Two Weeks of Sin

“Majestic?”

“Duh. I want a milkshake. See you soon boo.”

I chuckled and hung up the phone, tucking it away in my pocket. Let’s see where this takes us.

Chapter Two

It was just as hot outside as I expected it to be. The air was oppressive and sweat was already starting to bead on my forehead. I brushed my fingers through my blonde hair, secretly thankful to Gina for talking me out of dying it a dark color. She warned me that it would attract the sun and get way too hot and I was grateful to her for the warning, though I’d still acted petulant about not having dark hair.

The streets were as busy as you’d expect on a hot summer afternoon. A few people were walking up and down the street in shorts and tank tops, but most people were holed up in the mall or at home where cold AC units offered relief from this fucking heat. It was the one thing I hated about Atlanta. I hated the heat. I hated the way that even the branches on the trees seemed to droop in utter defeat against it.

Luckily I didn’t have to walk too far. I lived close to a tram station and hopped on happily. I sighed with delight as the cool air hit my face. I collapsed into one of the seats and stuck headphones in my ears, not really interested in talking to anyone. People had a tendency to think that public transport was a place to make friends. They would talk your ear off if you didn’t have headphones in. It was the most annoying thing I’d ever experienced in my life.

I’d grown up in a small town just outside Boston and I wasn’t used to people poking around in my business for no reason. Folks in small towns do love to gossip but they have a tendency to do it behind your back and never to your face, so it was less invasive than what I faced here in the big city.

I got off in the heart of downtown Atlanta and walked through the street, taking in all the people. One of my favorite parts about living in a big city was people-watching. Coming from a small town where everyone looked the same, and there was little to no variation, Atlanta people-watching was like hitting the jackpot. I couldn’t go more than five feet without seeing a new look. There were Goth kids, glamour moms, and even the occasional drag queen. I loved taking in all the colors and looks.

I took evening classes at a local community college because it was all I could afford with my retails job and financial aid. I never talked about my hopes much, but I had hopes of being a fashion designer. It was my dream since I was a little girl, nose deep in Vogue and Marie Claire magazines. It was the story of my life, really. I had a tendency to curl inside of myself and block the world out. I was always good at being on my own and making things work for myself.

My mother loved me in her own way, but she loved me at a distance. She was always a guarded woman who struggled to express herself in a healthy way. Her fling with my father and subsequent marriage was her attempt at shaking things up. Obviously, that hadn’t worked out too well.

Growing up with a woman like her made me clam up just like she did. I didn’t want to be around people - I wanted to watch from a safe distance so no one could hurt me. It had affected my life in a way I hadn’t really noticed until I got into high school and really started to try and make friends. I was suddenly very aware of how isolated I was and how alone I felt.

I sighed and frowned, looking up at the brightly colored diner. The Majestic was Gina’s favorite restaurant and I couldn’t really blame her. It was an Atlanta staple and they made the best damn milkshakes.

The second I entered the diner I heard a distinct voice call for me through the relatively small building.

“Yahoo!”

I laughed and crossed over to the booth where Gina had already made herself at home. She was leaning against the wall with her feet kicked up in the booth while she sipped on her orange milkshake.

“Took you long enough,” she teased.

I shrugged and smiled as I settled across from her and stole a few fries. “You know I take the tram.”

“Subway?” she asked.

“Tram,” I corrected.

Gina was an Atlanta native and considered the monorail system a subway. I did not, seeing as how it was above ground. It was an argument we’d never solve. She smiled and turned to face me, putting her chin in her hands. Her grin was infectious and I couldn’t help but return it.

Gina was my best friend and one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever met. She had naturally dark hair and skin that was the color of deep mahogany. Her eyes were almost gold and reminded me of honey. She could have been a damn model if she wanted to. Too bad she was more interested in biology.

The average person wouldn’t expect us to be friends. Gina got herself into her fair share of trouble, but she made up for it with her ridiculous intelligence. She was a freshman at the University of Georgia and lived on campus. She came home during the weekends, but I didn’t see her as much as I would have liked. Gina was one of my only friends and when she wasn’t in Atlanta this massive city felt so damn lonely.

“You don’t look like you’re ready to go to the bar,” I murmured, eyeing her fitted jeans and tank top.

Gina snorted a little and crossed her arms over her chest. “Girl, you know my mama wouldn’t let me leave in club gear,” she said holding up her backpack. “What about you?”

“You know I don’t dress up for that shit,” I said, tapping my foot.

“And why not?”

“I’m just not interested in drawing the attention of guys at bars, especially if the city is going to be full of bikers,” I murmured, shrugging.

Gina didn’t really understand my aversion to bikers. They came through Atlanta often enough that the locals didn’t think much about them. They were an expected nuisance like fire ants or mosquitos. They might nip at your legs and arms, but they weren’t going to cause any real damage. I just didn’t see them that way.

I knew about the things my dad had done in his ‘wild years’. My mother told me all about the stores he burned down and the fights he started. There was even a rumor that he was involved with a drug ring and some possible murders. I wasn’t sure about the last two but I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d been an addict his whole life and never managed to break the cycle of addiction. My mom thought he was clean but I’d caught him using more than once. I’d considered telling her about this, but I didn’t really want to go back to Boston.