Crossroads

The alleyway she was currently trudging down smelt like piss and bitter alcohol - her eyes watered as she passed a cluster of dumpsters that were coloured in obnoxious shades of pink and orange. After a few years of being nothing but beds for the homeless, they were now faded, crusted in dirt, vomit and other despicable things.

Normally she would feel slightly apprehensive - skipping down a dodgy alleyway wasn't the smartest thing to do. But right now, everything was eerily illuminated by the orange glow of the sun, and that offered Hayley a small sense of security as the warmth flushed over her cheeks and tangled in her hair. It was the first time she had felt at peace for a while, and of course the moment was promptly shattered.

Her phone began shaking and buzzing like a madman, so she drew it out of her grey hoodie, not bothering to look at the caller ID. She knew who it was, considering that person had been frantically calling her for the past couple of days. It had been a bit of a dick move, ignoring her for this long and wallowing away under the covers of her bed, but Hayley felt like it was justified. She was answering her now, anyway.

"Yeah?" Answering flippantly was probably not the brightest of ideas.

"Nice of you to fucking answer your phone!"

"Oh, hey Isabella."

"I've been worried about you! You haven't been to work for two weeks - everybody thought you'd died!"

"Sorry?" Hayley offered.

"Where were you?!"

"Well, I took the first week off because I just forgot." Hayley glanced down at her gnawed nails with a frown. She needed to stop biting her nails. "And the second week... family issues." Her throat clenched uncomfortably.

Isabella scoffed - it did sound like a bit of a cop-out, to be fair... too bad it was the truth. Well, not entirely the truth. The first week had been her crying and being pathetic. The second had been her rifling through the streets of the Narrows, searching for some old friends that could help her.

"Mr. Wickers says that if you don't come in today, he's firing you without pay."

A sigh, strangled by frustration, passed Hayley's lips, and her next words were just as strained; "Can you just tell him a family member died?"

"Yeah, but I doubt it's gonna work."

Goodie. Finding another job would be so hard, and she really needed to pay rent. Living in her crummy house was a huge leap from living on the streets.

"Alright then. What time do you want me in?"

"About one o'clock. Your pay is being docked for the next three months."

The drone of the dial tone hummed in her ears, and with a groan she slipped it back into her pocket and grudgingly went back home, which was a huge setback.

A lot of her friends had pointed to one guy that might have been able to help her. Hayley called them friends, but that was just a nicer way of saying those random druggies and 'business' acquaintances who owed her a favour..

His name was Travis. That's who she was supposed to be tracking down today. But, unfortunately, she had been thrown off course by the more mundane, logical side of her life.

The more rational side of her felt silly, tracking down this guy with no more than a name and a basic description. In fact, she felt completely out of her league. How was she supposed to achieve anything, when all she had was a half-baked reputation in the Narrows? Used to work for Maroni. Young as fuck. Been to prison a couple of times for petty crimes. The answer to that was money. Something she didn't have a lot of.

At least she was known a little in the Narrows. Her friends had helped her out, thrown her name around a few times to get information. That's how she had found out about Travis.

God, it was going to take forever to find him. Even longer to find who she was really looking for.



"Serves you right."

Hayley's scrubbing became more violent at her words, as she tried to get a stubborn coffee stain out of the wooden counter.

"No need to be a bitch."

Isabella crossed her arms over her chest, and although her next words were icy and clipped there was real concern behind them.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I was ignoring you." Hayley felt it better to be painfully honest. It seemed that she was burning bridges left, right, and center; first Jean, now Isabella. "I didn't want to speak to anybody."

"Look, if something happened, maybe I could help."

Hayley glared down at her pale hands as they moved back and forth and back and forth. When would this bloody stain leave?

"I'm dealing with it just fine on my own."

Not really. A week and no leads. How was she supposed to find him if she couldn't find Travis?

Back and forth and back and forth across the wooden surface. Her wrists were beginning to ache with fatigue.

Things were moving painfully slow - it seemed as if the whole world had slowed down, just to mock her.

"This fucking stain is pissing me off."

Isabella pursed her bubble-gum pink lips, eyebrows raised incredulously at her friend.

"The stain's gone, Hayley."

Hayley glanced down at the counter and frowned at the spotless, glossy counter. It had been there a second ago, burned dark black against the mahogany wood.

"Go serve the customers. This is for table fourteen." Hayley grabbed the tray with shaking fingers, trying to shake off the small hallucination. She was just stressed out and being stupid.

Taking a deep breath, she set the tray down on the round table and smiled half-heartedly at the customer. A equally half-hearted 'enjoy' tumbled out of her lips, and as she turned around to leave she was stopped by a warm hand wrapped around her wrist.

"I'm sorry, but I think you gave me the wrong order." The man grinned, light brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Hayley rubbed a hand across her face, "I'm just...tired."

"Thanks, no need to worry." He smiled again, and she couldn't help but smile back. It was infectious. "I'm Kyle."

"I'm Hayley. I'll be back with your... tea and cheesecake?" She squinted at Kyle, who nodded "in a second." She lifted the tray off the table and delivered it to its actual owner, apologizing gratuitously as she did so.

Her apology was cut off and a grimace graced her lips as she accidentally glanced up at the cafe's small boxed tv, situated in the very corner of the room. A familiar black, red and white outline was smeared across the screen, and with a shudder rattling down her spine she tore her gaze away.