~Info and Part 1~
Name: Rita Scott
Age: 23
Height: 5'9"
Looks: Dirty blond hair to my waist, bangs to my cheek bones. Grey eyes. Pale, fair skin.
Personality: Always seeking adventure and mystery, friendly, modest, a little bit on the shy side but, when threatened, will not go down without a fight.
Background: An actress who's been in films and on stage. Doesn't consider herself famous, even though everyone else does. Life has been disappointing in the romantic sense of things, but more on that later. She's almost been kidnapped, rapped, and/or killed at least 6 times, so she's anything but unprepared. Riding the transcontinental train - the Flying Pussyfoot – from Chicago to New York so that she can star on Broadway.
And now we begin.
…
I set my suitcases down on the platform and took a good look at the beautiful train.
The Flying Pussyfoot
It was built like the trains they have in Europe. The only difference is that the first class riders were at the front of the train rather than at the end. Probably for high security.
I looked around at my fellow passengers.
There was a couple. For some unfathomable reason, the man was dressed like a cowboy and the girl wore a flamenco dress. They seemed a little over excited.
An older woman, the wife to Senator Barium, was with her daughter, Marie, making sure that she understood the rules.
There was a small group of four. One girl with and eye patch, a young boy with a sword tattoo on the side of his face, a blond man, and a tan man who looked about 6'5".
There was a huge group of people dress completely in black hanging around the baggage car. There was only one girl and she and a blond man seemed to be in charge.
Another large group of people were dress completely in white. A loud blond man seemed to be their leader and his girl friend followed him every where.
All mystery books that I loved to read had taught me to be aware of my surroundings and pay attention to details.
But this did not prepare me for what caught my eye after the group in white.
A man.
He was standing towards the front of the train, wearing a conductor's uniform. Under his hat I saw ginger hair and his eyes were a piercing red. And he was staring straight at me. Smirking.
I had been used to people looking at me and gossiping behind my back but the way that he looked at me was different. He didn't look at me like he knew who I was. He looked at me like he wanted to know who I was.
In real life, I was not used to men looking at me in such a sincere way. So, I decided to play along.
I flashed the young conductor my sweetest smile and gave him a wink. After all, there was nothing wrong with a little flirting. Plus, if I ran into him again, it could make things interesting.
The conductor tapped the bill of his cap, giving me a silent good evening as he nodded.
With that, I turned so that he could see me walk away and put my suitcases in the baggage car.
…
It was five minutes before the train was set to leave the station.
I had gotten my self comfortable in my compartment of the first class car.
I removed my white fox fur coat and revealed my ankle length emerald green paisley dress. The short sleeves and skirt flowed well and the dress was fitted at my hips.
My hair was in a long braid with my bangs pinned to the right side of my face so that they wouldn't cover my eyes.
I was reading I was reading Agatha Christie's very first Miss Marple mystery, The Tuesday Night Club. It was my absolute favorite mystery and whenever I needed something to read, I always picked it up. As a result, it was rather beat up.
I was completely engrossed in the mystery when there was a knock on my compartment door. I looked up and found the young conductors face peeking at me through the window. What luck?
He slid the door opened and gave me a smile before saying, in a clear New York Accent, "Your ticket, please, miss?"
I gave him a smile before opening my clutch bag and grabbed my ticket as well as a folded up five dollar bill. I made sure that the bill was hidden under the ticket when he grabbed both. He gave me a look, obviously wondering what the bill was for. I just gave him a wink that meant that it was a tip.
He gave me a smirk before saying, "I'm, afraid, I also need to do a bag check, miss."
"That's fine." I grabbed my two suitcases from the top rack and let him look through them.
One suitcase had a few of my mystery books and, when the conductor saw them, he said, "You have and interesting taste in books, miss."
"What's wrong with a good mystery?"
"Nothing. It's just young ladies like you don't usually like these scary stories."
"I'm not like other 'young ladies'."
This made both of us smirk, flirtatiously.
He closed both my suitcases once he was done searching and returned them to the upper rack.
Right as he was walking out of my compartment, my book dropped to the floor. He, graciously picket it up and handed it to me. I nodded my thanks.
"I hope you enjoy the ride, miss."
"I'm confident I will. Thank you."
He tapped his cap and left.
I gave a satisfied sigh and looked back at my book.
And there, sticking out of the top of the book, was the five dollar tip I had slipped him.
I shook my head and smiled.
'What an intriguing man.'