Dating Father Time's Daughter (Book 1)

Chapter 4: The Difference between Planning and Plotting

Despite the reported temperature of this warm May night hitting the mid-70's, something produced a windchill. Or maybe, someone. As stuffed and satisfied customers exited the Freedom Fries restaurant, a young man (22) stood outside the transparent revolving-door and intensely glared at the bruised employee working behind the register. The customers, who entered and exited the fast-food establishment, made it their mission to avoid any contact with the young man. He scared them.

The young man wore an unbuttoned dark-blue puffer vest that exposed his impressive physique; accentuated by his eight pack abs. A light-gray beanie with a pom on top hid the short blue hair that peeked from underneath his beanie and formed a bang over his forehead. His icicle-blue jeans matched the various icicle-blue tattoos riddled across his arms and neck: snowmen, snowflakes, polar bears, wolves, and the moon. Furthermore, the young man had a snake bite piercing, a moon nose ring, and a stud eyebrow piercing on the left side of his face. The piercings were not made of gold or silver, but solid ice.

Meanwhile, inside of Freedom Fries, Joe continued his conversation with Pixie. The restaurant was quieting down as the dinner rush came to a peaceful end. So, he was afforded the luxury of prolonging his conversation with her beyond that of the typical customer-employee exchange.

"I'm glad I got to see you again. Sorry about the other night" said Joe, his voice trailing off at the end.

Pixie raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her drink before speaking,

"What are you apologizing for? You didn't try to force me to go out on a date with you."

The mere utterance of the word "date" from Pixie painted Joe's entire face red. He pressed random numbers on the register and smiled nervously. Pixie studied his reaction with dutiful eyes. The amount of attention Pixie paid Joe was foreign to him. He wasn't used to any woman, let alone a woman as attractive as Pixie, devoting so much of her vision on a lowly figure like himself.

"Oh, you're right. I guess I'm used to apologizing for stuff... anything really" mumbled Joe.

Pixie pushed her hair behind her ear and leaned in closer to Joe's face.

"What did you say?"

"I was just... it wasn't important," said Joe.

Pixie giggled and pulled away from the counter.

"I'm having such a hard time understanding your sense of humor, but I'm sure spending more time with you could help" she said with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Wait what? You're going to eat here everyday too?" replied Joe.

"Huh? That's not what I meant at all. Why'd you think that?"

"Well, I work here pretty much everyday, so you could see me during my shifts. But, that might not be true because I sometimes work drive-thru or fry cook. Now that I think about it, you're right! You could eat here everyday and never see me at all... like I don't exist" Joe said with wide eyes and his palms on his forehead.

Pixie sipped the last of her soda and set the cup on the counter. She smiled towards the ground for a brief moment, which nevertheless captured Joe's soul for eternity. He blushed hard as Pixie looked up and locked eyes with him.

"Joe. Would you like to go out on a date with me?"

"Yes!"

Joe's tongue answered faster than his brain could properly register Pixie's request. He reasoned that seeing her once was dumb luck, seeing her twice was a coincidence, but seeing her thrice was destiny. A goofy grin permanently rested on his face.

"Perfect! Let's go to the Riverpark restaurant in Midtown! It has a gorgeous view, you'll love it! I'll make the reservation and we'll meet outside. Is tomorrow at seven good?" asked Pixie.

The excitement pouring out of her distracted Joe from the realization that he needed to check his work schedule before confirming a time with Pixie. Then, much to Joe's fortune, a co-worker walked by on his way out for the night singing a happy tune,

"T-G-I-F, T-G-I-F, It's Friiiiiiidaaaaay!"

The vocal riffs and runs of the co-worker catalyzed Joe's memory. Joe was off on weekends, which meant he had the free time to spend with Pixie. Quickly, Joe regained his senses and confirmed his date with her.

"See you then," said Pixie with a wave as she exited through the transparent revolving-door.

Joe felt his heart stop as he replayed the previous conversation over and over in his mind. The approach of a customer desperately fighting back a sneeze, reminded Joe that he was still on the clock.

"AAAchooo!" sneezed the customer into his elbow.

"Need a napkin, sir?" said Joe.

He instinctively reached for the stack of napkins to his left, but felt his hand knock over an empty soda cup instead. As Joe and the customer both looked down at the empty cup rolling clockwise on the ground, another realization hit Joe. He forgot to ring up Pixie's price, and so she had left without paying. Joe patted his pants pocket and sighed in relief at the feel of the crisp dollar bill that sat in his pocket. He couldn't risk the chance of his register coming up short at the end of his shift, so Joe settled on covering the cost for Pixie.

He considered it good practice before his date.

Outside of the restaurant, Pixie stepped out of the revolving-door and felt a familiar chill in the air. She paused and readied herself for a potential threat. Slowly, she moved her eyes to the left and stared at the empty space beside her.

Above Pixie, on the roof of the Freedom Fries restaurant, stood the young man from earlier. His crystal shaped arctic-blue eyes followed Pixie as she faced forward and began her walk down the street. A cold cloud of fog flowed from the young man's mouth as he exhaled.

"Riverpark? That's a pretty upscale restaurant. How could a fry cook afford to take you there?"

His voice had a husky drawl and he exaggerated the pronunciation of his vowels. The young man smirked and released a second cloud of fog from his lips.

"Be a shame if you and your boy had a..."

He licked his freakishly long canine teeth that scratched the pink gums at the base of his mouth.

"Disaster date."