To Be Obscure

| CH. 06

She stood faster than I could react. Her face, the way she cried, looked just like her. My Charlotte. But how? Why?

Before I could stop her, she grabbed her bag and magazine and darted out the door. I stared, perplexed, at the empty spot she once stood.

How quickly did the chance to find Charlotte leave me, all because of a stubborn teenager who refused to tell me everything? What good was it reading a journal when she was the answer to every page in it?

Gripping my hair in my hands, I growled in frustration, "Merde."

Shit.

The door chimed, and I turned expecting to see her come back—but it wasn't her. It was Ron—Star's partner in crime. He pulled off his jacket as he looked over at me and waved. I wanted to wave but instead turned back towards my whiskey glass. I needed it refilled now more than ever.

"'Sup, man," Ron said as he approached my booth. Star was close behind him—her eyes were filled with worry and concern.

"Hey." I swirled the ice in my glass in a slow circle. It'd started to melt, and when the water mixed with the drops of leftover whiskey, I drank it. Not the best, nor would it do.

"You look a little off." Ron looked back at Star, who shook her head and scratched his head. "Everything all right?"

No.

"How much do I owe you?" I averted the question, looking past Ron and into Star's wide eyes. She stammered for a bit as she pushed her blonde hair behind her ears.

I reached into my back pocket for my wallet, but as soon as I did, Star shook her head and pushed past Ron to touch my hand. "On the house," she said.

"Come on, love." I tried to smile, but judging by the look on her face, my signature smirk fell flat, covered by my emotions.

"Don't worry about it. Just go do what you have to do."

I blinked. I partially knew what she meant, but I wondered, how did she know? Was the small conversation between the girl and me so obvious?

I licked my lip and chuckled before I touched her hand in return. "I'll tip you hefty, then," I said as I pulled out two fifties—I couldn't just tip Star and not Ron. What kind of friend would I be?

"No, you don't—" Star started to say, but Ron swiftly reached for his bill with a grin on his face. Without argument, he pushed the money in his pocket and took three steps back. Star stared at him as though he committed a crime, but I saw nothing wrong with it. It was his, after all.

"I can't believe you," Star muttered as she stood straight. "Like, really?"

"Hey," Ron pulled the fifty out from his pocket and showed it to me, "is it alright if I have this?"

I smirked. "I believe so."

"There you have it." Ron shoved the bill back into his pocket and lifted his chin as he turned towards the register. Star remained, baffled by Ron's behavior. After a second or so, she chased after him, pulling at the sleeve of his jacket.

I heard her say, "How could you? Can't you see he's upset?"

To which I believe Ron replied, "Eh, Man, yo boy's got bills."

At that point, I stopped listening to them. I reached for the ripped magazine piece the girl had left behind—I'd almost forgotten she wrote something for me. Pulling it into my fingers, I read the pink, glittering letters written over some poor model's leg:

Call me when you're ready—Rosie.

I froze. "Rosie," I whispered as I read her phone number.