Status: Just writting to myself mostly, but please leave a comment if you like.
Nothing Really Matters
Chapter one - scouting
Chapter 1.
I was 28, he was 46. He had it all, friends, family, fame, money, I had nothing. He was tanned, dark haired and muscular. I was pail, blond and skinny. But hell, I guess that’s what happens to you when you’ve lived on the streets of New York for the past 3 years. It hadn’t always been this shity. I had an alright life before He came into my life. He had made almost unexciting to the outside world. Controlling every step I took 24/7. It was such a shock the day he didn’t come home again. I almost didn’t know how not to live without someone telling me what do to every second of my life. Hit by a bus I found out when the police came knocking 4 days later. I still hadn’t made it outside then. They wanted to take me to the hospital, not sure why, but looking back maybe I should’ve gone with them. Then I just shrugged the broken ribs and twisted ankle off and closed the door in their faces. Once the money ran out and the apartment was taken away from me, I did the only thing I knew, packed the one backpack with the most essential and lived on the streets in city that never sleeps. Now, New York City was my city. I knew every street and ally like my own back pocket. I knew what hotels and buildings you could sneak into to get clean up and hopefully catch up on some sleep without having to use cardboard boxes. I knew what pound shops to turn to, to sale what couldn’t be sold. I knew what and whom to avoid if you wanted to stay out of trouble. I had perfected my pick pocketing technique the last year. It’s almost ironic therefore that stealing a phone would bring us together…
I was scouting, looking for potential stealing material outside one of the many fancy “only-rich-people-allowed” restaurants in town. I saw him sitting with a cup of coffee on the terrace close to the street, a black bag at his feet, very into his smart phone. People today was so damn occupied updating their social status online today, to even notice someone like me walking by close by, maybe too close, but since you’re more in love with your phone then your surroundings, you fail to see the bag disappearing.
Later that night I found myself sneak into one of my many safe places; an office on upper 7th avenue, close to central park. While I had clean up, changed cloths and emptied the fridge of leftover lunches, I turned to the yet unopened black bag. I emptied the contents in front of me on the couch and wasn’t disappointed. Not at all. A wallet, an Ipaid mini and an Iphone among a bunch of papers, books, sunglasses and for some reason a broken arrow. The wallet had a smaller fortune in it and I quickly counted the many 100-dollar bills before putting them in my jacket. I found a picture of a small blond boy inside, he was probably around 10, smiling at the camera. As I was staring at the photo the phone beside me started to vibrate, showing an incoming call. I ignored it and kept searching the wallet and came across a driver license with his picture on it. He was an organ donor, good for him… When nothing else seemed to be of use in the wallet I turned to the electronics. This was always a struggle, with all the damn cods people have started to use on their phone and tablets. It was harder to sale them if they couldn’t be open. Just as I picked up the phone it vibrated again and showed a new text message.
I want my stuff back.
For some reason I smiled a little. This guy apparently wasn’t among the brightest I noticed when I tried to unlock the phone, using 0000 and found to my surprise that it worked. I decided to replay to the text.
Sure, come get’em.
Stealing is a felony you know.
So is peeing in Central Park.
Keep the money, just give me my phone and tablet back.
Why?
Coz I’m standing outside the office you’re staying at and I hate to call the police.
I lifted my head from the couch then and looked around. He was kidding, right? How the hell could he know where I was? The phone vibrated again.
You know, it’s possible to track phones nowadays…
Shit. I cursed to myself as I gathered all my things together. How could I not have thought about that? But how the hell could he get a trace on it so quickly? Usually I would have been able to sale the stuff before the police even had a report in their hand of it ever being stolen.
“Look, I just want my stuff back. I’m serious, keep the damn money. You look like you need it more then I do.”
I jumped when I heard him speak from somewhere in the darkness behind me. He came walking towards me, his hands raised in front of him. Panicking I tried to search for a way out but the only way was the window right behind me and it was a 4 story drop. I grabbed my backpack and my jacket but leaving his stuff on the couch as I ran up.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He walked into the light coming from the street outside and I came to meet his eyes. For some idiotic reason I stopped when he looked at me. His black hair was long and would probably cover some of his face. He had a beard and wore jeans and leather jacket. My panicked settled a little and for some reason I reflected that I had seen him before.
“Is that all?”
He jerked his head toward the couch and his bag. I nodded back and walked in a big circle around him as he approached the couch. I never turned my back to him, that lesson had been a hard on to learn. Never turn your back on strangers. As he turned to gather his stuff I usually would have made a run for it, but my legs felt like led and I couldn’t move.
