awfully well-spoken and lucid for a homeless man, Zoe thought as she pulled out her wallet, forgetting that the entire contents of her purse were in a tangled mess. Everything came spilling out onto the sidewalk around them, just as the homeless man hailed her a cab.
"Ugh, today is so not my day," Zoe muttered, letting go of hiss hand and squatting down  grabbing up her belongings.
"You comin', sugar," the cabbie hollered.
"Just one second," she replied, shoving her notebooks back into her purse and pulling out a credit card before turning to her escort.
"I think my work here is done," he said, handing Zoe her keys and pepper spray. "Although, now that I have seen the contents of your purse, I bet you could have taken those jerks at the bar without my help."
"Ha! I appreciate not having to find out just yet," Zoe laughed. "What's your name?"
"Oh, um, it's Brandon," he answered, visibly flustered by her question.
"Well, Brandon," she said as she held out her hand, "Thank you so much for your protection and guidance in the wake of my train error. I actually haven't ever used my pepper spray and I appreciate not having to learn how just yet."
"I'm sure you will find yourself more than capable if that time ever comes," Brandon smiled as he shook her hand.
Zoe flopped into the backseat of the cab and rattled off her address. The cabbie peeled away, which gave Zoe only a few seconds to wave at Brandon. He returned her wave just as the cab turned a corner. Zoe sighed and settled down into the backseat to watch the meter eat up the rest of her grocery budget.