Hello all! New chapter; not much more to say than a big thanks to all new followers and a thanks for any and all reviews! Love you guys-hope to hear from all of you soon! Also, a big shout out to the SPRP Cast who have recently become readers! I'M SO EXCITED YOU GUYS LIKE IT
ok ok ...enjoy 3
While Kenny ate like a barbarian, Wendy preoccupied herself by picking at her lean cuisine (some sad excuse for pork pot stickers and rice) and painting her nails. She'd chosen a matte teal color that came out in thick, even coats. No sparkles, no shiny gloss, just pure, thick color that colored her long, perfect nail beds. Kenny's loud chomping and slurping of food was easily drowned out while she performed the therapeutic activity. Every brush stroke from bottom to top, doing so slow as to not get any of the tender skin around it. She had her clear bottle of top coat sitting right beside her, ready to complete them once they were dry enough.
"So are you gonna buy a new phone?" Kenny asked through a mouthful of taco.
"I think I know where it is." She said, not looking up from her paint and using her free hand to stick a pot sticker on her fork. "I just have to go get it."
"I thought you went through the drive thru?" he wiped his mouth with the flimsy paper napkin.
"I did." She delicately placed the food in her mouth, chewing entirely and swallowing before speaking again. "I made a quick stop and left it there."
"Where did you stop?"
"Are you going to pester me until I tell you?"
"Mhm."
"You know that new creepy house?" she asked with a sigh. "Damien lives there. I saw him at the club last night and we talked. He left his cigarettes so I thought I would go by and drop them off for him."
"Damien? That creepy little dude we went to school with?" Kenny whistled his surprise. "Hot Damn. I'd almost forgot he even existed."
"Well he does. And he's kind of an asshole." She told him, moving on to her clear coat of polish. "And now he has my phone and I have no way of getting in touch with anyone."
"So go get it back." He said as he attacked his burrito. "He doesn't know anybody around here; he's bound to be home."
"I don't want to see him. Didn't you hear me call him an asshole?"
"Yeah, but who cares? I'm an asshole. You still hang out with me."
"It's different, Ken." She finished her lean cuisine in two small bites. A pile of the slightly crunchy, flavorless rice remained but she'd lost her appetite. "I'll worry about it tomorrow before I go to work."
Kenny shrugged as he dunked his burrito in the bowl of sauce he'd made for himself. They moved back into a comfortable silence as Wendy focused hard on the color of her nails. It kept the thoughts of her anger and the reasons for it out of her head, although all the concentrating was giving her a migraine.
She wasn't paying close enough attention to the actual task, though. She smeared top coat over a still wet nail, leaving a goopy mess in its wake. She cursed inwardly, hoping somewhere, Damien had a horrible stomach ache or some other form of mild punishment for ruining her nails and her day.
Wendy woke up early the next morning and dressed quietly for work. She chose a pair of her favorite black jeans and a dark green button down. Her clean, glossy hair was pulled into a high pony tail with her signature purple beret perched on the back of her head. She spritzed on her Dream Angels perfume, basking in the clean smell as she packed up her purse and got ready to rush out the door. As soon as her black, non slip shoes were secured, she was out the door and in her car before she had the chance to feel the cold. She was notoriously good for getting in her car and beating the temperature to her bones. She drove up without hesitation to the gloomy house, storming up to the front door and thundering on the door knocker. She didn't care it was barely nine in the morning. She crossed her arms and waited, finally hearing the hollowing tapping of footsteps from within. The heavy door opened, revealing the groggy Damien. In that brief moment, she felt the passing horror of having woken his parents or a sibling instead.
She vaguely remembered Damien talking about his dad, but like most of her childhood memories, it was nothing more than a blurry nameless shit show.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he hissed at her.
His hair was ruffled from lying down and he only had a pair of, what else, black sleep pants on. His other wise bare body was exposed and daunting over, emitting a warmth from being cocooned under the covers.
"Good morning!" she said brightly, giving him her flashiest smile. "It seems I left my cell phone here yesterday. May I have it back?"
She extended her hand, showing him her bare palm and continued to smile simply at him. The pair locked gazes, as if waiting for the other to crack and act accordingly. Wendy gave her head a slight tilt, her eye ablaze as if to dare him to mess with her. Finally, Damien sighed loudly, dropping his tired head and disappeared back into the grand house. Wendy would have followed him inside, but that wouldn't have been polite. Besides, now she was worried she might have stirred a sleeping parent or two and the embarrassment would have been killer.
