Episode 3 (1.3)
October 3, 2008 07:11 PM
Isabel tried to focus on the sale; as she rung up the items, she did her best to ignore the man leaning over her. Julio seemed oblivious to the effect that he was having over her; he leaned casually against the counter, watching her every move. Isabel finished ringing up the shirt, then finally glanced up at Julio. “That’ll be $80.”
“Now you promise this’ll make mom happy?” Julio pulled out his card and handed it to her.
“I’m almost sure of it.” She rang the card through, then began packing the newly bought outfit into a bag. She handed over the bag and then tore off the receipt. Handing it off, Isabel tried her best to be look busy as he signed. Molly, working the register next to her, smirked as she watched the exchange between the two.
“Our Isabel is known for her impeccable fashion sense. I don’t think we’ve ever had a complaint about an outfit she picked out.” Isabel tried her best to contain her embarrassment; She shot a mortified look at Molly, then glanced up at Julio with a smile.
“Then I shouldn’t have anything to worry about. It was nice meeting you, Isabel.” Julio flashed her a smile, then left with his bag. Isabel glanced at the receipt and saw a number at the bottom. His number. She watched him making her way to the front and without realizing it, found herself sprinting around the counter and towards her side.
“Hey! Hey, Stop!” Julio paused and waited. “Here.” Isabel pulled out a pen from her pocket and took Julio’s hand; she wrote down her number into his palm. Julio smiled brightly.
“When do you get off work?”
Isabel bit her lip, but found she was smiling. “Well... the store is supposed to close in a few minutes... but we are doing inventory tonight, so I might be here late.”
“Would you be allowed to talk while working?”
“I, well, yeah I guess I would.”
“Then I’ll call in about an hour.” Julio walked out the door and Isabel stood staring after him.
“What... am I doing?” She spoke softly to herself.
* * *
Tucker Prince and Lee Hathway walked down the tree-lined sidewalk. In his hands, Tucker held a small piece of paper and a cell phone to illuminate it against the night; Lee trailed behind him. “We should have asked for directions.”
“We did. She gave us the address.” Tucker responded, sing-songingly.
”But we should have asked for directions.” Lee retorted.
“To get somewhere on campus?” Tucker allowed his annoyance to show through. “We’ve gone here for three years now, Lee. I think we can handle finding a frat house.”
“Riight, that’s why we’ve been lost for a half hour.”
Tucker ignored Lee, focusing instead on the street around them. He peered up and down the crossroads, trying to recognize if they had already passed this way. Lee drew up behind him, lumbering along; He had not managed to get in a very good nap that afternoon and he was still struggling to recover from the night before. Lee rested up against a tree trunk, rubbing at his eyes. “Dude, down here! I think I see some lights!” Tucker pointed down towards their left and began to walk-run down the sidewalk; Lee pushed himself up and followed.
As they approached, the lights became more visible; blues and reds flashing in the night. Tucker stopped short and Lee slammed into him. The two stumbled and recovered. They watched as frat brother after brother was led from the house and into waiting patrol cars.
“Well,” muttered Lee, “I’m a little happy that we didn’t have directions.”
* * *
“Well, he was definitely handsome.” Isabel jumped, startled, as Carleen appeared behind her. As she reached down to pick up the dropped sweater she’d been folding, Carleen leaned against the folding table. “Also stayed a good three hours picking out an outfit with you. He must really care about finding his mother the perfect gift.” Isabel could pick up Carleen’s inquisitive tone. She was about to respond when Molly called her name. Isabel and Carleen glanced over to the main desk, where Molly was frantically waving Isabel over. Isabel walked over, as Carleen set about closing the front door to Stella’s.
“What is it, Molly?”
“Here, I think it’s Jason.” Molly handed her the phone.
“Hey Jay, what’s up?”
Jason’s voice came over the line, frantic. “Iz, you gotta leave now.”
“What? We’re doing inventory tonight, Jay, I’m supposed to be here until at least 1. What’s going on?”
“It’s Allan, Iz. He’s been arrested.” The rest of the conversation was one-sided, with Jason filling in details that Isabel barely heard. Allan had called them, the family was going to head over, Alicia was with him and they were going to get Mom. Isabel was barely focused as she copied down the address of the precinct Jason gave her. “Iz, Iz, you going to meet us there?”
“Huh... I... yea. Yes. I will see you there.” She hung up the phone, looking dazed. Molly glanced at her with concern. “Moll, I’m sorry, but I have to leave. It’s important, family business.”
Molly, thankfully, didn’t question her further. “It’s fine, go, we can handle this. Misha was already staying after anyway.” Isabel nodded a thanks and raced towards the back to gather her belongings.
* * *
The seven boys wandered about the cell aimlessly; most were dazed, some still were slightly drunk. Tyke was laying on one of the benches, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Jackson and Allan sat on another bench, both staring at their hands. Jackson coughed, clearing his throat, and then spoke. “What do you think the others are being asked?”
Allan continued staring down at the floor. “Probably the same thing you or I got asked. Who’s idea was the party? Where did we get the alcohol? Do we understand the laws about underage drinking?” Allan grimaced. “Underage drinking . . . do you know what could happen to me for serving?!”
