Chapter 3
Anastasia adjusted her dress to show slightly more cleavage while she waited for her roommate, Trina to change her clothes. Trina spotted Ana making herself even more beautiful than she already was. The healthy level of envy she held for Ana creeped up a few more notches. How do women get so damn beautiful without even trying?
Raven black straight hair, soulful ice-blue eyes, awesome clear white skin, Ana was a knockout. Trina thought it a shame Ana couldn’t find a boyfriend that hadn’t tried to knock her out. This last guy had seemed decent, but then he turned stalker after Ana decided she’d grown bored with his antics.
Ana had a real thing for assholes. Trina watched as Ana dabbed cover up on her arm to hide the latest bruises from her ex-boyfriend. A strikingly beautiful shit-storm of trouble––Ana attracted trouble like no one else. “You know he’s still out there looking for you. Why don’t you file a protection order against him?”
Ana sighed, “He’ll get over it. They usually do after a month or two. The cops told me last time they didn’t want to see me back in the station all beat up. They think I’m some kinda freaky masochist!”
Trina stared at her. Well aren’t you?
“Why are you getting all dressed up? I thought we made a pact, no more assholes!” Trina wished she looked half as good as Ana on a bad hair day.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m sworn off men! They can’t all be assholes!”
That’s Ana, the perpetual optimist. Trina thought she needed a reality check. Ana never saw the rotten apples littering the ground as she continually reached for the rare golden apple on the tree. Ana had stepped in a lot of rotten apples in her lifetime. She should have learned by now.
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Ana looked sharply at her roommate, sensing the undertones of negative tension, the jealousy. It was a common emotion in her life. The men she dated were often jealous to the point of violence. She wished she didn’t have to deal with it from her roommate.
She had a very acute sense of intuition; some might even call it a latent psychic ability. Her father believed himself psychic, descended from a long line of crystal ball wielding fortune tellers. She had accepted the fact she could intuit many things from the people around her. It was an essential survival skill in the whirlwind mess of her daily life.
She sighed again, hoping this wouldn’t become a repeat of other situations she was all too familiar with, jealous girlfriends turned catty because their boyfriends spent way too much time gawking at her. She couldn’t help her beauty. Some days it seemed more a curse than a blessing.
Trina snapped at her with a heavy dose of cynicism. “Sure baby, they aren’t all assholes. I think the actual statistic is ninety-nine percent. But I’m sure you’ll find that special one percent guy at a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert!”
“There’s the spirit! You betcha, I’m gonna find that special one tonight. I gotta good feeling about this!” The intuition kicked in hard. Ana felt certain tonight would bring someone very important into her life.
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