there?”
“What did they want?”
“They wanted me to get married, have children, be like them, I guess. But they hated their lives. At least, that’s what it looked like to me. I hated my life. Maybe theirs was okay. I never asked. Anyway, I had to get away from my uncles. I had to get away from…” She stopped, looked into a little shop window and tugged on my arm. “Damn, it’s closed. I’ll have to take you here some time. They have the most amazing things in here.”
It was an antique shop with beautiful, old, art deco oak furniture piled high at the back. It was dark now, and I imagined it was the kind of place that was dark even on sunny days because there was so much stuff piled on display.
“Look at that little box.” She pointed at the window. Her finger touched the dewy glass and left a mark. It was a gold pill box with gemstones on the top of it. I didn’t know if she was really keen on the box or if it was her way of changing the subject, so I never asked about either again.
Her favourite place was an old-style diner that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. We had walked through a stretch of warehouses and were somewhere in the industrial district, but I was no longer sure exactly where. It’s funny what you learn about people based on where they like to eat. When I’d first seen Kelly, I’d thought she was the embodiment of glamour. She’d been everything ‘big city’ in my mind, but I had been wrong. Green Hill, she said, was a tiny little town, a forty-minute drive from another fairly small town. She had grown up, much like me, obsessing over the idea of a bigger, brighter, better place.
“So, what’s your plan? You know…at Carla’s?” she asked as we were seated in the blue vinyl booth.
It was a direct question. I had barely moved in. I had almost screwed up with today’s client. I didn’t even know if I could cut it. “I’m not sure yet.” I grabbed the plastic menu and studied it, hoping we weren’t going to talk about work all night.
“Well, a word of advice?”
“Sure.”
“Carla knows what she’s doing. She’s a good person, you know? She’s the reason I could leave my job at the Side Bar and I’m glad I’m out of that dive. I don’t want to do that anymore. It’s hard. It was okay when I first got here. It seems like this place is a big city, you know, but it’s not. You will get recognised. I didn’t think so at first. I couldn’t imagine it. But then it happened. I was minding my own business, shopping for groceries and some guy, some random asshole, came up to me and said, ‘It’s you, isn’t it?’ and I was like, ‘Who?’ but we both knew and…”
“You hated it?”
“Hate is a strong word. I’m very private. I don’t like knowing people I haven’t set out to know. The good thing about Carla’s is that it’s a lot of regulars, a lot of word of mouth and overall pretty decent people.”
“And the bad thing?”
“Money. She takes half of everything. It’s not my idea of a good deal. It’s just I needed something to get on my feet. She’s getting the better end of the stick, though, I’ll tell you that much.”
“But the other day you said that it was great money.”
“In comparison to the Side Bar, but it’s not a long-term thing for me. I don’t want to get stuck making someone else rich, you know?”
She glanced at the menu. “I’ll order for you,” she said. “I’m the Southerner. I like this place. Betty-Anne, the owner, really is from the South. It’s the real deal here. You like okra?”
“Don’t know.”
The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a ponytail and a pencil behind her ear, came over. Kelly ordered a ton of food and smiled at me. “Good for the soul,” she said, revealing the twang she usually hides to the waitress, who also smiled.
“So what’s your plan?” I asked.
“Long term, I want to build my own thing. I’m not sure what yet. I’m not even sure if I’ll stay in this
“What did they want?”
“They wanted me to get married, have children, be like them, I guess. But they hated their lives. At least, that’s what it looked like to me. I hated my life. Maybe theirs was okay. I never asked. Anyway, I had to get away from my uncles. I had to get away from…” She stopped, looked into a little shop window and tugged on my arm. “Damn, it’s closed. I’ll have to take you here some time. They have the most amazing things in here.”
It was an antique shop with beautiful, old, art deco oak furniture piled high at the back. It was dark now, and I imagined it was the kind of place that was dark even on sunny days because there was so much stuff piled on display.
“Look at that little box.” She pointed at the window. Her finger touched the dewy glass and left a mark. It was a gold pill box with gemstones on the top of it. I didn’t know if she was really keen on the box or if it was her way of changing the subject, so I never asked about either again.
Her favourite place was an old-style diner that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. We had walked through a stretch of warehouses and were somewhere in the industrial district, but I was no longer sure exactly where. It’s funny what you learn about people based on where they like to eat. When I’d first seen Kelly, I’d thought she was the embodiment of glamour. She’d been everything ‘big city’ in my mind, but I had been wrong. Green Hill, she said, was a tiny little town, a forty-minute drive from another fairly small town. She had grown up, much like me, obsessing over the idea of a bigger, brighter, better place.
“So, what’s your plan? You know…at Carla’s?” she asked as we were seated in the blue vinyl booth.
It was a direct question. I had barely moved in. I had almost screwed up with today’s client. I didn’t even know if I could cut it. “I’m not sure yet.” I grabbed the plastic menu and studied it, hoping we weren’t going to talk about work all night.
“Well, a word of advice?”
“Sure.”
“Carla knows what she’s doing. She’s a good person, you know? She’s the reason I could leave my job at the Side Bar and I’m glad I’m out of that dive. I don’t want to do that anymore. It’s hard. It was okay when I first got here. It seems like this place is a big city, you know, but it’s not. You will get recognised. I didn’t think so at first. I couldn’t imagine it. But then it happened. I was minding my own business, shopping for groceries and some guy, some random asshole, came up to me and said, ‘It’s you, isn’t it?’ and I was like, ‘Who?’ but we both knew and…”
“You hated it?”
“Hate is a strong word. I’m very private. I don’t like knowing people I haven’t set out to know. The good thing about Carla’s is that it’s a lot of regulars, a lot of word of mouth and overall pretty decent people.”
“And the bad thing?”
“Money. She takes half of everything. It’s not my idea of a good deal. It’s just I needed something to get on my feet. She’s getting the better end of the stick, though, I’ll tell you that much.”
“But the other day you said that it was great money.”
“In comparison to the Side Bar, but it’s not a long-term thing for me. I don’t want to get stuck making someone else rich, you know?”
She glanced at the menu. “I’ll order for you,” she said. “I’m the Southerner. I like this place. Betty-Anne, the owner, really is from the South. It’s the real deal here. You like okra?”
“Don’t know.”
The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a ponytail and a pencil behind her ear, came over. Kelly ordered a ton of food and smiled at me. “Good for the soul,” she said, revealing the twang she usually hides to the waitress, who also smiled.
“So what’s your plan?” I asked.
“Long term, I want to build my own thing. I’m not sure what yet. I’m not even sure if I’ll stay in this
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