Secondhand Girlfriend

.21

I put the pen between my teeth as I turn the page in my mathbook, and put an 'x' through the last two problems. Advanced Calculus never gets any easier, I'm just scraping the bottom of a B-. Closing the book, I rub my right temple to calm the pounding in head. With a quick glance at the clock on the wall, I see that I've been working on this assignment for nearly an hour and a half. I drag myself out of bed and groan when my stomach growls, when was the last time I ate?

Making my way down the stairs, I pop my head into the front and see my father cuddled up with Jessica. I gag a bit at them, then go back to my intended destination, the kitchen. A smile comes to my face when I open the fridge, we actually have food in here, yay, a happy little rich boy I am! Grabbing the bag of pizza rolls, I put the whole bag on two cooking sheets and pop them in the oven. I'm not just hungry, I'm high as fuck and food is all I need right now. Well food, and this body numbing pain in my chest to go away.

I've been thinking too much lately, mostly about Lisanna and I's relationship. Can it even be called a relationship, we never made it past a month so it was more like a fling. What had I done wrong, should I have said something when Maurice confessed his love for her? Tucking my lips between my teeth, I think about what Lisanna had said in the hospital parking lot. Right before she told me she loved me, she was thinking of him, thinking of Maurice. Closing my eyes, I try to refrain myself from crying about it. To think that in the span of four months, I've cried over Lisanna more than I've ever cried in my life.

My phone surprises me when it vibrates in my pocket, and I hurry up to take it out as I answer the call.

"House of Beauty, this is Cutie, how may I help you," I say into the receiver.

"I must have the wrong number, I'm sorry," a female voice apologises.

"Who ya calling for sweetheart, maybe I can help."

I play the part of Cutie, and I play it damn good as she begins to speak again. Shit, I think my new job may just be at a brothel house, that's how well I'm doing.

"Well, I was looking for this guy who gave me his number a few days ago, Kieran. But this isn't it."

My eyebrows furrow at what girl I could have given my number, but nothing really rings a bell. So I continue to play the part of Cutie, once again, I play it damn good.

"Alright, honey, what's ya name? I'm sure I can find it in one of our little black books."

I hear the girl gasp, and then she says something that makes my body go rigid.

"O my Nefertiti, um, my name's Porcelain."

Even after she said her name, I just stood there frozen in place. She popped into my head instantly, not the heartbreak or the pregnancy, her. The way she smiled so wide it made even my cheeks hurt, or how she sang along to whatever song was playing from the spinning vinyl on her record player. There was the way her English accent became thicker when she said the word pop or orange, and then the way she looked when she sang on stage; it was like nothing I'd ever witnessed before. I missed her.

"Hello, Cutie," the girl squeaks.

"I'm sorry, honey," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat, "can you repeat that for me."

"Porcelain, my name is Porcelain."

And somehow, I forget what I was upset about. Clearing my throat, I use my normal voice to speak to her again. First though, I put the call on mute as I laugh at her for believing me; she's cute.

"Hey, um this is going to sound weird, but it's Kieran," I disclose finally, scratching the back of my neck as I also chuckle a bit.

"You stay with prostitutes," Porcelain asks incredulously.