Meet Me at the Edge

Walking through the back streets of New York, the man glanced around and behind him nervously. He swore he had seen the same three guys strolling or leaned against a wall for the past 4 blocks. He had been warned of rising gang activity ever since the Prohibition started, but he didn’t expect to get mugged on his first day. He lowered his head and walked a bit faster. His new apartment was only another block away, but they were starting to close in, and he wasn’t sure if he could make it inside before they got to him.

Out of nowhere, a young woman silded up next to him, crying out loudly,

 “There you are ya little goof!”

The man stared at her wide-eyed, but she just winked and looked behind him “C’mon boys, this one is with me, leave him alone for today alright?”

The man turned around; now there were 5 men, all menacing and in matching fedoras. 

Before the man could catch his breath, the gang-bangers sneaked away and the woman leaned in close and whispered one last word of advice before vanishing herself: “If you look like a native, guys like that should leave you alone.”

When he stood there alone, reeling from that close encounter, he continued on to his apartment building.

After checking in, he threw his bag down on the lumpy mattress; sighing at how small his life had suddenly become. He had nothing to do that day, so he shoved his bag onto the floor and tried to sleep.

Night had fallen by the time he woke up, so he shakily stood, and groped around for the door. He pushed past once he found it, and stood tentatively in the empty hall.

Just as he resigned to go in and unpack, a door down the hall opened. A beautiful, and graceful, and clean woman stepped out. He recognized her immediately as the girl from this morning. He hadn’t been able to really look at her then, but now he could really see. 

She looked like the epitome of modern fashion; with raven black hair cut into a slick bob, smooth olive-toned shoulders, thin waist and hips that swayed the beads on her short flapper skirt with each step she took as she mounted a short set of stairs on the other side of the hall. She never looked his direction, just turned and bee-lined her way up the staircase. 

The man hesitated, glancing between the door to his room and the door at the end of the hall.

On the roof of the apartment complex, the woman slipped through the door and it shut gently behind her, leaving her alone with the stars on the roof of the small apartment building. She slipped a grey coat around her shoulders as she walked forward and tipped her head back, seeking out the elusive pinpricks of light in the smoky grey night sky. She slowly made her way across the small roof, leaning slightly over the edge and shifted her gaze to view the pinpricks of light against the dark backdrop of buildings. It was like looking at the night sky, but the darkness there was filled with filth, not mystery. 

She slipped her hand in her pocket, and fingered whatever was hidden there. 

The door to the roof suddenly swung open, flooding the space with warm artificial light.  

It was a young man, with a kind face and kind brown eyes. His clothes were smudged with dirt and dust and his chin was shadowed with a few days worth of stubble. Evidently, he had just been traveling, had just arrived no doubt. He seemed familiar, but she wasn’t sure why.

“What do you want?” She pulled the coat she had brought with her  tighter around her shoulders.

“I… didn’t get a chance to thank you… for this morning.” 

“Okay.” 

They just stared at each other for a few moments. And then spoke up at the same time.

“I’ll just g-”

“Don’t expec-”

They both stopped, and awkwardly laughed.

“You go ahead” The man replied with a smile.

“It's just,” She paused, then said with a smirk, “most people would ignore fresh fish like you, I just didn’t like seein’ ya squirm like that.”

The man tentatively made his way to stand next to her. “I’m even more grateful then.”

“So, what brings a fella like you to New York?” She felt more comfortable when the conversation was not on her

“My father trades some goods here, and his former manager just quit, so I decided to take his place.”

“So you’re already set?  Imagine that, a real egg livin’ in this dive.” She felt a twinge of envy. In 5 years of living in New York, she barely made enough to get by, meanwhile this man just walks into the city with a guaranteed job and paycheck. She couldn’t help but try to bring him down a peg. “But ya do know ya can’t just waltz in and expect New Yorkers to fall in line.”

“But my father is a valued-”

“Oh don’t be such a sap!”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. Naive. You ain't got street cred, and if anyone heard about that this morning a girl had to drive off gang-bangers, they’d laugh in your face.”

He took a deep breath, and said with a smile, “Then I’ll build my street cred; earn their respect.”

There was a moment where the man wondered if she was actually mad at him, before a small smile of her own graced her lips, the first one since their conversation started. Even though he would never admit it out loud, that tiny smirk emboldened him.

“What’s your name?”

She replied as if she had been waiting for him to ask, “If I told you, it would take the mystery out of this meeting wouldn’t it?”

He chuckled “Then I’ll call you Miss Mysterious. Or should it be Mrs. Mysterious?”

“No, just Miss, a man hasn’t been a part of my life since… well, since my father died.”

