"Now there's something you don't see everyday." Christine squatted down, careful of the scattered junk in the alley. Her hand brushed aside some shredded paper spilling out of the priority mail box, tossed haphazardly into the dumpster. With each scrap moved, the gem showed more clearly. Careful of the grime, she reached out with both hands to cautiously pluck the little thing from the ground. As expected, some unidentifiable sludge clung insistently, forcing her to keep as little contact as she could while bringing it to eye level.
It was a ring! To judge by the design and large stone it was very old, possibly a family heirloom.
But what would an heirloom be doing lying by the foot of a dumptser?
Nervous, she stood. She couldn't help it, her innate curiosity demanded she look. Cautiously she leaned forward, peering into the dumpster. Nothing there but the usual city trash. She sighed, unaware she'd been holding her breath. There was no body unceremoniously left to rot in there. Unfortunately, that left the lesser mystery of where the ring came from.
Christine decided she could call the police when she got home and report finding the ring. Right now she was late for work. She wrapped the ring in a wad of tissue, that seemed destined to survive the frequent purges of the contents of her bag and dropped the whole thing into an outer pouch. There it would be safe from contaminating anything important should the protective tissue slip. She hurried down the alley, the smell of fried food growing with each step until it finally overcame the combined stench of rotting garbage, vomit and urine.
George stood by the doorway smoking a cigarette. He looked over at Christine and smiled, shaking his head. "Late again kiddo?" Her mouth quirked into an embarrassed smile as she nodded sheepishly. She was twenty three years old, only two years younger than the cook, but every time he called her 'kiddo' she felt like she was back in middle school with a crush on some college boy. "Don't worry. I don't think pops has noticed. Just slip straight into the bathroom to change and he'll just think he missed ya."
Christine nodded again and hurried through the door, hoping to remain unseen. Her heart was racing as she scurried towards the bathroom. It wasn't the fear of being caught coming in late, at worst Vasili would lecture her about 'when he was a kid at his first job', she simply couldn't believe George knew her routine.
My Georgie actually noticed I have a routine? All right,
she was honest enough to admit to herself,
he's not really my Georgie. But I certainly wish he was.
She slipped into the employees' bathroom, shutting the door safely behind her.
She looked into the mirror, taking a few deep, steadying, breaths. A boring face stared back at her. Her hair hung unimpressively, a dark blond or light brunette that seemed unable to decide its exact color. No matter what she, or any other stylist, tried no one had ever been able to breath much body into it without the entire thing frizzing like she'd stuck her hand in an electrical outlet. Her blue eyes were too bland, never 'shining like deep blue pools' or anything poetic like that. Her skin was too pale, her cheeks too pronounced and her chin too sharp.
She pulled her apron from the bag and something clattered to the floor. Confused she knelt down to find what could have fallen since she never kept anything but her apron in the outer compartment. Halfway under the counter sat the little bundle of tissue. Thoughts of George had swept aside all concerns of the strange little ring. Confronted once more with the object she picked it up realizing she could clean it off in the sink
Standing too fast, Christine banged the back of her head on bottom of the counter. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes from the pain. Her hand moved to the back of her head instinctively, checking the level of damage. There didn't seem to be any blood, but there would be one hell of a bump soon. She concentrated on unwrapping the ring as the pain began to fade. Once clear of the tissue, all but a few strands clinging to the unknown stickiness, she upended the paper, letting the ring clatter into the sink. She turned on the hot water and let it run, hopefully sterilizing the object, while she put her apron on. Once dressed for work, she returned her attention to the ring.
Cautiously she prodded it. It didn't feel sticky anymore so she used one of the ubiquitous brown tri-fold paper towels to begin drying it. She worked gently at first, careful in case it turned out to be delicate. As dirt began to fall from the intricate detail-work, she scrubbed harder until the fabulous ornament shown in the flourescent lighting.
The door began to squeak open causing her to spin, her hands shifting behind her back. She didn't know what prompted her to hide the ring but, instinct insisted no one else should view the treasure yet. Vasili opened the door half way before he spotted Christine. "Ah, you are here." She never understood how the dear old man could have such a thick accent. He'd been born and raised only a few blocks away yet he spoke as if he, not his parents, had come over from Greece. "Anna's been having a fit that the dishes wouldn't get done today because she hadn't seen you. I go tell her you're here."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir." Her hands fidgeted behind her back. She couldn't bear to meet his eyes. He wasn't upset, the middle aged man was too gentle for that. It was the simple kindness in his expression that she couldn't meet. She felt guilty for taking advantage of the man by showing up late so often. Most of the time she was pretty sure he intentionally avoided noticing her absence just so this very scene could officially be played out.
The owner's head cocked to one side. "Chrissy! How many times I got to tell you? 'Vasili'!"
She flushed in embarrassment, unable to call her boss by name. Her entire body must have been flush since even her hand felt warm. "Probably many more sir." He rolled his eyes at her but left laughing. Her conscience pounded at her but it never seemed to help. No matter when she set her alarm, or left the house, something seemed to happen to delay her, like the ring had today.
"How may I be of service master?"
Christine's heart stopped as it tried to jump into her throat. She spun while trying to backpedal away from the woman's voice, the combination of maneuvers catching her feet and sending her sprawling to the floor. Her elbow crashed against the corner of the counter forcing a squeal of pain from her. The strangely dressed woman stood there, hands clasped in front of her loosely, with a concerned look on her face.
There couldn't have been anyone in the bathroom. Could there?
She stared dumbly up at the new woman searching for something to say. Finally her brain came up with something. "You new here?" Okay, maybe not the brightest thing to say but it was all she could come up with.
The woman's expression grew more confident studying everything about her. She looked around the bathroom quickly then returned to looking at Christine, her hand extended to help. "Yes. I've never been here before." Christine took the offered hand, pulling herself from the floor. She looked in the mirror sighing at her hair once more before lifting her arm to make sure she hadn't injured her elbow. It was red so there would be a bruise but at least it didn't look damaged. "How may I be of service?"
Confused, Christine turned to the woman. "I think you have the wrong person. You need to see Vasili if you've just started." She was beautiful to say the least. She was small, petite might be more suitable although there was nothing 'petite' about her hips or breasts, both very prominently emphasized by her strange outfit. She wore a very small vest that showed ample cleavage and seemed barely able to cover her chest. Her balloon pants were made out of a material so sheer it seemed only to color her very fit legs. Fortunately, for modesty's sake, her bikini underwear was a solid color rather than lace or some other sheer material.
I wish I could be there to see what everyone thinks of her outfit!
The woman nodded, seemingly in response to something unseen. "No, you're my master, not Vasili, because you wear the ring."
Her hand came up seemingly of its own accord. Christine laughed slightly,
human nature, you mention something and instinct tells you to look.
She was wearing the ring she'd just finished cleaning. She realized she'd put it on, while her hands fidgeted behind her back, without even realizing it. "I don't understand? What does the ring have to do with anything?"
The woman sighed. Somehow her expression shifted slightly, giving Christine the impression of a schoolteacher explaining a very simple lesson to an obstinate child. "I am a genie. The ring is my home from which you have just summoned me."
