Black or White

Chapter 8 )( Didn't Turn Out As Expected

   Plum Girl had not spoken since she had entered the apartment but once she turned and saw Dan it seemed like the breath her puffed out encompassed all she held in her lungs. She blinked once, twice, then pulled on her poker face and simultaneously took in a breath.

Dan remained where he was, he let his arm lower to his side. His breaths came and went a bit faster than normal, although Plum Girl's reaction did calm his heart from a quick gallop to a spirited prance. Plum Girl spoke from the door.

"Get out. I won't tell you twice." She stepped to the side to make way for his apparent departure.

Dan brought his leading foot forward then pulled it back and stood his ground. He could see the outline of her features in the dim room which made it easy to notice how her eyes slitted in response to his movements. He licked his lips and began to speak then – in contrast to his previous prayer – praying that he had drank enough water so it did not come out hoarse.

"I want to be your partner, or service boy, title doesn't really matter." He looked to the side at the sight of the lightness of her teeth as she let her lips part in a lazy expression; right, she must have been tired. Dan amended his speech to be significantly shorter as he ran it over in his mind. "So, you steal, I turn those jewels and valuables into money and we split the cash; you'd get more obviously."

There was a moment of silence.

"That's not a very convincing argument. You've been here for God knows how long and that's all you came up with?"

Dan pursed his lips at her statement; the speech was a bit too short then. Speech and persuasion never got him many points in class debates, always at the back, but Dan did not spend four and a half months and a chunk of his net worth just to be dismissed without giving a speech to move Plum Girl.

Plum Girl had not finished speaking, but neither had Dan.

"Ok, you want the long version. You're a thief, a thief who steals things and doesn't do anything with it. That's such a waste! There are people out there – like the ones who send law enforcement after you – that would claw at the pavement to get what you take! Including me." Plum Girl's expression contrasted the one of his previous speech, her features were set stiffer, meant to intimidate. Dan continued. "Why waste riches like that? I've lived most of my life in less than ideal conditions, I wasn't born rich so to see you have something that literally everyone I grew up around would grovel for it's – ugh, why! It's – it's like you're trying to insult everyone who actually understands the value of money! Please, I'm-"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do," she interrupted his rant. "Wealth is what made you grow up poor and it's why majority of the city can't afford to be comfortable. Because of money, the people go through so much because of it. So, the rich get their riches taken away so they know what it's like to fear for their monetary lifestyles."

While the darkness still concealed her eyes, Dan imagined that they looked at him with distain. "You misunderstand me. I don't appreciate that you think that gives you the right to reprimand me." She again stepped pointedly to the side, the way out unobscured but Dan still saw an obstacle keeping him from leaving.

"I'm sorry. I got carried away," he saw her teeth in the lightless room, "but still. We all know money is the root of all evil, but what you are doing won't really benefit anyone. Plus a lot of the jewels you steal have insurance on them, you steal them and the owners get paid for it." Her lips closed again.

"Well, it's a small business. I can't steal money yet. I told you I wouldn't tell you again so," she extended her arm to the side, again directing the attention to the door.

"That's how I could help, I-" The sound of Plum Girl's boots dropping to the hardwood floor as she took them off stopped him. Dan watched as she stretched her arms back and above her head, then cracked her neck with a muttered "'m too tired for this" before she looked his way again. She approached him, like a tiger to a sheep, the analogy supplied by Dan's own mind as he stood entranced and a bit paralyzed the more her beautiful face came into view as the moonlight exposed her.

Once she stood directly in front of him, she tipped on her toes and held the side of his neck. The fear came once the oxygen entered his lungs but by that time the surroundings had lost its colour and he faded to a world of black sight and white noise.

Dan very much expected to wake up at the bottom of a body of water with just enough time to realize as much before he drowned. Maybe with a diamond in the sand near him, the full package he was promised. Instead he woke up during a fever dream of the week after his nineteenth birthday, when his mother had died and the non-existent life insurance left him in the resulting position. Then he realized it was real.

He laid in an alley with the morning sun which woke him up. His back cracked a little as he sat up and took in his surroundings, it was indistinguishable from most alleys in the city apart from the colour of the yellow dumpster. It struck him as familiar but he wasn't sure how exactly. Once he'd stepped onto the street a few minutes later he knew how.

The little shop on the other side of the street for his apartment building had stripping yellow paint, like its dumpster. It was a small to go restaurant which sold food greasy enough to hide the lack of actual flavor. Dining there was a horror story waiting to happen.

He looked around a bit, up and down the street at the run down shops on ground level of a few apartment buildings. Lucky thing Plum Girl left him at that shop, he would not have recognized any of the others. Dan could not remember the last time he stopped to look at his neighbourhood, or anywhere for that matter. He would have to ask Marcus if he had the same dilemma, the next time they met up, which might be soon afterward. He looked across the street to where his apartment window was.

So Plum Girl hadn't killed him, hadn't done anything but give him a sore back. Well she had refused to consider his offer – if it could be called that – but that was emotional bruising.

He made his way across the empty street. Very few people were out this time of the morning, dawn came too late for his neighbours who had to walk blocks to get to work. The walk up the stairs let him know that his thigh was still stiff from his street bed, it cramped on him halfway up the stairs. The rest of the walk up went slower but once he made it onto his beloved – still tough – couch, all his muscles relaxed.