- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Online Availability
- It varies day to day!
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Modern, Medieval, Odd Pairings
It was one-thirty on a chilly Chicago afternoon, and Coffee Alley was filled to the brim with customers seeking out some warmth from the winter weather. The barista was wiping beads of sweat off her forehead, but the teenaged cashier, Chad, was wearing the largest smile you'd ever seen, full of giddy greetings and "good mornings!" For at the back of the line, he saw his favorite customer. Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, he could set his watch to her arrival now, so much show that he asked to work these shifts specifically.
Of course, Chad was struck by her appearance first of all. The customer was a few years older than him, but her doe-eyed complexion almost made Chad think he had a chance with her. An elegant wisp of a woman, it seemed like she spent hours braiding her hair each morning, but that would be worth it. Her natural deep red hair had every strand in place, cascading under a waterfall braid that stopped just short of her bodice. She always wore a dress as well, and more often than not she was clad entirely in pink. But if it was her looks that captivated her, it was the way she spoke that put him in a daze.
"Good afternoon, Chaddy!" The girl greeted him with her elbows propped up on the counter. Chad had been daydreaming so much he might have missed it, but her voice pulled him right back. She spoke with a nasally sort of southern charm that he couldn't identify, but it made him stutter when he responded to her.
"Oh, h-hey! It's great to see you Dahlia," Chad said bashfully, getting a waft of her sickly sweet perfume and grinning. "Your usual, I assume? Chai tea latte, right?" He asked, already getting her cup ready.
"Am I that predictable already? You think I should switch it up sometime Chaddy?" Dahlia asked, handing him a wrinkled twenty with an apologetic scrunched face smile.
Chaddy, it made his heart melt.
"Not if you like it! Everybody needs some sort of signature, hey?" Chad retorted, passing her cup off to a quizzical looking barista, while the customer behind Dahlia tapped his foot. "It will be ready in a second Dollie, thanks for coming!"
"No darling, thank you!" With that, Dahlia squeezed his hand gently from across the counter before shuffling over to wait for her latte. Her drink arrived with the name "Dollie," and a little, winking smiley face that made Dahlia grin, if only the boy were ten years older. With a quick thanks to the barista, Dahlia found one of the last tables for two in the house. She would be waiting for an hour now, so she brought along a copy of The Sea Wolf by Jack London to pass the time.
It was almost a month now, she almost had to stop going out of her way to get here every Tuesday and Thursday. But for now, she needed to keep her eye out for Buddy Jenkins.
----
"Defense: And at the time of Mr. Vendrel'ls murder you were working as a prostitute for this event, correct?
OMITTED: I prefer the term 'courtesan,' Mr. Jenkins but yes, and I hope you don't intend to be cruel based on that. I was paid to be therefor the night by Mr. Vendrell. I got there at nine o'clock and the shot was fired at twelve twenty-seven that morning. Mr. Pollard held the smoking gun. The police showed up afterwards but before they did… Mr. Pollard said he would kill me, Mr. Jenkins… I don't want him to kill me…"
The transcript went on for a few more pages, it had largely been forgotten about, and one Robert Pollard was walking free because of it. It was mishandled, and the witness was missing because of it. Buddy Jenkins was the lawyer who conducted the interview, the transcript stayed in his office, but now the office no longer belonged to Buddy.
The police had checked for any sign of a struggle but as far as anyone could tell, Buddy had just up and left, taking only a few personal items and a photo of him and his partner. His old boss was looking through his abandoned cases now; they would have to get new people on all of them. A curious folder caught his eye, marked "Pollard, R." As he leafed through it, the witness testimony stood out, because there was no identification.
"This is going to be a headache if I've ever seen one." He muttered to himself, scooping up the rest of the files and flicking off the abandoned office lights. The pile of folders was left on his secretary's desk to be redistributed. Whatever Buddy had done, it was somebody else's headache now.
Of course, Chad was struck by her appearance first of all. The customer was a few years older than him, but her doe-eyed complexion almost made Chad think he had a chance with her. An elegant wisp of a woman, it seemed like she spent hours braiding her hair each morning, but that would be worth it. Her natural deep red hair had every strand in place, cascading under a waterfall braid that stopped just short of her bodice. She always wore a dress as well, and more often than not she was clad entirely in pink. But if it was her looks that captivated her, it was the way she spoke that put him in a daze.
"Good afternoon, Chaddy!" The girl greeted him with her elbows propped up on the counter. Chad had been daydreaming so much he might have missed it, but her voice pulled him right back. She spoke with a nasally sort of southern charm that he couldn't identify, but it made him stutter when he responded to her.
"Oh, h-hey! It's great to see you Dahlia," Chad said bashfully, getting a waft of her sickly sweet perfume and grinning. "Your usual, I assume? Chai tea latte, right?" He asked, already getting her cup ready.
"Am I that predictable already? You think I should switch it up sometime Chaddy?" Dahlia asked, handing him a wrinkled twenty with an apologetic scrunched face smile.
Chaddy, it made his heart melt.
"Not if you like it! Everybody needs some sort of signature, hey?" Chad retorted, passing her cup off to a quizzical looking barista, while the customer behind Dahlia tapped his foot. "It will be ready in a second Dollie, thanks for coming!"
"No darling, thank you!" With that, Dahlia squeezed his hand gently from across the counter before shuffling over to wait for her latte. Her drink arrived with the name "Dollie," and a little, winking smiley face that made Dahlia grin, if only the boy were ten years older. With a quick thanks to the barista, Dahlia found one of the last tables for two in the house. She would be waiting for an hour now, so she brought along a copy of The Sea Wolf by Jack London to pass the time.
It was almost a month now, she almost had to stop going out of her way to get here every Tuesday and Thursday. But for now, she needed to keep her eye out for Buddy Jenkins.
----
"Defense: And at the time of Mr. Vendrel'ls murder you were working as a prostitute for this event, correct?
OMITTED: I prefer the term 'courtesan,' Mr. Jenkins but yes, and I hope you don't intend to be cruel based on that. I was paid to be therefor the night by Mr. Vendrell. I got there at nine o'clock and the shot was fired at twelve twenty-seven that morning. Mr. Pollard held the smoking gun. The police showed up afterwards but before they did… Mr. Pollard said he would kill me, Mr. Jenkins… I don't want him to kill me…"
The transcript went on for a few more pages, it had largely been forgotten about, and one Robert Pollard was walking free because of it. It was mishandled, and the witness was missing because of it. Buddy Jenkins was the lawyer who conducted the interview, the transcript stayed in his office, but now the office no longer belonged to Buddy.
The police had checked for any sign of a struggle but as far as anyone could tell, Buddy had just up and left, taking only a few personal items and a photo of him and his partner. His old boss was looking through his abandoned cases now; they would have to get new people on all of them. A curious folder caught his eye, marked "Pollard, R." As he leafed through it, the witness testimony stood out, because there was no identification.
"This is going to be a headache if I've ever seen one." He muttered to himself, scooping up the rest of the files and flicking off the abandoned office lights. The pile of folders was left on his secretary's desk to be redistributed. Whatever Buddy had done, it was somebody else's headache now.