Damien reappeared, holding her purple and black phone. He held it out to her and she beamed graciously.
"Oh thank you." She said, gushingly. "I appreciate it. Now why don't you go back to sleep? You look peaked."
She turned on her heel, grinning wickedly to herself as she stared back down the narrow steps. But before she could reach the bottom, his deep, tired voice called out to her.
"Forgetting something?" he asked her with a cruel smile in his words.
Wendy cocked her eyebrow and turned to look at him over her shoulder. She kept the sugary sweet look on her face.
"What might that be?" she asked patiently, not in the mood for games.
Damien put his hand down in his pocket and plucked her light purple bic out and wiggled it around in her line of vision. Wendy felt her eyes widen and she tried her best to keep her stride paced as she hurried back towards him.
"Oh yeah." She said, trying to sound offhandedly. "That silly thing. I'll take that back."
"Silly?" he held it just out of her reach. "Well if it's silly, I'll just throw it out for you. You know, just trying to be neighborly."
"Not necessary." She insisted, reaching up for it, feeling the plastic bottom touching her fingertips before it was plucked out of her reach again. "I can do that myself."
"I insist!" he said with a false sweetness that made her want to round house kick him in the face. "It's only right after upsetting you."
"You didn't upset me!" her voice went up an octane higher as she falsified a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous! No! I was just hungry; puts me in a mood every time."
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked her, smirking. "All dressed up at nine in the morning? Work, I'm assuming? You don't need this foolishness holding you up."
"Damien." She said, becoming exhausted from jumping up and down like a neurotic bunny rabbit. "Please give it to me."
"Get mad for me." He told her simply without any infliction.
She couldn't tell if he was doing it to spite her or if he genuinely enjoyed watching people get upset. Wendy stared, confused.
"No." she told her shortly. "Why would I—"
"If you want this stupid thing back, you're going to need to prove to me how badly you want it." He told her in a way like one might talk to a thick headed child. "Now get to it or I'll melt it down. Or are you into that too?"
He was pushing her buttons and Wendy really wanted to turn around and go buy another at the gas station, but she gave in. Her let her temper come over her like a thunderous wave and she spoke through clenched teeth.
"Give me the fucking lighter." She told him in a heated hiss. "Before I choke you on your own dick."
"Now that's more like it!" Damien spoke excitedly. "Tell me more!"
"This isn't funny!" she stomped her foot and jumped again. "Give me the fucking thing!"
"No, you haven't earned it yet."
She nearly got it from him this time. Her hand knocked into his and the lighter dropped out of his hands on impact. It hit the floor, the metallic part on top popping off and breaking when it hit the rickety porch floor. Wendy gasped and she bent to grab it.
"Shithead!" she snapped at him, throwing the broken pieces at him. "Look what you did!"
"It wasn't on purpose." He told her in a firm voice. There was something in his eyes. Maybe an apology? "It's not like you don't have a hundred more at home."
"I don't." she snapped at him. How could he understand the embarrassment she felt when buying a new one? Feeling like she was putting her dirty habit on display. "Fuck face." She snarled as she stormed off, leaving the smashed pieces in her wake.
He called out to her, but she had no interest in anything he wanted to say. She had driven off by the time he'd gotten to where her vehicle and was half way to work before she began to cry.
Work successfully cheered Wendy up. The overhead PA system was working again, supplying them with current, upbeat country music to work to. Wendy even found herself dancing around a little with her tray over her head, much to the amusement of the three year old at the table she was serving lunch to. The PA system had been quiet and still for almost six months now. Weekdays the silence didn't matter much, but on weekends when things got busy, the staff relied on the out-of-date jukebox by the bar which spewed 50's, 60's, and 70's hits exclusively. The patrons weren't fans needless to say, especially after three or four or five beers. No, they hadn't had access to a decent sound system until now; after Heidi turner spilled her doctor pepper all over the panel of the speakers, it had never worked quite right again.
Wendy looked over at Heidi who was busy busing her table. She had the same pale brown hair and chubby cheeks she had in elementary school. The only real difference now was she was taller, almost 5'7, and very thick in the hips. She gave Wendy a sad smile as she tucked her meager one dollar tip into her apron and continued on to her other table. Heidi was getting ready to transfer to some fancy college on the east coast. She hoped she would do well there; she hadn't entirely blossomed under South Park's cloudy skies.
But then again, what flower could develop in sunless conditions?
