It’s broken, but still, that’s like drawing a bullseye across your forehead for predators and other victims of circumstance looking to make a buck. I walk up the steps, and the closer I get, the clearer the face comes into view.
I see the same dark, beautiful hair that makes her fair skin almost glow. I don’t see her eyes, but I just know those same haunting brown orbs are just under the surface of those closed, fluttering eyelids.
Maybe she’s dreaming?
The way her mouth slightly hangs open shows she must be in a deep sleep and the way her chest slowly rises and falls tells me this may be the best sleep she’s had in a very long time. Where it’s taking place, though, makes the situation all too familiar.
“What the fuck?” I realize I said that out loud, but does this girl have a damn death wish?
Drinking in alleys alone, and now, flashing her broken laptop to the world, making it that much easier to harm her?
She jumps up suddenly, her hands in a poor fighting stance and wavy hair covering half her face. She blows the strands away, but it’s useless as they fall right back in place. She’s looking at me through the one eye not covered by hair.
Her voice is frantic when she yells, “I’ve got training in Krav Maga! Just back away now, and I won’t hurt you!”
I almost laugh out loud at that, her shaky posture painting a very different picture.
Crossing my arms, I raise an eyebrow as I stare at her pitiful stance. “Really? Where’d you learn your technique? Kids ‘N’ Shape?”
She drops her arms. “For your information, I completely lied. I don’t know shit about Krav Maga, but I do have a pocket knife that cuts through flesh quite efficiently.” She pulls out the few strings of hair stuck in her mouth and straightens.
I shrug. “Eh, it’s no crossbow, but I’m sure it could do the trick against some people.”
She seems confused at my response, but then she recognizes me.
“YOU!” She takes a step towards me. “You are following me!” She pauses briefly and then continues, “And before you accuse me of trespassing again, I’m pretty sure you don’t own the beach!” She waves her arms, gesturing to the open space between us.
“You got me there. I don’t own the beach. But I do live three blocks away. We come here often to relax after I finish work. I can’t help it if you decided to rent a bench that happens to be in my happy place.”
She looks around and then back at me. “We?” she questions, obviously confused.
“Oh, yeah. Me and Magnet. We like to come here a lot.”
“Magnet?” she asks in disbelief.
I gesture for her to turn around. “Look in your backpack.”
Cameron turns around then screams, surprising me by jumping into my arms and practically climbing up my body to escape the little demon. I’ve been there, and she should just quit while she’s ahead. There’s no escaping him.
A jolt of electricity fires through me, shooting up my spine and down into my fingertips.
“IS THAT A RACOON?!” she screams, turning to look me in the face.
As if she just realized she’s touching me, Cameron quickly lets go and runs behind me. I immediately feel the loss of contact.
I scold her over my shoulder. “Don’t be rude. He only acts like a scavenger.” Thinking about the evidence he so expertly hid under the docks, I lie, “He’s actually highly domesticated. You must have something in your backpack he likes.”
At that moment, Magnet pops his head out of the bag, his mouth filled with, of course, a peanut butter sandwich cracker. He’s staring right at us, unbothered, when Cam blurts out, “You walk around at night with your cat?”
“He doesn’t really give me much choice. Hence the name. He’s actually kind of a plus, though. The ladies love him,” I lie again.
She looks at him in disgust. “Trust me, I highly doubt they do.”
Grinning, I concede, “That may be true, but we mutually benefit from our unusual situation.”
“Which is?” she asks, her voice sounding perplexed.
“Friendship,” I state with finality.
Cameron finally steps out from behind me, walks over to the railing, and leans her elbows on it to stare off into the ocean. Instead of continuing down the crazy train, I change course and ask an obvious question.
“So why are you out here? Alone, again...” I try to come off as polite as possible so she doesn’t feel judged.
She’s quiet for a while as if trying to gather her thoughts. She stares ahead into the darkness, takes a deep breath, and responds, “Let’s just say this is a win for me.”
“Uhh, okay? Care to elaborate?”
She turns around without a glance my way and waves me off. Staring at the bench with her arms crossed, she leans her back against the railing. “Nope, I do not. In fact, I don’t care to speak to you at all.” She’s obviously lying by the noticeable crack in her voice, but I don’t push the issue.
“It’s not safe for you to be alone and exposed in this area. Especially carrying all that.” I point to what’s left of her laptop, the crackers and water bottles, and broken picture frames falling out of her bag. “Not only would another bench renter want your computer for parts, but they could use almost everything in your bag as a weapon against you. Except...are those tampons?”
Still staring at the bench, her eyes bulge. “Stop looking through my stuff! I can take care of myself! I don’t need a man to tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing! So you and
