Lovely.
I squeeze my eyes closed and try to suppress my overwhelming disappointment before I hike my bag up on my shoulder and do an about-face.
What to do now? Find work elsewhere? I’d rather not; Aura seems like the most alluring option. Maybe that bouncer’s shift will end soon and someone more sympathetic will take his place. I could try to play dirty, find somewhere to change and doll myself up a bit. It could be that bouncer took one look at me and decided I wasn’t Aura material. I glance down at my sundress. It’s short and cute, accentuating my long legs. The thin spaghetti straps are playful, and my untamable cleavage doesn’t hurt, either. Though it wasn’t intentional when I got dressed this morning, I now realize all my best physical assets are already on display, so to say; I don’t think an outfit change would do me any good.
I walk down the street and turn the corner just to ensure the bouncer doesn’t get the pleasure of witnessing my self-indulgent pity party. Once I’m out of sight, I lean back against the wall, drop my duffel between my legs, and try to think.
It’s surprisingly hard. My brain is fried after this morning’s events. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to get it together. I have to find a place to stay tonight. That’s imperative. I pull out my phone and start looking up hostels. There’s no shortage of them around me, but it’s not as simple as picking one from a list. The best-rated ones are already full, and whatfew remain are either too sketchy or extremely overpriced. In the back of my mind, I know I don’thaveto find another hostel. I can afford a luxury resort, an entire room all to myself, a hot shower, atamper-prooflocker to store my money, but it feels like staying at a place like that would be equivalent to calling it quits. If I wanted to take a fancy vacation, I could have done that without all this trouble.
This summer is about Winnie, and she wouldn’t take the easy route.
I chew on my bottom lip, anxiously scrolling through hostel options. Finally I land on one I’m seriously considering. It’s a little run-down, but it’s only half a mile from where I am, close enough that I could save the euros and walk there rather than trying to find a taxi.AndI can always scope it out before I decide. There’s nothing to lose, so I grab my bag, checking the directions on my phone as I step forward. Suddenly a body slams directly into me.
I swerve and tumble down onto the sidewalk, mostly landing on top of the poor stranger underneath me.
“Shit,” I say in tandem with her explosive “Bollocks!”
Immediately I know I’m mostly fine. I’ll manage to come away with a scrape along my shin. There’s a bit of blood, but nothing a Band-Aid can’t fix.
“Shite. Arse. Bloody hell!” The stranger rattles off every curse word under the sun in a posh British accent just before she winces in pain as she tries to stand.
“Here,” I say, bending over to offer help. She takes it, and once she’s back on her feet, we both look down to assess the damage.
Both of her knees are skinned and bleeding much worse than mine. The palm of her right hand is scraped pretty badly as well, and the items she was holding are now scattered across the sidewalk. I grab her phone quickly and breathe a sigh of relief that the screen didn’t crack. The blue suede high heels she was clutching didn’t fare so well, though. One made it out fine, but the other now sits upside down in a pile of unidentifiable brown street goo. It could be melted ice cream, it could be human excrement—who’s to say.
Her shoulders sag as her gaze lands on her shoe. “No, no, no.” Her voice cracks with despair. “This isnothappening!”
“Oh god. I’m sososorry. Here.” I rush forward to save her shoe before she can, carefully pinching the tip of the heel between my thumb and index finger. The squelching sound produced as I lift it up and out of the mystery liquid is enough to make my stomach roil.
“I’m already late and now I can’t wear that heel. I can’t eventouchit.Youshouldn’t, either!” She yanks it out of my hand and flings it away as if it’s radioactive. For all I know, it might be. “What shite luck.”
“I really am sorry,” I tell her sheepishly.
She shakes her head, finally looking at me. She’s beautiful, startlingly so. She has dark black hair, almost the same shade as mine, the perfect complement to her tawny brown skin. Her short pixie haircut works on exactly zero percent of the human population and yet she pulls it off flawlessly. The style accentuates her sharp cheekbones and doe-like eyes. “No, it was my fault,” she argues. “I had my attention down on my mobile. That’s what I get for scrolling instead of looking where I was walking. Sorry about your leg.”
“No, it’s totally fine. A scrape.”
Once the apologies are out of the way, she looks down at her legs again. The bleeding is only getting worse. She drags a hand down her face. “What am I meant to do now?”
The same question was just rattling around my own brain.
She continues, sounding more hopeless with every second. “I’m headed to work and I was already going to be late. We don’t usually have to go in so early, but we have this training thing that’s going to start any minute and I was meant to wear those high heels once I got there, but now that’s totallynothappening. What do you reckon that is? Not poo, surely?”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “I’m too scared to check.”
She laughs, too, and then suddenly I know how I might be able to help.
“Look, I can’t make you less late for work, but Icangive you a new pair of shoes. What size are you?”
“Eight and a half.”
“I’m an eight!” I exclaim. “Us colliding is meant to be. I definitely have a pair that will work on you.” I’m already bent down, riffling through my duffel bag. I could have organized it better when I was packing this morning, but it doesn’t take me long to find the shoes I’m looking for. Of course I don’t want to part with them; Winnie bought the hot-pink Louboutins with the sole purpose of rocking them in an Ibiza club. But I get the sense she would approve of my passing them on to this particular stranger.
The girl laughs when I try to hand them over to her and looks at me like I’m certifiably insane. “Are you kidding? Babes, those have red soles, which means they’re worth more than I’ll make all summer. I’m not taking those!”
“No. It’s fine.” I hold them out toward her more forcefully. “It’s the least I can do. I wish I had a Band-Aid or something to offer you. Can you clean up your knees at work or should we try to find a pharmacy—”
She props her hands on her hips and ignores the shoes in favor of giving me an astute once-over. “What’s going on? Where were you headed with all your stuff? Waiting for a lift to the airport?”
