Not Quite What It Seems

Chapter 1: Nightly Walk

The days are long as all days are long. Job hunting isn't for the weak and in this situation the weak is me. I walk along the sidewalk back to my apartment briskly, recounting the day. The annoyed saleswomen who didn't want to look at me, the angered restaurant manager who had no time to do an interview. It was difficult not having many skills outside of the streets.
The night sky beamed above me, and I tried to stay under the streetlamps. "I need a job," I mutter to myself, kicking a rock and watching it spin out in front of me. I've said it so many times this week it began to sound like a prayer, a plea to any god who might be listening. My apartment was only maybe another block away, but the area wasn't great so it always felt longer. The sides of old buildings with cracked windows and peeling paint I passed made that fact all the more obvious. I've always been adept at observing my surroundings. I know not to wear headphones, take shortcuts, or talk to strangers, but that doesn't necessarily mean I should be out this late. It was routine for me though, the night air helped me clear my head.
I hear the footsteps behind me again. Ah yes, I had almost forgotten about that little problem. They started a couple blocks down and their soft patter on the sidewalk had been getting closer and closer. I took in my surroundings again. There was a bench nearby, directly under another streetlamp, no passing cars, and no one else in sight. "Fuck," i whisper to myself, realizing ill probably have to cross the street to avoid this guy. The last thing I want is for this to get physical.
My thoughts snap in half when the man suddenly appears at my side. His hand clamping around my arm like a trap. I let out a yelp, the sound that leaves my throat embarrassingly small, swallowed by the empty night. I try to pull myself from his grasp, and take a step back to no avail. He begins dragging me away like I weigh nothing at all.
"Not so fast, little lady," the man says in a slimy voice, looking at me with wild eyes. For a heartbeat, I'm frozen in place, breath caught and my limbs useless. Im stuck unable to react as the man goes to grab me by waist in an attempt to pick me up and haul me off my feet. I should have known this would happen, being kidnapped in the middle of the night is quite on brand for me.
My body tenses to fight but I never get the chance. The man who grabbed me is suddenly yanked backward and slammed into the pavement with bone cracking force. A tall man stands over him, his black hair falling across a jagged scar that slashes over one eye. Fresh blood smeared across his fist. He just hit him.
I blink hard and stumble back, my instincts telling me to run. Time seems to stop when I look up and make eye contact with the second man. This was the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He's beautiful in a way that knocks the breath out of me and dampens every instinct in my body to get away. His gaze flicks from me to the guy on the ground, his chest rising and falling. His dark hair falls in layered waves around his face, the scar over his eye only making him look more unreal.
I physically take another step back this time, "uhhhh, thank you?" I said, not knowing what to do in this situation. Apparently my brain has abandoned me.
"Are you okay?" he asks me, his brows furrowed, almost like he was confused about something.
"Yeah, yeah,he only grabbed me" I say exhaling, noting the man's clothes. He was wearing black pants and a green jacket, the raised scar cutting through his eye catching in the light.
He looked back down at the man and pulled out his phone. He appeared to be texting someone. How strange this is. I let out an awkward laugh and went to turn away.
"Let me walk you home," he said. A statement, not a question. His expression was different now, his eyes widened slightly, like something about me had caught him off guard.
"Do I know you?" I asked, thrown off by his expression, his straightforwardness catching me off guard.
He looked me over for just a beat before speaking. "No" he hesitates again, "I thought you were someone else."
His hand made his way to his hair as if to brush it back and he turned in the direction I was originally walking. "C'mon" he said, causing me to blink this time
"What?" I questioned.
He gave me an incredulous look. "Lets keep walking"
I stay where I am, my feet planted. "Why?"
His patience must be wearing thin because his eyes squint at me before he speaks again. "Becasue, if the cops show up I'm gonna have to explain to them why there is an unconscious man behind us and I'd rather not have a discussion with the police tonight."
He's right actually, i dont need a run in with them tonight either.
He begins in the direction of my apartment and I follow him, though suspicion prickled at me. I hadn't seen anyone nearby whenever I contemplated where to run. How had he been out of sight, but still able to come to my rescue almost immediately? For this reason i stay out of reach as we walk, keeping my hands out of my pockets and ready for if he tries anything. He seemed merely relaxed next to me though, his hands hidden in his green jacket, his face a perfect picture of calm, as if this isn't unusual at all.