“Yeah,but you didn’t know.”
“Damn right, I didn’t know. You think that matters though?” Allan found himself getting angry and he balled his fists, sending a shock through his body from his broken hand. He gingerly touched his throbbing fingers. “I want to be a cop, Jack. This goes on your record. How can I get a job with this on my record?”
“It wasn’t your job, man. Someone was supposed to be checking i.d.s at the door. You were serving people with the bands, right?”
“Well, yeah.” Allan glanced over at Jack. “I mean, I did my best to check. Someone might have gotten by. . . what if someone got by?”
“Allan, that’s not the point, dude. You’re job was to serve to people with the bands and I saw you doing your part. Someone at the door was the one who screwed up!” From across the room, Jack noted that one of their frat brothers looked somewhat nervous. Tyke was also sitting up in the cot. “Wait, who the hell was supposed to be checking the i.d.’s anyway?”
Tyke gave a nervous laugh. “Well, that’s a funny story.”
* * *
Jillian McCaulley pushed the broom across the floor of Amegro’s Beauty Salon, picking up any stray hairs left behind. As she moved up and down the mirror covered walls, she would momentarily pause to turn off the lights at each hairdresser’s station. She finishing sweeping and laid the broom against the wall.
“Jill, can you get the door?” The voice coming from the back was Abigail “Abby” Diore; the young owner of the Salon.
“Not a problem.” Jillian crossed the darkened salon. She typed the code into the security system, then pulled the heavy glass door open. “It’s set. Hurry up Abby, thirty seconds!” The sound of pattering feet across the floor followed this announcement. Abigail stealthy emerged from the backroom and vaulted across the salon to get to the door beside Jillian. The two exited, Jillian pulling shop door shut behind her.
Abigail shivered slightly as they stood in the open, September air. “Whoah, summer sure is fading fast.”
“Believe me, I know.” Jillian sighed, “This morning, I sent my daughter off to first day as a Senior. You don’t know how old you can feel until your baby girl is getting ready to graduate from High School.” As Jillian spoke, she was fiddling in her bag, trying to locate her keys.
“Jill, I think you’ve got some company.”
Jillian turned to find Jason and Alicia pulling up to the shop in his car. Before she could move towards them, Jason was already rolling down his windows and shouting at her. “MOM, You gotta come with us! Now!!”
From the passenger seat, Alicia leaned over. “I think you should come too Abby.”
* * *
Levy Hathaway flicked off the coffee machine and began removing the pots. He proceeded to dump out the remnants of the beans and brackish water; as it swirled down the drain, the aroma of ancient coffee wafted up at him.
“Mmm, I love that smell.” Tori Rickler appeared from the back kitchen. At twenty, she was a stunning beauty: dark hair, pale complexion, and deep, brown eyes. She was in the process of removing a hair tie; as it came free, her hair cascaded down her back. Her other hand tugged at her apron, pulling it free over her head. As she did, Levy caught a flash of skin. He bowed his head and began scrubbing the empty pots. “Do you need any help?”
“No. No, I have this.” She stood right beside him. “Did you finish with everything in the back?”
“Yes, we are all set for tomorrow. Are you sure I can’t help?” Before Levy could answer, she had already reached into the sink and took the sponge from his hand. As their hands touched, her’s lingered, then gently pulled away; Levy blushed.
“You really don’t have to, it’s late.”
“I want to,” she responded. She brushed up against him, so they stood side-by-side in front of the sink. As they worked, her hands kept brushing against his. Levy tried not to look over her, instead intent on finishing the wash. Tori held up one of the finished pots, “Done! Is there anything else we need to wash?”
Levy coughed and motioned to the muffin pans that lay by the sink. “That’s it over there.” Tori leaned across him, her hair and chest brushing against his arms.
“Oh, sorry.” She retrieved the pans and dumped them into the sink; She reached over and poured some soap into the gathering water. As the bubbles began to form, Tori dipped her hands and began to slowly work the pan over. As Levy watched, he noticed the large amounts of food she was leaving untouched. Tori caught his gaze, “Oh, I don’t think it’s coming off. Can you help me?”
“Sure.” Levy leaned over and began scrubbing at the pans, Tori rested her hands on top of his and the two began scrubbing together. She smiled slyly, sideways at him.
The door to the coffee shop swung open and Carleen entered. “So I just left Misha and Molly to close at the store together. I hope the place is still standing tomorrow--” Carleen stopped when she caught sight of Levy and Tori at the sink.
* * *
“Jimmy was supposed to be checking, but he had a good point. I mean why should an upper classman be in charge of that job?” Allan was pacing in front of Tyke as his “brother” explained. “So we were like, let’s have the pledges do that job, with you know... Jimmy checking up on them every now and then.” Jimmy, the nervous looking frat brother, was listening as Tyke explained the situation to the others. “But you know, people get distracted. The pledges let in a few of their friends and then their friends came. The point *was* to have the biggest part--”
Allan leapt forward at the two. His fist connected with Tyke, who went stumbling over the back of the bed and landed on the floor. Jimmy, leapt to his feet, but before he could throw up his own hands in defense, Allan’s other fist connected. Both recoiled, Jimmy holding a bloody nose, Allan clutching his hand; the room was spinning and he held back the urge to throw up from the pain. “Agghh.” Jackson stepped between them, throwing up his hands to try and calm the situation. The other three brothers were either holding Jimmy back or helping up the dazed Tyke.
