Of Apartments, Boutiques, and Bars

And that’s the thing about this city. No one really looks beyond the clubs, casinos, bars, and all that other crap. No one cares about the rest of the city. No one cares about the people on the street. No one cares about the people struggling to get a single scrap of food. Every. Single. Day. I mean, who would?

A loud knocking suddenly erupted on the other side of the door leading to the crummy apartment Jessalyn lived in. She glanced up, the color dripping from her face like a popsicle on a hot summer day. She started shaking, but she didn’t move in any other way.

The knocking grew louder and louder until the neighbors started yelling about it. The walls were so thin, every sound was heard. A small, sad sigh echoed in every room that was near.

A tiny tear dripped down Jessalyn’s acne-masked face. She ran her sweaty hands through her short, choppy hair and shakily stood up. 

When she opened the door, a man of great height stared down at her. He had a frown on his wide face, and his nose was long and pointed. The man’s hair was slicked back with an extreme amount of gel, and his hands were clasped behind his back.

Jessalyn dared to stare back at the man, although she was not near as intimidating. The man shoved his hand in front of his striped-suit expectantly. She knew this day would come. And she could do nothing about it

“Mr. Schumer, please,” the young girl pleaded with all her heart. “A bit longer. I’ll be ready. I promise.”

The man stood even taller which seemed impossible, due to his already immense height. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“Jessalyn, you’ve been saying that for two months now. I’ve already extended the date three times. I’m done. Fetch me the key now.”

And that was when she burst into tears. Jessalyn ran into the cramped apartment and grabbed the key from the plastic bag she used as a purse. It was hard for her, but she had to. For legal reasons, of course. 

Once she returned the key to the man, he grunted and walked away. That meant she had five minutes. Five minutes to grab all of her belongings and get out before the police arrived. She had been through this before. It never got easier.

Jessalyn didn’t have much. She never did. A couple of shirts. A pair of pants. Some undergarments. That was it for the clothes. For food? She barely had anything. An expired bag of pretzels and a half-empty soda was all that resided in the Mini-Fridge in the apartment. And it didn’t even work. She only grabbed the pretzels, though; a plastic bag couldn’t carry much. A ripped-at-the-seams pillow and a tattered blanket was it for comfort. She had a cell phone, but her talk-and-text plan was almost over. Besides, she didn’t even know why she owned a cell phone. She had nothing to do with it; she had no one to call.

Despite her wanting not to, she somehow found her way into the phone’s home screen and then into the iMessaging app. She had one contact. She hadn’t talked to him in over a year. But that didn’t matter. She looked at the recent texts from him. They were things like, Love you, baby; Jessa, have I told you that I loved you today?; Damn, Jessa, you look hot in this pic!; and “Call me when you’re ready, okay? I love you, Jessa. 

“Liar,” Jessalyn whispered, her voice hoarse all of a sudden. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have left me. You wouldn’t have slept with all those other girls. You wouldn’t have lied to me.” She was getting angry now, and her voice was rising. “You’re not different. You’re like the rest of them. So, go ahead, kiss that girl. That girl… Traci! I don’t care about either of you. I don’t care about your life, or how you’re fine without me, and I really don’t care about-”

“Will you shut up already?” a voice called from the room next to mine. “We don’t care about your stupid love life! Give it up already; you scream about this every single night. He obviously likes that Traci girl more than you, so just, like, stop!”

Jessalyn broke down again. She didn’t realize she was screaming. Did she really do this every night? Suddenly, a woman in the room the man that was just screaming at Jessalyn was in started shouting at the man, calling him rude and inconsiderate. And then the entire floor was yelling at each other. This really did happen every night. And it was all Jessalyn’s fault. Or maybe it was Traci’s fault. But it was probably Jessalyn’s fault. That was what she told herself every night. But she couldn’t tonight. Mr. Schumer was at the door again, looking angrier than ever. It was time to go. Before Jessalyn left however, she tossed her phone and diary into her bag. Then, as if it was an afterthought, she threw her phone onto the floor of the studio apartment, letting the screen crack. She didn’t need it. She never did.

