Mrs.Saperstein

Chapter one: Emily

I hugged my parents goodbye as I got in my red Jeep and drove behind the moving guys from my childhood house in Chicago to my new home in Pawnee, Indiana.

It took 2 hours and 48 minutes, but I finally got there. The guys unloaded all my stuff, I paid them, they left, and I settled down in my new house.

After that, I decided to look around at the town I'm now calling home. I made it to a restaurant named Tom's Bistro when I noticed two guys walking out of it. One had dark skin, and the other had probably the craziest hair I've ever seen.

"Thanks for having lunch with me, Jean. And thanks for not inviting Mona Lisa." said the dark-skinned man. "No problem, man. She is the woooooooooooooooooorst. She's the worst in the world." the cray-haired guy said in a sing song voice, smiling.

I couldn't help but laugh at what just happened. This caused the two guys to look at me. The one apparently named 'Jean' walked over to me.

"Jean-Ralphio, how are you?" he smiled, sticking out his hand for me to shake. "Good. I'm Emily Brooks." I introduced myself, shaking his hand.

We started talking and I found out a few things. His full name was Jean-Ralphio Saperstein, he has a twin sister named Mona Lisa Saperstein who's apparently a Kleptomaniac; Pyromaniac; and Nymphomaniac according to him, his father is Lu Saperstein who works as the town's Obstetrician, he and Mona are both bisexual, and he never knew his mother. A hint of sadness flickered in his eyes when he mentioned his mom, so I didn't inquire further on her.

Something started to flutter inside of me. It felt like attraction. I've known Jean for less than 5 minutes and I'm already attracted to him. I just wanted to crash my lips onto his and never let go. I wanted to see him again. An idea then sparked in my head.

"Hey, are you doing anything later?" I asked. "Not particularly. Why?" Jean questioned. "I'd like to hang out with you." I replied.

"I'll save a table for you two." said the dark-skinned man, heading back into the restaurant.

"Does 5:00 work for you?" I asked. When Jean nodded his head yes, I wrote my number on a page of the tiny notebook I keep in my purse and gave it to him.

I said my goodbyes and went home.