“Where’s the picture?”
He turned back around and starred at me. I stared back without being able to speak. What the hell had happened to me? Why the hell didn’t I just leave? I saw him move closer to me, coming closer with every step. I had promised myself this wouldn’t happen again. I couldn’t let myself froze, not able to defend myself like this.
“Look, I just want my picture back, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He was only feet away from me as he reached out a hand towards me. My breathing was shallow and I could feel the panic coming closer.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Sorry… But you’re holding my son’s picture in your hand.”
I looked down and found that he was right. The picture of the smiling boy was still in my right hand.
“Would you mind giving it back?”
I lifted my hand and gave it back to him.
“Thanks… You can stay if you want, I’m gonna go. I never called the cops so you stay if that’s what you want. I won’t tell.”
He kept looking at me and couldn’t tare my eyes away from his. He was probably the sexiest man I had ever seen and those eyes made my heart skip a beat. Despite all the promises I had made myself, never to look at another man every again, I couldn’t stop looking at him.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?”
“What good would that do? You’re not going to steal my things again, are you?”
“Can’t make any promises, a girl’s gotta eat.”
He groped in his back pocket for a moment and held out a bunch of 100-dollar bills to me. I starred at them then back at him.
“I don’t need your help.”
“Alight.”
He threw the money on the closest table and turned to leave, his bag in one hand and the picture safely back in the wallet.
“Take care… Next time I will turn you in.”
“Good to know.”
“You don’t have to live like this, you know.”
“You don’t know shit”.
“I guess that’s true…. Get yourself some food and a place to stay for a while.”
He nodded towards the money on the table before leaving. I watched as he walked away, not daring to move until I could no longer hear him. I waited another 5 minute to make sure he was gone before turning to exit after him, not trusting him one bit when he said he hadn’t call the cops. I had almost reached the street when I rushed back upstairs to grab the money he had left. It was a good 800 $ for god’s sake. When I picked them up however I noticed something else as well. Between the bills was a piece of paper, kind a like a business card.
If you ever change your mind
There was a phone number and an address to one of the fancier apartment complexes in Manhattan. Did he seriously mean to leave me his home address? I turned the card in my hand over and over before pocketing it together with the rest of the money. I spend the night in central park instead, thankfully it was a warm may night and the biggest problem was trying to sleep through all the racket the birds were making. That night I dreamed of Norman Reedus.
I was 28, he was 46. He had it all, friends, family, fame, money, I had nothing. He was tanned, dark haired and muscular. I was pail, blond and skinny. But hell, I guess that’s what happens to you when you’ve lived on the streets of New York for the past 3 years. It hadn’t always been this shity. I had an alright life before He came into my life. He had made almost unexciting to the outside world. Controlling every step I took 24/7. It was such a shock the day he didn’t come home again. I almost didn’t know how not to live without someone telling me what do to every second of my life. Hit by a bus I found out when the police came knocking 4 days later. I still hadn’t made it outside then. They wanted to take me to the hospital, not sure why, but looking back maybe I should’ve gone with them. Then I just shrugged the broken ribs and twisted ankle off and closed the door in their faces. Once the money ran out and the apartment was taken away from me, I did the only thing I knew, packed the one backpack with the most essential and lived on the streets in city that never sleeps. Now, New York City was my city. I knew every street and ally like my own back pocket. I knew what hotels and buildings you could sneak into to get clean up and hopefully catch up on some sleep without having to use cardboard boxes. I knew what pound shops to turn to, to sale what couldn’t be sold. I knew what and whom to avoid if you wanted to stay out of trouble. I had perfected my pick pocketing technique the last year. It’s almost ironic therefore that stealing a phone would bring us together…
I was scouting, looking for potential stealing material outside one of the many fancy “only-rich-people-allowed” restaurants in town. I saw him sitting with a cup of coffee on the terrace close to the street, a black bag at his feet, very into his smart phone. People today was so damn occupied updating their social status online today, to even notice someone like me walking by close by, maybe too close, but since you’re more in love with your phone then your surroundings, you fail to see the bag disappearing.
Later that night I found myself sneak into one of my many safe places; an office on upper 7th avenue, close to central park. While I had clean up, changed cloths and emptied the fridge of leftover lunches, I turned to the yet unopened black bag. I emptied the contents in front of me on the couch and wasn’t disappointed. Not at all. A wallet, an Ipaid mini and an Iphone among a bunch of papers, books, sunglasses and for some reason a broken arrow. The wallet had a smaller fortune in it and I quickly counted the many 100-dollar bills before putting them in my jacket. I found a picture of a small blond boy inside, he was probably around 10, smiling at the camera. As I was staring at the photo the phone beside me started to vibrate, showing an incoming call. I ignored it and kept searching the wallet and came across a driver license with his picture on it. He was an organ donor, good for him… When nothing else seemed to be of use in the wallet I turned to the electronics. This was always a struggle, with all the damn cods people have started to use on their phone and tablets. It was harder to sale them if they couldn’t be open. Just as I picked up the phone it vibrated again and showed a new text message.
