How Cliche to Have My Heart Stolen

I had Kenna wait behind the counter for me while I changed out of my work uniform. Tomorrow my shift was early in the morning as opposed to the late morning/afternoon shift. Being as I wouldn't run into my family, I pulled the wig of my head along with the wig cap. I plucked the pins from my hair and shook my hair releasing my unnaturally black waves, allowing them to fall to my shoulders. When I removed the apron, I tried to think of any time I'd been happier to take my clothes off.

I figured yesterday would be the last day I'd have to really party with my friends, so I took full advantage of every hour I had. Tying the apron around my back, I yawned. Maybe staying up all night wasn't a good idea?

It was good that the traffic through the station was slow. I probably wouldn't be able to make exact change if I wanted to. Today at least I had a someone helping out. She came in an hour after my shift started. Her name was Rachel. I'd never really seen her before, but she was a college student so it made sense that I hadn't seen her at school. A natural two-tone, rich green eyes, a tan, clear complexion, she was the kind of girl who just blended in. Unless you were close with her, you didn't really notice her.

I was unpacking a box of cigarettes behind the counter while Rachel was organizing the register and making sure the receipts and the money in the register added up right when a boy in a grey hooded jacket came it. Even though I was exhausted from the night before, it did strike me as odd that someone would be wearing a hoodie during spring break. It wasn't hot, but it was definitely not cold.

Until I actually started to talk to her, I didn't realize how much I under appreciated Rachel. She reminded me a lot of Kenna, including her love of pot.

"So you don't smoke?" she asked me, saying it as though no one could not like pot.

"Not really," I began. "It just doesn't appeal to me. Don't get me wrong, I have friends who do that. It's just not my scene."

I peaked me head above the counter and watched the hooded customer as he walked through the aisles, picking up things here and there and shoving them under his hoodie.

"Hey!"

As soon as he heard my voice he turned to face me.

"You gonna pay for that?" Rachel said.

His head down, shadowed by the hood, he walked to the counter. Rachel scanned each item as he pulled it out and placed it on the counter.

"And uh, a pack of cigs," he said in a voice just above a whisper, deep and raspy.

"Can I see some I.D.?" Rachel said in a kind voice.

"I don't have it with me."

"Sorry, I can't s--"

"I have some pot," he blurted.

Rachel looked at him for a minute, "You listened to our conversation?"

"I have some pot back at my place," he said again. "If you can sell me the cigarettes, I'll get you some pot." He looked at us gaging our reactions. "It's dank. It's good, I'm tellin' you."

"Okay," Rachel said.

"Rachel...." I stared at her. "You can't be serious."

"C'mon. He'll still pay for the cigarettes. It's a favor for a favor, right?" She was trying to convince me.

"Absolutely," the guy gave a slight smile knowing we were considering it.

"I really don't think it's a good idea," I tried to reason with her.

"You can leave early," Rachel promised me. "You go with him, and hang out for a while and I'll see you when my shifts over and I'll meet you there. Then you can go home."

Getting out of the apron made the deal. "Okay," I gave in. "But I don't have a car. So how am I going to get home?"

"I can drive you home. I have my car in the parking lot. I can drive you there and home when she," referring to Rachel, "shows up."

"And I'll finish your shift," Rachel promised. She bounced a bit when she knew I was seriously considering it. Watching my face change, she knew I was sold.

"Okay," I said.

I was distracted by a sinking feeling in my stomach, so much so that I completely missed the directions as the customer was giving them to Rachel. The sinking, and my reaction to it, was muted by how overly tired I was. I was weak and was wanting to be anywhere but my job. "I'll go get changed." I untied the apron while I walked to the back room. Hanging it on the designated hook, I then took off my wig and got in my comfortable clothes.

"Wow, you look hot!" Rachel gave a wink when she saw me coming out of the back room.

My wig gone, my black hair now free, and wearing my normal clothes. The pink corset I was wearing constricting my stomach woke me up a bit more. "I'm ready," I said with a smile.

Rachel hugged me on my way out of the store. "Thank you so much!" she said.

"Sure," I really didn't know what else to say. I mean, hey, I was getting to leave work early!

I followed a few steps behind the guy, and then it occurred to me, I don't even know his name. "Hey, it's a little weird goin' to someone's place and not knowing their name."

"Luke," he said. When he moved his hood from his head, I got a good look at his dark hair. It was obviously natural... Not like mine. "Well?"

"Huh?" I snapped out of it.

"It's a little weird inviting someone to your place not knowing their name," he mocked me.

"Brandy," I confessed. "But everyone calls me Brodie." Brandy was feminine. It didn't fit me.

"Isn't Brodie a boy's name?"

"Yeah, but beautiful and sensitive really don't fit me," I shot back at him.

He laughed. He was laughing at me! What a jerk!

"You seem pretty 'sensitive' about your name." He had me there.

We walked to a white two door car Chevy car. "Here it is," he said. "The crapmobile."

"Hey," I said in a cheery tone. "It's better than my car. OH WAIT. My car doesn't exist!"

He gave me a pitty laugh, how sweet.

Moving over to the passenger side, I got a good look at his face. He wasn't bad looking, I admitted. Maybe not what I usually go for, but it wasn't painful to look at him or anything.
Opening the door, Luke finally took off his nasty hoodie. Underneath was a wifebeater shirt. With the hoodie gone, I could finally see what he really looked like. He was muscular without the veins popping out everywhere which always kind of grossed me out on guys. Fairly tan. I was surprised I didn't see any tattoos, to be honest. That was kind of good though, tattoos always made me hot.

I waited for him to get in before I did, I thought it was respectful. When I did "hop in" I saw what he meant by "crapmobile." There were some cigarette holes burned into the seat, the window didn't roll down, and the back seat was pretty much trashed.

"Sorry," he seemed sincere. "I know it's hot." Luke pushed open the sunroof. "But this is all I can do."

I was baking, metaphorically. Please, oh please, I begged to myself. Let this place be close!

Thank heavens it was only a few blocks away. As we lurched to a stop, I leaned out the open passenger door and breathed heavily. Holding my hand on my chest, I could feel my heart beating rapidly.

"My driving wasn't that bad..."

"There's no way I can go back to sleep now," I continued huffing. "I'll dream I'm riding with you again. Which I will never do!" It takes a lot to scare me, but his driving definitely did it!

We were parked outside an apartment building. One notorious for drive-bys and drug deals. Kenna had dragged me here a few times. Many of the residents were immigrants, aliens, or just human garbage. It offered weekly rent, which was good for people who had to move around a lot to avoid deportation or people who just needed a place to crash until they got a job and could afford something better.

"My dad and I moved in yesterday," Luke explained, "with his girlfriend and my uncle." Slamming the car door behind him he said, "You'll be the first visitor."

"I'm honored," I said drenched in sarcasm.