But wiggled her butt a little while she picked up a few dirty cups, unable to ignore the fun melody of the Brad Paisley song. The two older women she was serving giggled and Wendy beamed at them, knowing she'd just sealed herself a nice tip.
Yes, it was always a much better shift during the day than during the night. She'd much rather wait on tired mothers with fussy children, older couples and aged friends than drunk men and sloppy teenagers. There were no crude comments during the day and no sorry attempts to grab at any of her naughty bits. People weren't so brave in the daylight, she had decided.
The front door chimed and she heard Nicole, another South Park lifer, whistle an attracted sound. She looked over at the shapely African American girl who gave her a cold look. Wendy and Nicole didn't get along ever since she had dated Token. Apparently, only black people can date black people and Wendy was obviously too light skinned. But she was still polite to the girl, smiling and greeting her every day as if there were nothing wrong.
Watching the twisted look of confusion in Nicole's pretty features was actually one of Wendy's favorite past times. The dumb, racist bitch.
Gregory had entered the establishment, wearing an off white button down with the sleeves rolled half way up. His khakis were ironed and creaseless; he was a glowing example of a perfect human specimen and flawless laundry handling.
"Ok. You're stalking me." She joked as he slid into a small booth and she handed him a menu.
"Last I checked, stalker's don't check with a girl's best friend for her work address. I think stalkers are bit more sneaky."
"No. I think that just makes you a stalker who knows your facts." She informed him thusly.
"Well, so what if I am?" he chuckled, giving her an innocent bat of the eyes. "It could be much worse, love. I could awful to look at and creepy to boot."
There was that charming accent; it made her smile.
"Who said you weren't an eyesore?" she teased.
"That sparkling look on your face when you see me." He replied smoothly, cracking open the menu to look at the glossy pictures beneath him.
Wendy turned her head to hide her blush then pulled out her notepad to take his order.
"Want a drink?"
"Just an unsweetened tea, if you please." He checked his bulky wristwatch. "And….hm. Let's see how you all recreate fish and chips."
Wendy laughed and nodded, scribbling everything down as quickly as she could and then put it in the window to be filled. She got him his tea quickly, somehow remembering he liked a lot of lemon. He smiled warmly when she placed it in front of him.
"Thank you." He said warmly. "Can you sit a spell? Or are you busy?"
Wendy looked up; her section had finally cleared out. She had just waved off the friendly women who left her a hefty seven dollar tip. Heidi was sitting on a bar stool with her nose in a book and Nicole was boredly flirting with the chef. She nodded.
"I think I have time." She slid in the booth across from him. "So Gregory, what on earth brings you back to South Park?"
"This and that." There was that evasive nature to his voice. "I have no definite plans; staying here until the next location catches my fancy. I'm a wanderer, I suppose. What about you, Wendy?" he leaned forward. "Why are you still HERE?"
"Saving money mostly." She answered honestly; there was no use in lying. "I'd like to travel someday, maybe live in Boston for a while. I just….no one ever left." She managed a beaming smile. "And where would they all be without me making sure they didn't wander off a mountain?"
"Or into a raging fire."
"Exactly."
Gregory laughed in that light, simple dulcet voice of his that eased her tense bodies. She felt her shoulders tighten further, if that was even possible.
"You're rich, Wendy." He told her earnestly. "I'd almost forgotten that. Then again, the last time we saw each other in person wasn't on the best terms was it?"
Wendy opened her mouth to agree but then clamped it shut again. She…didn't remember? She remembered his parents moving away and him going with them. She remembered sharing a silly children's kiss with him somewhere in a faded portrait of a memory, but that was all. And she remembered being angry, but she chalked it up to silly, child righteous anger which held as much water as a bucket full of holes.
"You don't remember?" Gregory seemed surprised.
Wendy shook her head, no.
"I have a lot of trouble remembering details of being a kid." She confided in him. "But so does everyone, I think. At least everyone I know. Well, except Kenny. But Kenny—"
"Is a basket case." Gregory joked. "That's unusual, Wendy. From what I understood, you all encountered some interesting things in your youth."
Wendy shrugged her shoulders.
"Nothing more out of the ordinary than anybody else." She said, still having trouble recalling. It was beginning to pester her.
Gregory seemed genuinely surprised by her last statement as she excused herself, grabbing the food from the window for him. She gave it the once over; the fish pieces were large and crispy and there was an abundance of fresh French fries that had been salted with a heavy hand. She grabbed a bottle of malt vinegar in favor over tartar sauce and delivered it to him with a grin.