I want my stuff back.
For some reason I smiled a little. This guy apparently wasn’t among the brightest I noticed when I tried to unlock the phone, using 0000 and found to my surprise that it worked. I decided to replay to the text.
Sure, come get’em.
Stealing is a felony you know.
So is peeing in Central Park.
Keep the money, just give me my phone and tablet back.
Why?
Coz I’m standing outside the office you’re staying at and I hate to call the police.
I lifted my head from the couch then and looked around. He was kidding, right? How the hell could he know where I was? The phone vibrated again.
You know, it’s possible to track phones nowadays…
Shit. I cursed to myself as I gathered all my things together. How could I not have thought about that? But how the hell could he get a trace on it so quickly? Usually I would have been able to sale the stuff before the police even had a report in their hand of it ever being stolen.
“Look, I just want my stuff back. I’m serious, keep the damn money. You look like you need it more then I do.”
I jumped when I heard him speak from somewhere in the darkness behind me. He came walking towards me, his hands raised in front of him. Panicking I tried to search for a way out but the only way was the window right behind me and it was a 4 story drop. I grabbed my backpack and my jacket but leaving his stuff on the couch as I ran up.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He walked into the light coming from the street outside and I came to meet his eyes. For some idiotic reason I stopped when he looked at me. His black hair was long and would probably cover some of his face. He had a beard and wore jeans and leather jacket. My panicked settled a little and for some reason I reflected that I had seen him before.
“Is that all?”
He jerked his head toward the couch and his bag. I nodded back and walked in a big circle around him as he approached the couch. I never turned my back to him, that lesson had been a hard on to learn. Never turn your back on strangers. As he turned to gather his stuff I usually would have made a run for it, but my legs felt like led and I couldn’t move.
“Where’s the picture?”
He turned back around and starred at me. I stared back without being able to speak. What the hell had happened to me? Why the hell didn’t I just leave? I saw him move closer to me, coming closer with every step. I had promised myself this wouldn’t happen again. I couldn’t let myself froze, not able to defend myself like this.
“Look, I just want my picture back, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He was only feet away from me as he reached out a hand towards me. My breathing was shallow and I could feel the panic coming closer.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Sorry… But you’re holding my son’s picture in your hand.”
I looked down and found that he was right. The picture of the smiling boy was still in my right hand.
“Would you mind giving it back?”
I lifted my hand and gave it back to him.
“Thanks… You can stay if you want, I’m gonna go. I never called the cops so you stay if that’s what you want. I won’t tell.”
He kept looking at me and couldn’t tare my eyes away from his. He was probably the sexiest man I had ever seen and those eyes made my heart skip a beat. Despite all the promises I had made myself, never to look at another man every again, I couldn’t stop looking at him.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?”
“What good would that do? You’re not going to steal my things again, are you?”
“Can’t make any promises, a girl’s gotta eat.”
He groped in his back pocket for a moment and held out a bunch of 100-dollar bills to me. I starred at them then back at him.
“I don’t need your help.”
“Alight.”
He threw the money on the closest table and turned to leave, his bag in one hand and the picture safely back in the wallet.
“Take care… Next time I will turn you in.”
“Good to know.”
“You don’t have to live like this, you know.”
“You don’t know shit”.
“I guess that’s true…. Get yourself some food and a place to stay for a while.”
He nodded towards the money on the table before leaving. I watched as he walked away, not daring to move until I could no longer hear him. I waited another 5 minute to make sure he was gone before turning to exit after him, not trusting him one bit when he said he hadn’t call the cops. I had almost reached the street when I rushed back upstairs to grab the money he had left. It was a good 800 $ for god’s sake. When I picked them up however I noticed something else as well. Between the bills was a piece of paper, kind a like a business card.
If you ever change your mind
There was a phone number and an address to one of the fancier apartment complexes in Manhattan. Did he seriously mean to leave me his home address? I turned the card in my hand over and over before pocketing it together with the rest of the money. I spend the night in central park instead, thankfully it was a warm may night and the biggest problem was trying to sleep through all the racket the birds were making. That night I dreamed of Norman Reedus.