Chapter 1: Naughty Whispers
Chartreuse Collins looked out the window of the bus, she was thrilled they were stopping though she had very little money to get anything to eat she was still glad to be getting off the damn thing. She moved behind the other passengers until she was finally in the cool air and warm sun. Her eyes squinted against the invasion of brightness compared to the contrasting dimness of the bus interior. She pushed back the black curls that had escaped her ponytail and headed to the diner were many other passengers were going. Perhaps if she looked pitiful enough, someone would buy her a slice of pie.
The bell of the diner chimed as she slipped inside and found a place at the counter to sit. Her fingers dug into her pocket and she pulled out three quarters, a dime, and a nickel. She curled up her face and pushed it to the front of the counter and left it there. Eventually the money disappeared and a cup of steaming coffee was in its place. She sipped on it, added sugar and then cream before taking a look around and checking out any customers or bus passengers that would fit the "Good Samaritan" clause she remembered from her Bible School days.
Her eyes settled on the older man that had gotten off the bus before her. She hadn't spoken to him, then again she'd not spoken to anyone. Now she thought of what she could say to ease him into a friendly conversation, which of course would lead her to some money, in turn getting her some food.
With a determined stare she focused her blue eyes on the mop of gray hair, took a deep breath and with coffee in hand, headed over to make a new friend.
"Hi," Chartreuse said with a perky lift to her voice. She waited to be acknowledged before sliding into the booth. Her eyes continued to stare him down and when he moved over and handed her the menu she grinned even more. "Thanks," she said.
"They'll be retribution," he told her quietly.
"Oh?" she asked. Her gaze traveled over him and she smirked. "Kinky guy are ya?"
She was surprised by the rolling eyes he directed at her. "No," he answered. "Just company for the trip. I get lonely and enjoy conversation. This is a long bus ride and well. . .I tend to ramble and it would be nice to ramble to someone besides myself."
Chartreuse cocked a brow, but said nothing else. She studied the menu and when the waitress came over she gave her order and turned in her seat to begin her "job."
"So tell me, boss. . .what's your name?" She sipped her coffee and followed his gaze. His eyes seemed focused on her hands and she felt subconscious, as she looked at her stubby fingernails and chipped polish. Her hands fell to her lap and she waited for him to speak.
"Gabe," he said. He too was drinking coffee, black with no sugar or other additives. She grimaced her nose at the scent, but said nothing of it. She liked her drinks so sweet she couldn't taste the vile coffee bean, that was crushed into powder and camouflaged into something barely consumable by man or beast.
"Nice to meet you Gabe." She stuck out her hand and waited for him to take it. When he didn't, she sighed and slipped it back down to her lap. "I'm Chartreuse."
She had gotten many reactions when people heard her name. Most laughed. Some asked if her parents' had been high when they named her. Some asked her to spell it or say it again slower so they could better pronounce it, but Gabe did none of those things. He just looked at her and shrugged his shoulders.
"You know for a man that likes to talk you aren't doing it much," she said.
"I like to ramble. Right now there is nothing to ramble about," he told her.
The food arrived and Chartreuse heard her stomach roll from the aroma of greasy fries and meaty burgers. She was about to dig in when Gabe pushed it away. "She'll have a salad, roll, and soup. No dressing or butter," he told the server.
Her shoulders slumped and she stared at him, then her food as she watched it be swept away and carried off. "What the fuck?" she growled. She stood up to leave, but felt a strong grip on her arm.