"How quick!" he mused. "It looks delicious."
"The food here is decent." She promised as she sat back down. "I think you'll find it good; I've never had anything bad here. But I usually always just get baked chicken and veggies."
"Healthy eater, are you?" he asked as he popped a French fry into his mouth. She nearly dribbled with envy.
"Very." She said with pleasantries. She was very aware that she had a strand of hair out of place and she was quick to tuck it back into her ponytail. "No junk for me."
"How dedicated!" he mused. "Good for you!"
"Thanks." She chuckled and then her eyes lit up. "Oh! I'm not crazy!"
"I'm glad to hear it."
"No! Remember how I thought I saw that boy, Damien at that night club?" Now she'd caught his attention. He stopped in mid-chew of his fried fish. "He moved in down the street from me! I took his stuff off the table when he disappeared and I took it back to him."
"You've spoken to him?" he asked cautiously. "What's he said to you?"
"Nothing in particular." She said with a frown. "He's kind of a dick, but I mean….just a normal guy, I guess."
"A normal guy." He repeated with a nod of his shaggy blonde head. His pale hair had been slicked back today with a few curls at the nape of his neck. "Doesn't sound too interesting to me. I think your venture may have been in vain, my sweet."
"Maybe." She felt a little sadness that nothing came out of discovering her mysterious stranger. "No matter, I guess."
"On to bigger and better things." Gregory assured her.
At that moment, a woman and her three children entered, in need of a table, menus, and booster seats. Wendy flew into action like a pro, situating them and places their drink orders in just about five minutes. Once they were looking over food options in satisfied silence, she made her way to the table. Gregory was already on his feet, pulling out his wallet. Wendy hadn't noticed the black gloves on his hands until now.
"Keep the rest as tip." He told her, handing her a fifty.
Wendy's eyes bulged and she gapped.
"I…that's far too much, Gregory. I can't accept that."
"Such a doll." He said dreamily. "You're perfect, Wendy. You truly are."
She was glad he thought so. Another happy customer, a wicked version of her own voice hissed in her ear.
"But I insisted." He took his hands, folding hers on the bill. "If anything, pay me back by joining me in ice skating tomorrow. Won't you?"
Wendy laughed and reluctantly agreed. It sounded far too much like a date for her to be comfortable.
"Fine." She sighed heavily and he leaned in, giving her a huge hug.
"I'll see you then." He told her. "We can catch up when you aren't busy serving food."
"Sounds good." She hugged him back, enjoying his warmth.
"Wendy? You smell like smoke."Gregory sounded alarmed and Wendy felt her heart plummet down into the very pit of her stomach.
"It must have been from being at Damien's earlier." She said offhandedly. "I went by to pick up my phone; I'd left it there when I dropped off his things."
He didn't question her. Instead he nodded along, listening intently.
"Of course." He said with no hint of disbelief. "Yes, it makes sense. Its smoke mixed with man, mixed with…well…you."
They both shared another laugh and Gregory was gone out into the snow. Wendy didn't waste any time, cashing in the money and pocketing her heavy tip. She saw Nicole give her an envious look which she returned with a honey sweet smile.
Suck on that, bitch.
The rest of the shift went by quickly. She worked a double, not getting out until almost six o' clock. Wendy was exhausted, her feet aching and her head throbbing from not drinking enough water during the day. She was already daydreaming of taking a long shower and sitting down to a hot meal upon walking in her front door.
As part of her routine, she checked her texts once she was buckled in and before she left the parking lot. A few from Kenny, a missed call from Bebe along with a message to call her back ASAP (something about how "what a dumbass I am.") and then….a text from Damien.
He had saved his number in her phone, the sneaky bastard. The message was simple:
"I need to speak with you."
She rolled her eyes and pushed Bebe's name to call her back. Not a chance was she calling him back.
As she pulled from the parking lot, she never noticed the man sitting on a motorcycle parked behind her. He watched her from behind dark lenses that seemed impractical in the fading light. He finished the last of his imported cigarette, stomping out the butt with him steel toed boot. He was handsome, muscular, and slightly resembled a famous actor from a show about two demon hunting brothers.
He was the same man from the other night, the one Gregory had spoken to outside the club. He started up his bike, keeping his sights set on the Corolla as Wendy lazily drifted around a stop sign, and then peeled out after her.
It seemed that Gregory wasn't the only stalker in South Park that night.