There was a breath of silence that the man tried to break, “I’m sor-”

“Oh don’t even start, I wasn’t asking for pity.” Any trace of the smile was gone, and while her words implied grief, none shown on her face when she turned to look at him. “It was a long time ago.”

The man nodded, then her sweet honey eyes locked him in place.

“I think I’m in love with you Miss Mysterious.”

Without missing a beat, she responded, “You don’t know me.”

“Then what is this warm and happy glow I feel?”

“I’ve seen the look in your eyes too many dumbells to count.” She leaned in close, making the man’s heart beat like a racing horse, “you’re in love with the idea of me. Not really me.”

He nervously licked his lips, “Well, it’s a swell idea.”

Their eyes met again, and this time a small crack in her shell appeared as a breathy chuckle squeezed out.

“You’re not such a bad idea either.”

The conversation faded out after that, so the man wished her a good night. Once he was gone, the woman released a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She longingly tilted her head back to look again at the few stars twinkling through the thick smoke.

The next day, the man bought some clothes in preparation for his new job. He thought a local fit would help build his street cred for the meeting the next day. That night, he made his way up to the roof, hoping that he didn’t just dream up the mysterious woman. 

He saw her standing near the edge, leaning against the parapet and staring, again, at the stars.

“What is it about the stars that you love so much?”

For a moment she was surprised to see him, but the look quickly melted into a flirtatious smile.

“What? No more love proclamations? You were set up perfectly for a cheesy comparison of beauty! Are you really a wet towel, or just a virgin?”

The man cleared his throat, choosing to ignore the last bit. “There is very little of the stars you can see here, any comparison would fall flat.  Also, you don’t need me to tell you you’re beautiful.”

 The woman looked back up, fighting a hopeful smile. She didn’t look at him as she heard him come stand next to her. 

“I grew up in the country; the sky used to be covered with them.”

The man looked at her as she smiled fondly at her memories.

“Another country bumpkin! I never would have guessed.”

“Oh dry up, why don’t ya!”

There were more stars out tonight than the previous one, and both enjoyed the lapse of conversation just to savor a view they both missed.

“Do you think your father is looking down on you from up there?”

Her smile fell, and something bittersweet fell over her face.

“I hope not.” She sighed and looked down at her hands. “He would be disappointed if he did.”

“Why?”

At first, the man thought that she would not answer, and he berated himself for prying.

“He would wonder why I left the farm.” The smile was back, as if it never left. “He was a traditional fella and would drag me home in a heartbeat if he heard I turned flapper. He could be a real jerk when he got bent up at the bars.”

The lie came out smooth as butter, it’s what she told everyone. She chose not to invent an idea of a perfect dad, but she still loved pretending to have one at all. She quickly changed the subject, too fast for the man beside her to catch on to the slight strain in her voice.

They talked for hours, as the moon crept across the sky, and a pink haze started to lighten the horizon. 

They became something more  to each other than ideas that night.; they were the ideals of themselves and each other. Everything felt real and wonderful, but ideals are a shaky foundation.

When they noticed the sun was rising, their smiles faded with matching sighs. The man started to step away, saying he needed some sleep, when the woman rushed forward and planted a soft kiss on his lips. 

Both stood in disbelief, then smiled, both pairs of eyes twinkling at each other. The man mumbled again that he needed sleep, but this time, he asked if he could meet her again later. She nodded with a sweet smile on her face; so he left, both knowing full-well he would not sleep a wink.

As he left the woman allowed a small smile to grow, a smile that was for no one but herself. 

The man arrived at the street corner where he was instructed to meet his second-in-command, he was wearing a long trench-coat and a fedora pulled low over his face. 

“You!” the man exclaimed, it was one of the men who had been following him on his first day.

“Yes it’s me, you weren’t supposed to know we were there, protecting you. Apologies for giving you a fright.”

His smirk betrayed the fact that he had got a pretty good kick out of scaring the boss like that.

They walked to a warehouse on a seemingly empty street, the trench-coat guy knocked a code on the door before it was opened for him. Music, laughter, smoke, and the stench of alcohol flushed out the open door for the second it was open. Inside, scantily dressed waitresses dodged between tables, carrying trays laden with various brown liquid. Patrons consisted primarily of men, many of whom ogled the swishing skirts darting by. One of the girls stalked by with a man in tow, stuffing a wad of cash down the front of her costume. The man felt a twinge of disgust, the biggest disagreement he ever had with his father was in turning his speakeasy ring into a prostitution center, but it brought in a lot of cash, so his father refused to change. 

The two had just found an empty table towards the middle of the room, most patrons preferred the privacy of the dark corners, when one of the costumed girls glided up to them.

“Anything to drink boys? Liquid or otherwise?”