The street stretched quiet around us, lit only by the occasional flickering of a street lamp. The pavement was uneven, patched in places where the city had tried and failed to fix it. A warm humid breeze drifted through the block, carrying the faint smell of old oil and damp concrete. We walk almost a block in silence,our footsteps echoing softly in the empty night.
He broke the quiet when he caught me glancing behind us for what had to be the thousandth time. "He won't be following us."
I click my tongue, hugging my arms around myself, "How do you know that?" I ask, doubting he could have that information with full certainty.
'"I just do."
Well wasn't he full of information and answers. I decided to let it go, but i dont dont dare put my guard down.The street narrowed ahead, lined with old brick buildings whose windows glowed faintly from cheap bulbs inside.
After another few beats of silence he speaks up again, "What's your name?"
"Violet" I say curtly.
He nodded at me, as if my name was confirmation.
"So, do you always walk alone at night or is this a new thing for you." he asks abruptly.
I scoff at him. What kind of question is that? "Uhhh, sometimes I guess" I say, looking at him wearily.
He nodded again at my answer as if it was perfectly satisfactory. What is up with this guy? Another beat passed, the sound of a car rumbling from somewhere behind us.
"You from here?" he asked, glancing sideways at me. His watchful eyes not telling what he was thinking.
I didn't answer immediately. I couldn't exactly say no, it doesn't go with my story and I know the area far too well due to all the time I've spent here with my last job.
"Yeah." I decided to say. "I grew up just outside of town." It was a lie. I actually grew up about 2 hours away, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I looked at it now, and noticed his brow was scrunched as if my answer troubled him.
"What about you?" I ask, just to be nice.
He nods his head yes, but doesn't answer out loud. Another beat passes. Another question. "Howd you end up in this neighborhood?"
"You mean the ghetto?" I laugh, my eyes crinkling at the sides.
He stares at me for a second before answering, "I wouldn't call it that"
"What would you call it then?" I inquired, giving him a once over, "most people don't almost get snatched off of any other street."
He slightly smiles before speaking again, "a woman can be targeted anywhere. Besides, I like the term, 'undeserved communities.'"
I shake my head at him, my blonde layers falling over my shoulders in wispy movement. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." I deliberately let silence fill the air without answering his question. The buildings around us were worn, paint peeling, windows barred, trash cans dented from years of use. People lived here because they had to, that much was obvious.
He notices my hesitance, and much to my annoyance, instead asks yet another question, "What do you do for work?"
I responded without thinking this time, "Aren't you nosey?"
He chuckled, running his fingers through his dark hair. I caught a glimpse of his scar again. The raised imperfection goes from just above his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek, straight over his eye. It must be a wonder the eye itself isn't damaged.
"I'm just making conversion." he says. His voice is deep, with the lilt of an accent, not necessarily the kind of accent you get from overseas, but an accent you hear in rougher parts of the area. It was familiar in a way.
I roll my eyes at him, "I am between jobs at the moment."
"I see," his tone was tight. Unreadable.
My apartment complex came into view, just a few more doors down, but I decided at that moment maybe this man I've never met before shouldn't know where I live. Before he could ask me another question I stopped abruptly and pointed to the closest apartment building to us. "This is me"
He looks at the building and then back at me. He stared for only a moment before nodding.
"Would you like me to walk you in?" he asked.
"No, no, it's okay really" I say, fidgeting with a strand of my hair, looking back towards the entrance of the building.
"One more thing before you go" he says and I turn to see his hand is outstretched with a business card.
"I know someone hiring. It's an assistant position if you want to check it out."
I grab the card from him and inspect it. The slick card has only an address, a name, and Bangtan Corp, in big black letters written on it.
"Thank you," I say, before turning away and throwing a hand over my shoulder in a wave goodbye, and walking into the building. Luckily for me there was no key code required to enter like most apartments, so I wasn't automatically exposed for being a liar.
I slip into the lobby, letting the heavy door thud shut behind me. The space is dim, lit by a single buzzing fluorescent panel overhead. I round the corner to the nearest window, pressing myself close enough that the cool glass chills my cheek. Through the warped reflection, I watch the street.
A few seconds pass before I see the tall man turn back toward the direction we came from. He pauses, shakes his head once, almost like he's disappointed in something unseen, then continues walking. His lean silhouette grows smaller with each step until the night swallows him whole.
The moment he disappears, I move.
