Dark Romanticism

VI

VI

“What?” India whisper yelled at me. 

“I know! Me—a murderer?” I leaned in towards her and whispered, “The only person I’ve ever called a bitch to their face is you.”

India’s head dipped back and laughter poured out. 

The surrounding people at Zoka’s turned to look at us and I kept my head down hoping they would all just continue drinking their coffee. 

“Maybe you should stay at my place. You know, so you have an alibi.”

I sighed. Last time I stayed with India I woke up only too find their was a threesome going on in my bed. Who the hell does that? India does, I guess. 

“You’re thinking about the threesome, aren’t you?” she raised a brow and shook her head. “How many times do I have to tell you? I was drunk as hell and I didn’t think you’d wake up!” 

“I can’t handle having this argument again. Anyway, I think I might have to. Either that or go to jail.”

“Okay, I’ll clear the guest bedroom. See you tonight?” 

I stirred my coffee, “Yep, I get off at five. I have to work on this project though for school after. I’ll probably leave at seven. My car is gonna be in the shop overnight so I’ll walk home and get some things then you could pick me up at my place. You get off at nine, right?”

“Yeah, well sort of. I have a meeting with an author—we’re getting drinks,” she shrugged. 

“Okay,” I nodded towards her and looked down at my watch. “Shit, I have to leave.”

“Don’t you start at one? It’s only eleven thirty,” India’s eyebrow bunched and I smiled apologetically. 

“I have to drop the car off then walk over to Marty’s. Your lunch is almost over anyway.” 

“Fine. See you later.”

                                                                           ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

“I need two pancake plates over easy!” I yelled into the window. 

It was my last dish of the night and I was anxious to be done. The night had been long and tedious. The old heater on Marty’s had gone out and the restaurant was sitting at forty degrees. On top of freezing my ass off, the customers would not stop bitching the whole night. If the don’t like it then they should leave. 

I can’t believe I have to stay here for another two hours with Sara. We could go somewhere else, but I’d be farther from my apartment then I’d want. 

“Can I get some coffee?” 

I snapped out of my daze and met the eyes of Sara, who was now sitting at the bar grinning at me. 

“Sorry, I’m a little early. I have an eight a.m. class tomorrow and I’d like to get home as early as possible,” she explained. 

“Oh, no. You’re fine. I’m just waiting for this table’s—”

“Here’s your damn pancakes, Killer!” Janine yelled from behind me and I groaned. 

“Thanks Janine!” I smiled at Sara and turned to give table nineteen their food. 

I smiled as I approached the young boy and his father, “Here you are. Did you need anything else?” I asked as I assessed their drinks and condiments. 

“No, thanks lady,” the little boy grinned at me before drowning his cake sin syrup. 

“Okay, well you guys have a good night! If you need anything else, Lola will be able to help you.” With that, I turned on my heel and went to join Sara at the bar. 

“So, what kind of thumbnails did you come up with?” I asked. 

“Well, I had this one idea where we have a man sitting in the pope’s chair, but he doesn’t have any definitive features. Then there’s bodies surrounding him.”

“Okay, that sounds cool. Well, my favorite idea that I thought of was kind of the same thing. Except we enlarge the whole thing. Instead of just the throne, I want to see the killer in a whole room. We can have pictures hanging in frames of the victims. Actual pictures. Then we can have the people of Seattle observing it in fear.”

Sara sat there gaping at me. “Wow, that’s...”

“You don’t like it?” I asked, unsure. Maybe I went to dark. 

“No, that’s—it’s, um.... You really have been in art school longer than me.”

I laughed, “Yeah. It might be a little to literal though.”

“Well, I think that Velázquez’s painting of the pope was quite literal as well. It’s fitting.”

“Yeah, you’re—”

“Excuse me, Miss?” 

Without glancing backyard I said, “Sorry, I’m off the clock.” I rolled my eyes and Sara smiled. “Anyway—”

A cold hand pressed onto my shoulder. I turned to face the girl this time. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she smiled at me. 

“For what?” I asked confused. 

“Last night, in the alley,” she raised her brow. 

Oh. I had forgotten about her. Now, I could recognize the girl. Up close she looked older, still young, but maybe wise for her years. Her hair was blonde and coming down in curls down he back and her blue eyes were an intense slate color. 

“My name is Dreanna,” she held out her hand to me and I smiled as I took it. 

“Nice to meet you.” For some reason, as natural as it seemed, I didn’t tell her my name. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “My boyfriend just got in a fight. He wants to talk about it and I don’t.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Why do I need to know this? 

“What!” Sara yelled out by me. 

I turned to her only to find that she was frantically gathering her things. “Are you okay?” I asked. 

“No! Yes! My mom just texted me—my sister is in labor. I have to go. I’m sorry—I love your idea though. I’ll see you Thursday in class!” Sara grabbed her notebook and ran out of the diner. 

“Good luck!” I yelled after her, not really knowing of she heard me or not. 

“Anyway, I was saying,” Dreanna paused and waited for me to turn to her. “I truly appreciate it. You see he just doesn’t approve of some things I’ve been doing lately.”

I shook my head. How did I start talking to this girl? “What? Like partying?” I asked eyeing the young girl. 

 “Yeah, you could call it that,” she shrugged and smiled at me. Suddenly I felt my eyes drawn completely into hers. “So, I was wondering if I could stay at your place. Until I figure things out.”

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