The door to the holding cell flew open and officers rushed in to separate the boys. Allan, was led out, barely able to focus over his anger and the throbbing pain.
* * *
The bored desk officer nearly fell out of his seat as the doors to the precinct flew open. The five figures marched towards him; Jillian was in the lead, her face a stern mark of determination. To her left were Jason and Alicia; Jason glanced about, as if expecting Allen to be sitting somewhere in the precinct waiting area. Alicia wore a nervous smile, her eyes not leaving her mother. On the other side were Isabel and Abby; Isabel appeared distracted, walking almost in a trance; Abby had red eyes, her hand clutching a tissue.
Jillian came to the counter; the officer stared up at her. “I am here for my son.” Her children stood silently behind her, watching their mother.
“Who is your son?”
“Allan McCaulley.”
From behind, Abby spoke up as well, fighting back a sniffle. “Tyke Diore, as well.”
“I can check with my superior officer.” The desk officer pushed back his chair and disappeared through a back door. Jillian stood there patiently, arms crossed. Isabel and Alicia settled down on one bench, Jason on another across from them. Abigail hovered behind Jillian, her eyes wandering around the station.
The officer remerged. “Ma’m, if you’ll come this way.” He hit a button and an alarm buzzed, followed by the declicking of an automatic lock. Jillian pushed open a door and motioned for Abby to follow. It closed, leaving her three children to wait in the lobby.
“So... anyone want to blame a game?!” Isabel and Jason shot Alicia a look; she sighed and crossed her arms. “This is going to be no fun at all.”
* * *
Tori had the sense to step away from Levy, her hands digging into her pockets. “Hello, Mrs. Hathway. We were just finishing the clean up.”
“I could see that,” Carleen responded coldly. She glanced over at Levy, who had returned to violently scrubbing a pan. “It’s pretty late, Tori, I didn’t know we were paying you for overtime.”
“Oh, I clocked out a little bit ago.” Tori smiled, coyly. “I was just helping out with the cleaning, making sure that things were ready to go tomorrow.”
“Looks pretty good, maybe you should get home.” Carleen pushed open the door behind her. “I know that Levy and I probably should be getting to bed ourselves.”
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Hathaway.” Tori picked up her discarded apron from the counter and walked over to the door. “Goodnight, Mrs. Hathway.” Carleen grunted a response, then closed the door gently as Tori walked out. She clicked the lock, then turned to glance at her husband. He said nothing. Carleen stormed past him and up the stairs.
“Carleen, wait,” Levy called after her. When she didn’t answer, he dropped the pan and chased after her.
* * *
Isabel’s phone began to ring; She blushed and reached into her pocket, silencing the call. Without a word, she pulled it out and quickly glanced at the screen. Julio. She put the phone back into her pocket. Alicia shot her a look that she largely ignored, focusing on the door that her mother and Abby had disappeared through. Across from them sat Jason, head back against the wall, eyes closed; the only indication that he was awake was his left leg, which shook violently to mimic his nerves.
The doorway opened; the three leapt to their feet. Jillian stepped out, followed by Allan. His siblings surged forward, but Jillian shot them a look and they stopped in their tracks. She began to bark out orders authoritatively, “Isabel, you’re going to drive us home. Alicia, you will be joining us. Jason, Abigail is going to be coming out with Tyke in a few moments. I offered for you to take them back to the shop.” Jason and Isabel obediently nodded.
“Allan,” Alicia whispered, “What happened to your hand?”
He didn’t say anything; his eyes remained downcast as the McCaulleys made their way out of the station.
* * *
Carleen threw open the kitchen door, hurling her keys unto the counter. Levy was only seconds behind her, “Carleen, honey, stop, wait. Please, you don’t know what’s going on.” She laughed, then turned on him.
“Of course I don’t. Obviously I haven’t known what’s been going on for quite awhile, Levy.” He sighed, and she fought back the urge to deck him. “Don’t do that, don’t patronize me. After everything we’ve been through, how could you just-” Levy reached forward to touch her arm and she recoiled. “No.”
Levy stepped back, “Carleen you can’t think that I would-”
“I know what I saw, Levy.” She moved back so she was leaning against the counter, but her eyes never left his face. Levy decided against moving towards her once more; instead he pulled a seat out and took a place at the kitchen table.
“’Leen, you don’t know what you were seeing.”
“Then what was I seeing, Levy? Tell me, please, what was that about?” Carleen looked down at her husband, pleadingly; she fought back the tears that wanted to well in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” Lynne stood in the doorway, bleary and barely awake.
Posted at 10/03/2008 by beck | Comments? (0)