Pretty Planes

Chapter One

She sold corn in the middle of a parking complex. She set up before I pulled into my spot at six in the morning, and remained there when I brought my lunch back to my car at one thirty. She tied her greasy brown hair in two braids along both sides of her head, and she smudged her mirrored glasses when readjusting them with sweaty fingers. Her ripped skinny jeans hung low on her hips and loosened around her legs, and her unzipped, off-brand hoodie flowed behind her when the breeze rolled though. She munched on a chocolate bar from a candy shop around the corner with a full bag on her lap. She swung her legs back and forth off the edge of her muddy red pickup and glared at cars that drove by without giving her a second glance. 

I finished half my sandwich when she spotted me, or rather, when I assumed she found me since her sunglasses hid her eyes and her stone face told me little of her thoughts. My lunch tempted me to ignore her and continue eating, but she watched me.

I placed my lunch on a napkin in the passenger seat, and opened my door, careful not to hit the asshole's car who parked too close to my Porsche. I ambled up to her, stopping five feet away, and like every gentleman, I did nothing more than stare.

She stilled her legs, letting them dangle off the side, loose threads hanging off the hem of her pants. Her feet didn't come close to touching the ground, and up close I saw she couldn't be more than five foot one, if that, and between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. Even with her face covered in dirt it was clear she was beautiful. A white rim circled her full pink lips, and I had the strange urge to reach up and touch them. 

"Are you buying, or what?" she snapped. I knitted my eyebrows together. Businesses ran with that kind of attitude never made it very far. "What's that look for?"

"You're not a very good salesperson," I told her. She folded her arms and pouted, pushing her bottom lip out. "Where are you from?" I asked. 

"Like I'm telling you."

"How about you tell me what farm you got these from?"

I thought I saw her hard expression soften, but I could've imagined it. "Lots of them," she said.

Her vague answer peaked my curiosity; she hid something. I teetered on the edge of attempting to figure it out or just buying some corn off the poor girl. I glanced down at my watch, and with the hands approaching the two, I had to go with the latter. I said, "Alright, how much?"

"Dollar each."

"That's a bit much, don't you think?"

"That's a pretty expensive car, don't you think?" A small smirk played at the corner of her lips, but she suppressed it, returning to her emotionless persona.

"Touche. Five then." I offered her a warm smile, but she didn't return it.

She tossed her bag of sweets off to the side and climbed on all fours to a basket of cobs, her ass pointed at me. I averted my eyes, but I couldn't help thinking about it. She returned with five ears stuffed in a generic plastic bag with 'thank you' printed in thick red letters. I fumbled around in my suit pocket for my wallet and pulled out a ten.

"I don't have change." She snatched it from me, dropped it in her candy bag, and stuffed five more ears into my bag.

She hopped down and reached for her belongings. She bumped into me as she climbed into her truck and started her engine, it sputtering and growling. She didn't five me much time to move out of the way before she backed out and sped away.

Two o'clock approached at an alarming rate, and I had a meeting scheduled months in advance to attend, but my feet wouldn't move; I stared at the spot she parked her truck. I decided I couldn't have a successful session with my mind preoccupied, and rang my secretary to cancel the appointment. I slumped in my car until the sun set, and must've fallen asleep since a rapid knocking on my window jerked me awake. A security guard, with a round beer belly hanging over his belt and a demeanor that implied if something occurred he wouldn't be much use, ordered me to leave. I cruised back to my penthouse, and it hit me how ditching a client without a plausible reason could be a disaster for my already criticized reputation. A pit formed in my stomach.

I pulled into an alley between "Suzie's", an Italian restaurant with mediocre food but magnificent baked goods, and a bar. I shifted into park and rested my forehead on the steering wheel, contemplating if I should call my office and be ridiculed by my account manager, Shannon, or wait until tomorrow to feel her wrath. Sighing, I raised my head and reached for my phone, but the back end of a red truck struck my attention. The failt sound on an argument came from that direction; I tried to ignore it, telling myself that she, if it was her, was probably in a fit with a customer, but a slap I couldn't ignore. I jumped out and raced to the end of the two buildings and into the perpendicular lane. The girl was backed against a wall with a drunk man more than double her age pressing himself onto her. Her cheek was pink.

"Hey!" I yelled. His head snapped to me, and he shuffled back. Stumbling, he fled down the path and out of sight. 

The girl slid down the wall, clearly intoxicated herself, and looked up at me. I can't let her drive, I told myself. I crouched down beside her. She still wore her sunglasses, and I lifted them off her face, bringing her bright blue eyes out of their protective cage. Despite her state, I still couldn't read her.

"Where do you live?" I asked her.

"Like I'm telling you."

"Knock that off and tell me." She looked away, refusing to answer. I deepened my voice, and in the sternest tone I could muster up, said, "Right now."

She locked gazes with me and said, "No."

I was lost, clueless about what I should do. She wouldn't cooperate and I couldn't leave her. "You have two options. Tell me where you live, or I'm taking you back to my place for the night."

"No."

I stood up, her eyes following me, and swung her over my shoulder. She took a sharp inhale and struggled against me as I carried her to my car, but I held her down. I prayed no one saw me. I wouldn't have a good explanation for the police. I flung the door open, scratching it against the bricks, and placed her in the backseat. She twisted and turned, fighting me while I fastened her seat belt, and I hurried around to my side to engage the child lock. My car sped backward, throwing pebbles and dust forward, and we sailed out to my penthouse. 

If I thought ditching a meeting was bad, I couldn't imagine the media getting their hands on this. 

She calmed down, settling with pouting, but she refused to talk. She was a mess; strands of hair unwound from her braids, alcohol stained her tank top, the soles of her shoes worn down, dirt clumped under her nails, and bruises covered her knuckles and elbows. But she was a cute mess. She dozed off as I pulled into my spot, and she looked peaceful. I tucked her into my bed and made myself a place on the couch. I stared at the ceiling, thinking about how I had the strange girl who sold corn in the middle of the city sleeping in my bed. Who I abducted.

It dawned on me that I could've called the police instead of bringing her home. 

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I usually give a preview like this to gauge if it's worthy to be posted or not. Five votes and three comments for chapter two.