Unknowingly, a head of bouncing red curls pops through the ajar door. “What’s going on in here?!” She marvels at the scene before her.
The metal canister drops to the ground with a thud as I rush toward my savior. I leap over the blubbering oaf, who’s complaining about his nose or whatever. As I step past the threshold I declare, “I quit, asshole!”
Mairead squats next to him, whispering something to his foam-covered form. I couldn’t hear what was said, but as if she knows the drill, she grabs our belongings and we get the hell out of that fucking place.
We stand before the store for what feels like longer than necessary. With adrenaline still coursing through my body, I am sure if I am waiting for the police to show up or if I might act on my impulsive urge to light the whole damn building on fire. I know neither would be good.
I turn to Mairead who seems pleased as punch to be out in the sun.
“What’d you say to him?” I finally asked.
She proceeds to remove her apron and drops it to the ground. Without a word, she rummages through her bag for various items. Types on her phone in front of taking a rip from a vape stick. I didn’t even know she smoked. It smells like watermelon. As calmly as someone could be who just quit their job on a whim, she replies, “I told him to enjoy his last fucking can of tuna while he still can.”
I can’t help but laugh. It was funny. A little creepy, but I needed the distraction.
Mairead threw her head back and laughed wildly. Both of us must have looked high or like we just committed a crime. I liked her from the start, but now she has my admiration. She was exactly the kind of friend I needed right now. Friendly, sweet, but capable of kicking ass and taking names. All of this is wrapped within a seemingly innocent package. There’s more to this girl than I initially thought.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
CINDEL
Today has been… interesting to say the least. After escaping from the nauseatingly uncomfortable interaction with my now ex-manager, Mairead and I used our newfound freedom to hit the town. We didn’t hit the clubs, nor did we attempt to find our truths at the bottom of the glass at the neighboring bar. I was surprised she didn’t want to do any of that, when most girls her age are just breaking in their fake IDs.
I’m only a couple years older, and I knowage is just a number, but I feel a lot older than I actually am. Hell, I all but took a personal oath after my brother died, to never drink or do drugs again, at the ripe age of twenty.
Authorities said it was a drug-overdose. The evidence was all there, they said, but I just can’t fathom my brother doing such a thing. Sure, I objected. Insisting they look into it further, but when my parents decided to move shortly after his death, it was hopeless. No one listened to a desperate, young girl. I felt abandoned in my pursuit of knowledge.
Once my mind stops reeling, I remove the earbud from my ear and drop it into my bag. With my hearing aid removed frommy apron and back on my right ear, I pushed the horrendous uniform into a nearby trash can on the street.
“Fuck you, Star Crew!” I hold out both middle fingers for the inanimate object. I’m sure I looked nuts, but it made me feel a little better.
Trust was a funny thing. The people you were expected to trust; law enforcement, authority figures, managers… were, more often than not, the ones who spit in your face when you're vulnerable. Whereas acquaintances and even complete strangers have shown me more patience and kindness than I've experienced in a long while.
As I follow this free-spirited girl through the streets of Southie, I suddenly realize that I put my faith into her. I didn’t mean to… it just sort of felt right.
Mairead spares no expense during our Boston bender. We seem to stop at every establishment along the way. I try to pay my share when we get a coffee or when there is an entry fee, but she straight up refuses.
As I first suspected, her family has a shit ton of money. She only took this most recent job tofuck with their heads. I wish my parents were wealthy.
The first stop is the Boston Tea Party Museum. Apparently, it’s a must-see. Tourists have the opportunity to throw fake crates of tea off the side of a ship. I’ve lived here my whole life and have never been. Well, when Mairead learned this, she wouldn’t takenofor an answer. She is having so much fun, she’s throwing other things into the water, too. Of course, the actors aren’t too keen on having to fish extra things out of the channel, in turn yelling at Mairead.
Let’s just say I won’t be coming back anytime soon, due to the fact that she cut the ropes that secured the ship’s tarp, temporarily trapping staff and unsuspecting visitors. Not to mention, she also manages to make off with one of the actor’shats as we both fled the scene. Over the past thirty minutes, she’s been popping out of corners, surprising random city goers with anArgh!Pretty sure that’s not what the colonists said while objecting to British taxation and policies.
Next up, I follow Mairead as we explore the Freedom Trail. I feel like I am on a field trip through the city. Exploring the historical neighborhoods and sites, along red-bricked paths, that I never had the time to appreciate before. It is actually really nice. We stop along the way to check out a bookstore, with a lovely section of used books nestled between two brick buildings. Almost instantly, I have three in my hand. Then I remember I am now ‘down a job’ and in turn reshelve them. Mairead stubbornly grabs the books back off the shelf and pays with a fifty. She doesn’t even wait for the change, just pulls me to the next thing that catches her eye.
We stand beneath massive concrete pillars for the entrance to the Granary Burying Ground, when suddenly Mairead takes off. After all the walking we have done thus far, I don’t understand how her legs and feet aren’t sore. I’m starting to regret spending so many hours on my feet, prior to bartending tonight.
My energized friend continues at a brisk pace, almost as if looking for something. Passing each marker, she pauses momentarily beside a headstone, before moving onto the next. Finally, she stops, allowing me precious moments to catch up to her. She pulls out a small pad of paper from her bag and draws a line. Like a wind-up toy, Mairead’s off again! Continuing on to the next row of markers, stopping briefly, drawing a line, and so on. The only similarity I can find between the two graves she hesitated at was the name ‘Mary.’ She repeats this process for what feels like forever!
There must be over two thousand markers here. We learned about this historical burial ground when I was in school. MostlyRevolutionary War-era patriots are laid to rest here; however, there are thousands more buried in unmarked graves. I couldn’t imagine not knowing where my loved one ended up.
It looks like I was going to be here for a while, so I make myself comfortable on a stone bench and pull out one of the newly purchased books, while Mairead finishes with whatever she is doing.
This one is a classic from Agatha Christie. It’s about a young woman who survives, despite facing multiple close calls from someone trying to murder her. An unsuspecting man gets pulled into the mix, helping her untangle the mess and solve the mystery.
I love reading and was thrilled to finally have a few moments to get back into the habit. I guess I’ll have more time to read now that I work less. Shit. Will I be able to make my half of the rent this month? Just as I hit Chapter 7;Tragedy. Black, Mary Jane shoes appeared in front of me.
