Not sure if this really advances the plotline any... a lot of setup and a bit of off-subject rambling... Not really tight writing... I should really edit about half of this out... Oh, well... enjoy! (And review...)

Yesterday

The phone rang, jilting Nita from her drifting thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Nita? It's Brandon. We're still on for this evening?"

"Yeah, 6:30, right?"

"Just making sure. Oh, and wear something dressy... I want to take you out to a nice restaurant."

"Um...okay."

"Well... see you later then."

"Looking forward to it."

"Me too."

Nita placed the phone back in its cradle and made quickly for the stairs. Something dressy? For a nice restaurant? How nice? I don't have anything suitable for—

Nita stopped. She did have something. She rushed to her closet and began to dig for small, black cocktail dress she had bought on clearance a couple months ago. She had no definite plans to wear it at the time—perhaps to a school dance eventually. But she had fallen in love with it—it fit marvelously, clinging softly to her waist and hips before swirling out slightly above her knees. Folds of fabric gathered around her neck, then dipped low down her back. She pulled out the dress triumphantly.

x-x-x

An hour later, she flung the curling iron down on the bathroom counter and sighed despondently. How had her mother managed such perfect hairstyles with so little effort? Nita had tried for an hour to form her hair into some semblance of nicety. Instead, she had secured a few haphazard curls amidst a lot of frizz. What was she going to do?

Whatcha doin'? Kit asked.

I can't talk right now, Nita insisted.

With lover-boy?

No... getting ready and having a hell of a time with it.

When do I get to meet the beloved Brandon

Not right now, Kit, she repeated.

Wow. You really are uptight. Relax. What's wrong?

Just stressed... I'm supposed to meet Brandon in less than a hour... I'm supposed to look 'nice', but I'm a mess... I can't get my hair to do anything...

What do you normally do to it?

Nothing. Wash it... ponytail it... maybe a bun...

Well, it normally looks great, so why are you trying to do anything different to it?

Because it's not nice!

Yes, it is... Kit attempted to reassure her.

Thanks, Kit, but no help...

You don't believe me?

Nope.

Why not?

Because you're Kit, and you have to say things like that.

I do not.

You'd tell me I was ugly?

Never.

Looked fat in a dress?

Absolutely not

See?

I value my life. But your hair normally does look fine. I can't take much more of this. Have fun with your sweetie pie! He broke the connection.

Nita laughed. Good ole Kit. She looked in the mirror one more time. Her hair did look a lot worse for her efforts. She stuck her head under the sink, then squeezed her hair with a towel. She brushed it smooth, twisted it into a bun, and secured it with a hair tie. It wasn't too fancy, but neither was it hideous. Struck with hopeful aspiration, she tugged two short strands of hair out of the bun and, tongue peaking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, carefully curled the strands to frame her face. Perfect.

Quickly, she unplugged the curling iron, slipped the dress over her head, and began a fierce debate with herself.

Hose or no hose? I hate hose... but they're dressy... mom would say I needed hose with this dress... oh... but I do so hate hose... no hose!

That decided, she grabbed a sparkly pair of flip-flops from her closet.

These are dressy, right? Damn it, perhaps I should have paid more attention to all that fashion crap. Oh, well...they're much more comfortable than the heels. Now, make-up?

She glanced at herself in the mirror.

Not too hideous. No make-up.

Satisfied, she grabbed a small black purse from her dresser, a Christmas gift she thought she'd never use, stuffed in a few essentials, and pulled out her manual. She flipped rapidly through its pages, checking coordinates and searching for an unoccupied location at or near the bus station. That done, she began her transit circle. A small pop!of air later, she appeared in an empty bathroom stall.

She quickly left the stall, checked her reflection one more time in the mirror, and hurried out to look for Brandon.

x-x-x

"I had a lovely time," Nita commented as she and Brandon left the restaurant. "Thank you for dinner."

"No problem." Brandon slipped his arm around her waist. Nita relaxed into his embrace, full of delicious food and drunk with first love. "What now?"

Nita glanced at the orange and pink streaked sky. "I don't know. I have plenty of time before I need to get home, though."

"Want to come over to my apartment? I rented Collateral, but I haven't watched it yet. It's supposed to be really good."

"Uh..." Nita hesitated. Suspicion was instinctive—she had read too many stories of men luring young girls to their apartments.

Oh, come on...part of her mind urged her. This is Brandon. He's not a random stranger off the street. You've known him for several weeks, and he hasn't even tried to kiss you yet. I don't think he's going to force you into anything. And even if he tries, you've got millions of ways to defend yourself or get away instantly.

"I'd love to."

x-x-x-x-x

Present

Nine hours ago, all he had to worry about was her hair. She laughed aloud at this irony, but it was a bitter, painful laugh.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Ignoring her intuition again. She could have prevented this mess so easily. Of course, hindsight is always 20/20. What the hell was she going to do?

Just go home, Nita, her rational voice piqued up. Just trace out the coordinates, go home, and go to bed.

Yeah, like she could sleep now.

More of a chance than you'll have here.

But her family...

Is out of town.

And Kit...

Tell him in the morning.

But what will he think? What will he say?

Who knows? But you've been in tough scrapes before. Let him help you.

It almost seemed to Nita that she was arguing with someone other than herself. Sighing, she drew herself up and began the draw the coordinates.

The apartment door opened.

"Leaving so soon?"