It’s hard to be struggling with something your entire life. You just know that it will never end, and there is nothing you can do. Well, there’s nothing I can do. My dad, if he could of just-

“Ahem,” someone said snottily. 

Jessalyn was sitting on the steps to a trendy boutique downtown. She had nowhere else to go, and she settled down to write in her diary. It was what she did when she was stressed. Or lonely. Or just plain bored. Sometimes, it was a combination of the three. 

Jessalyn looked up, her hair falling back from her face. She had debated putting it up earlier but had decided against it. What did it matter?

The girl was standing in front of her, tapping her foot impatiently. “Are you gonna, like, move? I’m waiting.”

The girl was beautiful. She had light brown hair tucked into a sleek ponytail with pieces out that framed her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a light blue that was almost too light, and her lips were dark and round. She wore a short and tight dress with a fluffy overcoat, and she carried a clutch purse. It was probably stuffed with cash.

Jessalyn realized she needed to respond and stop staring at the mysterious woman’s plump lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t mean to be rude when I say this… isn’t the boutique closed?”

The woman huffed loudly and threw back her ponytail. “It is. But I’m the owner, and I have a key,” she stopped for a moment then added, “and I would kindly appreciate it if you could get off of my steps.”

She didn’t say it very nicely, but Jessalyn still moved. After she stepped off of the steps, the woman scoffed and kicked Jessalyn’s diary as she walked past. Jessalyn had forgotten to pick it up. She never forgot things like that.

It was odd. Jessalyn had this weird pull to this woman; she had this yearning to know more. Even though she was a bit of a jerk. Jessalyn’s eyes followed her as she walked up the stairs, and they kept staring until the woman turned around.

“Do you need something?” she asked sassily, “Or are you gonna keep staring at my butt?”

Jessalyn sheepishly turned around. Her cheeks were reddening by the second, and her hands were so sweaty, they slipped when she tried to push them into her pockets.

Jessalyn stayed there for a bit, awkwardly standing outside the boutique filled with overpriced mini-skirts and purses. The woman had gone inside about five minutes before, but Jessalyn was still overwhelmed by her beauty. She was willing to stand outside of the boutique every day, just to watch her walk in and out of it. If she could just catch the name…

Oh. And that was when it hit her. The boutique that the woman owned showed everything that Jessalyn needed to know. It was called, Traci’s Trendy Treats: A Boutique. Jessalyn knew now.

No wonder he had cheated; who would want a broke, ugly girl over a beautiful and confident one? One who had her own business and ran it by herself? The choice was obvious. Jessalyn suddenly couldn’t blame her cheating ex anymore. She would cheat on herself, too. Did everyone feel this pull to Traci that Jessalyn felt?

Two hours later, Jessalyn was looking for a place to sleep for the night. She had nowhere to go, and she was cold and hungry. The city did look beautiful at the time, though.

There were bright lights all around, each trying to outdo the other so that people would go to that bar or something of the sort and get drunk. They were almost hypnotizing, and they made Jessalyn’s head throb. No wonder this town had so many visitors: the night was alive. There was laughter, cheering, and clapping all around. Everyone seemed so happy. That was a large contrast from Jessalyn. The people were having fun. They were partying. And they didn’t have a care in the world. Were they evicted from their apartments? No. Were they struggling to find a place to sleep for the night? Maybe. There were too many hot girls to choose from. Were they wondering how on Earth they would get their next meal? Hell, no. Were they falling for the girl their scumbag ex had cheated on them for? Probably not.

Jessalyn had weird temptations. Sometimes, she felt like she couldn’t control her own body. That was what was happening at that time. Jessalyn was being pulled toward one of the many bars in the area. It was the one with the brightest lights, the most laughter, and the one with the most teenagers throwing up outside. It will do.

She wasn’t even the legal drinking age: she was nineteen. Yet she somehow made it into the bar without being stopped. No one cared; there were probably fifteen-year-olds here for all she knew. Jessalyn was surrounded by people, but no one seemed to cast a second glance at her. Sure, some looked at her curiously, wondering why she was dressed in normal clothes instead of in a spicier outfit, but she didn’t mind.

Jessalyn plopped down on a barstool and sighed. This would have to do for now. It would help her forget her worries, even if it was just for a bit.