I slip out the front door and sprint down the block, my shoes slapping against the uneven pavement. The air tastes like rust and humidity, and my breath comes out in sharp bursts. I don't stop until I reach my actual building, a squat, aging structure with chipped paint and a crooked mailbox. I shove inside, climb the old worn stairs two at a time, and seal myself into my apartment with a final, shaky exhale.
The place greets me like it always does: tired, quiet, familiar. The wallpaper curls at the edges, yellowed from years of humidity. The overhead bulb flickers, casting uneven shadows across the warped floorboards. It's a space that feels like it's been holding its breath for years. I understand that in a way most people wouldn't.
I toss my jacket onto the couch and catch sight of myself in the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. I step closer.
My reflection looks... rattled.
My blonde layers are mussed from running, falling over my shoulders in wispy, uneven strands. My cheeks are flushed, my lips parted like I'm still catching my breath. There's a faint smudge of dirt on my jaw, probably from when that man grabbed me. My eyes, usually a soft hazel, look sharper tonight, wide and alert, still carrying the adrenaline of the street. I look like someone who's been through something. Someone who's used to it.
I sigh and flop onto my bed, the worn mattress dipping under my weight. I kick off my shoes and stretch out my legs, letting the tension drain from my muscles. What an interesting night.
I pull the business card from my pocket and hold it up to the flickering light.
Zane Carter - Bangtan Corp.
No number. No email. Just an address and a name printed in bold black letters. It feels more like a dare than an invitation.
I suppose I'll have to go into the office tomorrow to see if it's legit. Or to see what kind of person hands out job leads after knocking someone unconscious.
My head sinks into the pillow, thoughts drifting, finally slowing. But just as sleep begins to pull at me, one realization hits with a quiet, inconvenient thud:
I never got his name.

''''''

I walked the beaten sidewalk back to where we started, the street lamps flickering above me. I tuck my hands into my pockets and shake my head slightly. She had gone into her building quickly, as if running away from me at that moment.
Except, that wasn't even her building.
I had watched her leave the one three doors down just earlier today. Yet, she had gone inside a different one. I stood and watched for a second, no light came on, no shadows crossed a window. I wasn't mistaken in the fact that she had lied to me.
A smile drew at my lips, tugging on that scar on my cheek. I almost respected her for it to be honest. That one instance showed me a glimpse into her as a person. Quick thinking and cautiousness of a stranger are good qualities to have.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out.
Tabby: You good?
I type back immediately.
Yes. Did you take care of the problem?
The man that attacked her was lucky i didnt beat him to death right then and there when I watched him put his hands on Violet. I had seen red, jumping to action before I could think about the fact that I had not yet properly introduced myself to her. Besides, I couldn't have her see me in that light tonight. I wouldn't have been her savior, but instead just another dangerous man.
My phone chimed again with Tabby's response.
Tabby: I got him from the alleyway. He's with Travis now.
A wave of annoyance flushes through me.
Tell Travis to leave him be. Ill take care of him when i get there
And I would. It'll be the last time he attacks a woman on the street.
Another message pops onto my screen.
Tabby: And what about the girl?
I still can't quite believe it. She was no longer just a piece of paper, or a grainy photograph, or a dead end. She was here. Violet.
I had spent days since finally finding her watching from a distance. I was learning her routine, and the places she visited. How she walks faster when she's annoyed and talks to herself when she thinks no one is listening. I didn't plan on getting close enough to hear her voice, or walk beside her tonight. It has been fate pushing them together if anything.
She told me she was from here though, and that's one remark I can't get out of my head. How could it be? She said it so casually, as if it explained everything. It explained nothing actually. If Violet had really been from here, why had it taken so long for me to find her? I had asked questions, and followed leads and records, yet it was like she was a ghost. Until she appeared one day, simply walking by me in the city. I recognized her immediately, almost tripping over my own feet when I saw her.
It bothers me now that she lied to me. She had deliberately not wanted me to know where she lived. I couldn't blame her for it I suppose, but it does make me wonder what else she's lied about already.
She is fine.
I replied to Tabby quickly, not feeling as if I owe any more explanation.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed for my black Mercedes on the side of the street. The streetlight above it buzzed, casting a faint halo over the hood. I paused with my hand on the door, glancing one more in the direction of her building.
When I had given Violet that card it was on a whim. One perfect moment where instinct and opportunity aligned.. Maybe she'll show up at the office or maybe she won't. But regardless of what she chooses, I'll be waiting for her.