The man knew that sensuous voice.

He turned around. The glossy black bob, the flawless skin, the honeycomb irises, “Miss…” he started, suddenly feeling foolish for not knowing her name.

Her eyes widened and her facade dropped. She suddenly looked so out of place, even with the costume and make-up. She was a sweet country girl longing for home under the stars.

She turned and ran to the bar, and slipped behind the counter.

The man sprung up, muttering an apology to the man he had been meeting with.

He started to follow, all the way to a curtained off area behind the small stage, but almost ran into an older woman coming out of it. 

“You can’t go through here.” She crossed her arms and smirked up at him. “But if you want some service, you can wait at the booths in the back.”

“No- I’m- I just need to talk to her.”

“Who?”

“The girl that just ran in here.”

She slowly looked him up and down, the man gulped nervously, wiping clammy palms on his trousers. 

“Like I said, you can sit your little behind down in the back booths, but we do charge extra for specific requests.”

The man rubbed his face angrily, “I told you, I’m not here for that, I just want to talk to-”

“If you’re not here for business, then you can leave. I protect my girls, and my business. So I will not tolerate some obsessed dewdropper stalker disrupting this establishment.” She signaled to someone behind him as she said this.

“This here is your boss, and you’re going to treat him with the respect he deserves.” A low voice growled from behind him. It was the man he had been meeting with, looming behind him like a shadow. 

“Wait,” the man held up his hands, stopping the argument that was just coming to a boil, “It’s alright, I’ve caused enough trouble for y’all, how about we continue this meeting tomorrow?”

Without waiting for a reply, the man turned around and walked back to the street. Before he knew it, he was back at the apartment, standing before the door to his room. 

The more he replayed the moment when their eyes met, the more he began to realize something. She despised him. He was sure of it. She must think he was like those ogling men, or those who paid for pleasure, just as that other woman had first assumed. 

After fumbling with his keys, he shoved his way in, and crashed on the mattress, still mostly unslept in. He couldn’t stop thinking of her, reliving that moment when her flirty and self-confident mask fell and crashed into a thousand pieces at their feet. He couldn’t stop picturing her hatred and hurt and disappointment. He couldn’t stop feeling it all rippling off her from afar.

Soft footsteps sounded in the hall. The man wondered if it was her or one of his other neighbors.

When night fell and the moon rose, he got up and went to the door, as he had the past two nights.

She wouldn’t want to see him. Why would she? He had been encroaching on her space and her time anyway. He would leave her alone tonight, let her finally have some solitude.

He would explain tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. 

But after hours of sleeplessness he couldn’t stand the thought of her Hurting for one more second, so he leapt up and raced to the door at the end of the hall.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he stepped onto the roof.  

It was empty. 

He almost turned away when he noticed a small piece of paper folded neatly on the parapet.

He shuffled forward, and picked it up. 

He noticed that it wasn’t one piece of paper, but two: one that was crumpled and seemed to be waiting a long time to be placed right here, and a crisp sheet, with a sharp folded edge, with the words “Mister from the Roof” written on it. He read the note, unable to look down:

I heard talk of a new manager of the giggle water coming in, Mr. Nicholas Holden. They said he

was gonna be there today, but I didn’t know I knew him. At first I ran away because I didn’t want 

you to see me as dirty and broken, but then I realized you already do. I have heard the way you 

talk about your father and his business, and now that I know what business you were talking 

about, it’s clear what you already think of me, and others like me. Judge me and my work all you 

want, but you should also know that I never had a choice. My mother moved me here when my 

father left us. We had nothing, and she heard of people making dough in the big city so we came 

here- only to find poverty, gangs, and dirty alleyways. In order to be safe, my mother had to get in 

with a nearby gang, which meant getting a job at one of their establishments. It was the only way 

she could protect me, and now that she is gone, it’s the only way I could protect myself. That is 

also how I helped you when we met by the way, I’ve seen those guys around the joint, and they 

recognized me. The “actin’ like a native” talk was a bunch of baloney. 

These past two nights have been the happiest of my life. 

I was planning on ending that first night ya know. I was ready to do it, and then you showed up, 

with your smile and passion. You gave me a reason to live. Something to love. As I write this, I 

am waiting to see if you will come. If you do, I know there might be a chance for us. If you don’t, 

then I know that the idea I had of you was wrong. It was great while it lasted, but I live in the real 

world, and it’s burning.

So I must burn with it.

Goodbye, 

Vivian Black.

The man gently folded the note, and slid it into his pocket. 

He looked down.

She was so peaceful; a halo of blood graced her head.

A tear rolled off his chin and fell down all five stories of the building, onto her body below.

So Nick said goodbye to Vivian one last time.