Adelaide Confused Read Free

get off until nine.”
    “’ Kay, pick me up at my
apartment when you get off.” The conversation ended as abruptly as
it’d started. I hung up when I heard the dial tone.
    “ I need a ride home,”
Stephen muttered, his wide eyes glued to an open page.
    “ Liar,” I said as I
snatched the book from him. “You just want to see Francesca. But is
it really worth pissing off your mom?”
    Stephen’s mother didn’t
approve (as she had put it) of his riding around with older women.
Not that he really needed a ride. The walk home for him was less
than ten minutes, but rainy days did happen.
    “ I’m not going to obey
inane rules. That would only encourage stupidity.”
    “ Fine,” I relented. I was
of the opinion that he needed to experience more than video games,
work, and an overbearing mother. “You can come along, but finish
your homework before we go.”
    Missy arrived five minutes
before nine; she worked the night shift. I was uncertain of her age
as she regularly wore a layer of pale foundation and colored her
eye sockets black. I surmised Missy wanted to be a
vampire.
    Appearances aside, she had
an outgoing personality and conversed well with most everyone, with
one exception—me. She wasn’t obvious about it, and I might’ve never
known she harbored negative feelings if it wasn’t for the fact that
I could feel them. A common mesh of irritation, contempt, and envy
dripped from her whenever I was near. Honestly, I was pretty numb
to stuff like that. It didn’t bother me to work with Missy, and I
never let on that I knew how she felt. I gave her an update and
escaped the negativity. Stephen said goodbye and followed me
out.
    I didn’t waste time letting
him settle in the passenger seat. Rearranging later would be a
pain. Instead I pulled a lever, leaned my seat forward, and slid it
up the track. This created a tiny gap that lanky Stephen could
crawl through. My car was old, a 1980’s Chevy Chevette, and if it
wasn’t properly handled, it wouldn’t run.
    We reached Francesca’s
apartment in a matter of minutes. I pulled up to the curb and
honked twice. I could feel Stephen’s infatuated anticipation
growing stronger as we waited. Really it wasn’t his
fault.
    Francesca and I had met
when I first moved to the island. Hoping to capitalize on my rare
ability, I applied at the Crowne, the island’s finest (not to
mention, most expensive) hotel. For a time I was the hospitality
specialist, meaning I groveled to the wealthier guests, seeing that
their every need was met. Being empathetic gave me an edge. I did
well at the Crowne, but lacked the patience and humility required
for such a job. So I quit before I was fired.
    Francesca had been manning
the Crowne’s front desk since high school. She was a local; St.
Simon’s born and bred. But hospitality wasn’t her only job.
Francesca was capitalizing on her own special gift—her body. With a
mass of dark hair, sharp arched eyebrows, and natural blood-red
lips, she had the sultry and seductive thing going on.
    Working at the Crowne had
given Francesca ample opportunity to rub elbows with the blue
bloods. Her favorite type was the young, wealthy, and dumb. She’d
had a string of boyfriends (and I use that term lightly) who
habitually bought her things. Flowers, yeah. Clothes, sure. But
Francesca could give any escort service a run for its
money.
    Robert, or Bobby, bought
her a new pair of boobs. Edward paid for a new name. She hadn’t
always been Francesca Black. (Katie Wainer just didn’t suit the
image she had in mind for her future.) And Stewart had been
extravagant, buying her a French bedroom set. I suppose he’d been
most interested in the new bed... you get the point.
    We didn’t have much in
common. She got her legs waxed and nails done. I didn’t, and I
didn’t wish I did either. But for all that, she wasn’t superficial.
On the contrary, I’d say she was painfully practical. But what it
really came down to was that she put up with me,