Christie

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Part 2: Talk over Lattes

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“You were WHERE?”

The caramel drizzle in my high sugar, calorie intake beverage began to swirl and mix-in with the single dollop of whipped cream and black and orange sprinkles set atop my coffee blend like a blanket of snow. It was a seasonal beverage my favorite coffeehouse made when the weather suited the special blend- Pumpkin-spice caramel chocolate drizzle. I have only taken a small sip of my piping-hot coffee makeover, but so far it is pretty delicious and well made.

“I know you hear me, Chris. Don’t ignore me!”

I rolled my crystallized eyes over to my forgotten book and gave my friend one of those infamous “Not caring so shut the fuck up” looks. “I already told you. Why do you have a habit of repeating things for emphasis?” Helen always was one of those people who would repeat the very same thing that was just said and turn it into a question only to get the same response. That really annoyed me to the point where I wanted to do some amount of bodily harm to the poor girl.

Helen was the only other person in my life, besides my object of adoration, my pet Raja, that had the privilege of getting to know my innermost feelings and thoughts. She was a petite framed woman of a height of five feet even with a body resembling the Greek God’s own Aphrodite. Her platinum shaded hair resembled mine in color, but the length of hers differentiated the two. She was almost identical in my physical features- cold eyes, thin yet luscious pink lips, flawless facial structure with an even more effortless skin complexion. The only con about her was her personality. She may have looked like me, but she acted more like a giddy schoolgirl rather than an aged woman of twenty-four.

“I just wanted to know if I heard right.” she abruptly paused to stir her latte- Wintergreen mint with chocolate drizzle and rainbow sprinkles. It was another seasonal favorite that only came around when it was pronounced “The Holidays”. “You were the one who told me that you were NEVER- and I repeat- NEVER going to sleep with him again. Yet, you do so and are upset that things are still the same?”

“I never said I was upset.” my voice became hard and stern, serious and slightly cold. “I just said that I was a bit surprised that he would just shower and leave the way he did.”

And I was. I wasn’t expecting an extravagant and romantic wake-up call of breakfast in bed with another round of passionate sex to ensue on tousled sheets with excess toast crumbs; but I didn’t think I would wakeup to him not next to me, only to find a note that said: “You were great, thanks.” besides me on his pillow.I may be an assassin and trained to have a calloused heart, but am I not allowed to feel anything?

“Christie, what did you expect? He is the same Bayman you have known for years. Do you honestly think he would change just because of you two were in a “compromising position”?”

Honestly, no, I didn’t. But I didn’t think he would be that much of an inconsiderate jackass to up and leave after a night like that. “I wasn’t expecting change, Helen. I was just expecting something a bit more considerate.” A simple “Good Morning, I am gone. Talk to you soon.” would have been the minimum of what I would take.

Helen sighed and began nibbling on one of her many chocolate-chip cookies that she had ordered. “Maybe, you should tell him how you feel.”

Out of all the unintelligent things she has said to me in our yearlong friendship, that has to be the most dumb, not thought out response she has ever given to me. I know Helen isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the tool shed, but damn. “What do you think this is? We are not on Oprah or Dr. Phil. This is the real world, Helen. Everything isn’t sorted out just because you “talked” about it.”

“It was only a suggestion.”

“That was immediately put in the veto pile of suggested responses from you.”

She let out an exasperated sigh and set her half-eaten treat back down atop of the green and blue porcelain plate in was delivered on, sitting back in her clothed wooden chair with arms placed gently behind her head in a cocky authoritative position. She shook her head delicately and smiled. “Someone is on their period today.”

Alright, that was the most unintelligent, not thought out response to date. “You just need to shut the hell up before my patience wears thin.”

She giggled and flipped back some silver stray hairs that rested upon her woolen shoulder. “Okay, since I annoy you, maybe you should talk to that little blonde kid you made friends with.”

“Friends?” I have hardly any, but carried many associates. “That boy is not my friend.”

“Well, you two are getting close aren’t you?”

If you call an occasional “Hello, how are you.” and a casual “Bye.” here and there close, then yes, we are joined at the hip. “He is just a kid in the tournament that found a liking to me.” I dismissed the thought with a single whisk of my hand in her direction. “Nothing special.”

“But you talk to him yes?” Helen pried for more detail that could give her any leads. “Hmmmm?”

“On occasion, if I feel up to talking to anyone.”

“But that is a yes, hm?”

“Helen…”

“Is it a yes?”

It is times like these where I would love to strangle and choke the platinum haired nuisance to make her shut up and just mind her own goddamn business. She doesn’t see me asking her twenty-one plus questions about her sex life with that bouncer fellow she met at one of the local night-clubs a few weeks back. “Helen….”

“Just talk to him to get your mind off things. He did give you his number if I recall correctly.”

“Helen…”

“What was his name again? Edwin? Edward? Erin?”

“Helen….”

She snapped her fingers from thought and graced my presence with a Cheshire cat grin. “Elliot! That was his name! The little blonde one with all his daddy’s money!”

“Helen!” I shouted out of annoyance and irritation of her constant mouthing that had the venue go deaf in an instant. A few people in the café looked over in our direction to inquire about the fuss, but had their side glances quickly sent away with one of my fierce scowls that signaled that I was not in the mood for any games or bullshit. I made sudden eye-contact with Helen and she gulped nervously with shaky hands. She knew my moods all too well and knew that this one was the one she did not want to fuck with. “Shut. The. Hell. Up.”

“Christie…”

I cut her off with a silent look that would have made Adolf Hitler himself cringe from terror. “Don’t speak. Don’t even hum a sound for the rest of the time we are in here.”

“But…”

I cut her off again, the sounds of the coffeehouse regaining its upbeat and talkative atmosphere drowning me out slightly. “Not a word.”

“Not even…”

“No.”

The woman nodded and made home to the neglected cookies she had once abandoned, taking hefty bites one after another to console her sudden pain and bruised ego. I do not intend to come off as malicious towards the girl, but her constant meddling in business that does not concern her- MY business- irritates me. But I do know one thing though; Helen did have a pretty decent suggestion about calling that little rich blonde twerp. The boy has made some pretty respectable passes at me with the swipe of his black card and some nice expensive gifts- the fleece cardigan I am wearing made by Donna Karin being one of them. Maybe I shall call him for some therapy, who knows; maybe he can be of assistance.