“You look like you need a drink,” a man with curly black hair noted, standing behind a counter. He was drying a glass with an old and ripped washcloth. The washcloth reminded her that she was still carrying the plastic bag, filled with her only belongings. She probably looked so stupid. She just didn’t care.

“Do I?” Jessalyn asked wearily.

The man looked up from the glass and smirked. He set it on a shelf behind him and threw the rag into a nearby sink. “I’ve been working this job long enough to just know. Besides, if you’re underage, I won’t tell,” he said. Then he winked and walked away.

Jessalyn sat there for a couple of minutes. She had never been in a bar before, yet she somehow felt at-home. Maybe these people really were all people just trying to forget about their problems. But, that was unlikely.

“Lemme know how this tastes,” the boy said, coming back with a glass. “It’s a new cocktail I’ve been wanting to test out. I think it tastes great, but the old boss-dude thinks otherwise.”

The girl was nervous to drink the beverage, which was understandable. Most girls wanted their first drink to be with others, like their friends. Jessalyn didn’t have friends. Some even waited until they were twenty-one; they would do it with their family. Jessalyn didn’t have a family either. So, here she was, in a bar, homeless and desperate to forget her problems. 

The boy must’ve noticed because he leaned onto the counter, close to Jessalyn. He was so close that Jessalyn could practically taste the beer on his breath. 

“Hey, if you didn’t wanna drink it, you could’ve just told me,” he said, smiling a crooked smile. Jessalyn just looked away.

“Well, um, you probably don’t want to tell me anything, but if something’s wrong, I’ll be your friendly neighborhood bartender and/or therapist,” he said, doing finger-guns. Jessalyn just had to laugh.

It was a strange feeling, but she trusted this guy. She felt like she had known him her entire life. So, she agreed to tell this guy everything. Why would it matter; she would never see him again.

When he asked if she wanted to go somewhere private, Jessalyn couldn’t help but allow her heart to skip a beat. He led her to a secret spiral staircase that led out onto the roof of the building. There was a black metal table and three chairs around it up there. Jessalyn felt like she was on a date. Her last date was when she was with the scumbag. She missed dates.

So, the two of them sat down in two of the three seats and began to talk. Well, Jessalyn mainly spoke. She told the unknown boy everything: her eviction, her encounter with Traci, her loneliness, everything. Perhaps she told too much, but she didn’t mind. And when he genuinely listened to everything the crazed girl said, nodding at the right times, Jessalyn felt something she had never really felt in a while. It wasn’t just infatuation somewhat like what she had felt toward Traci; it was a liking to this boy. It was certainly not love. It couldn’t be. He was just here for the extra money and a good review on Yelp. Probably. But Jessalyn was fine with that.

When Jessalyn finished her rant, the boy said nothing. What could he say? They just sat in awkward silence. Jessalyn couldn’t help but wonder if she had done something wrong, or if she had sounded too needy. But, suddenly, the boy reached into his pocket. He moved slowly, yet confidently. He pulled out a small piece of paper and a pencil, and he wrote quickly on the scrap of paper. He slid it across the table, and then Jessalyn saw what he wrote on it: Carlos. And then it had a phone number. His phone number.

 He stared hard at Jessalyn, and then he said this: “If you ever need me to do anything, Jessalyn, let me know. Okay?”

Jessalyn could do nothing but nod. Her eyes were so caught in his that she almost didn’t hear what he said. The tension was so strong that a knife would fail to cut through it. 

It was over too fast for Jessalyn. Carlos stood up abruptly, and then he said, like he forgot, “I-I have to get back to work. Call me, okay?”

It all felt like a dream to the girl. Jessalyn sat there, stunned. She probably stayed up there for a whole thirty minutes. She stayed until the din below quieted. She stayed until there were no more teenagers puking outside. She stayed just long enough to remember that she didn’t have a phone, that she left it in her old crummy apartment. But that was okay. She would just return tomorrow. Just so she could see Carlos again, and be caught in his gaze like she was earlier. She would just have to wait until tomorrow night. Jessalyn was never good at patience. But she decided she would just have to practice, and she was fine with that.