"It's about time."
Confused green eyes met the upturned gaze of Rosalyn Parker, the newcomer stood poised to take her seat at the bar as Rosalyn turned back to her drink.
"Excuse me?" The blond asked, her eyes narrowed in obvious confusion as she took in the only other young woman at The Dove's Nest. It wasn't a popular bar, in fact it was routinely closed by various health care services, government agencies, and the local neighborhood watch for its bawdy clientele and failure to meet health codes of the 1930's. At the moment, the bartender was busy wiping glasses at the far end, his gaze was fixed on the ancient television and he was either unaware or didn't care that he was wiping the glass with a dirty towel.
Rosalyn kept her eyes forward, keeping the blond in her peripheral vision as she continued to sip her beverage. "I've been waiting for you," she replied simply. She turned her head and nodded at the empty seat next to her. "Sit down, I'll buy you a drink."
"And why would I agree to a stranger buying me a drink?" She tartly responded, regarding Rosalyn with a growing mixture of distrust and wariness reflected in her eyes. Rosalyn smirked, her lips quirking into a familiar position as she regarded the newcomer with equal vehemence.
"Because it took me thirteen months to find you and the least you could do was let me buy you a drink."
The stranger's lips twisted into a mirror image as she took her seat, flipping long blond hair over her shoulder. She crossed her long legs and tilted her chin up in dismissal, "I'm afraid you have me confused for someone else."
"Oh no," Rosalyn said. The stranger held up one perfectly manicured finger and the bartender snapped out of his stupor. "You see, I know exactly who you are."
A chilled glass of white wine materialized in front of the woman, the glass immaculate and glistening despite the dim lightening of the dive's overhead bulbs. Rosalyn laughed, however it was lacking any real warmth or humor. It echoed hollowly against the mirrored wall of the bar and bounced back to the frowning woman.
"And who might that be?" The woman asked, her tone bored. She had a simple and comfortable grace in her posture and she perched upon the rickety bar stool almost as if it was a throne. Rosalyn swept her over in a quick appraisal, her own posture leaned over and severely lacking in any real grace. She lightly fingered the condensation on her bottle of beer, its surface temperature quickly rising in the muggy May air.
"Well, if the deed on this bar is anything to consider, you're name is Aimee Katsaros." A waxed eyebrow arched in silent agreement and Rosalyn continued, "The bar's been in the Katsaros family since it's opening in 1929- during the Prohibition and Great Depression," she flicked her eyes back to Aimee who was sipping her wine, vaguely listening. "That's quite impressive for a Greek family in Georgia. I would have thought you would have chosen a more populated city. I spent a couple months in New Orleans looking for you. I would have thought Mardi Gras would have appealed to you more than Savannah, Georgia."
The woman labeled Aimme Katsros turned to Rosalyn and took her in with one long sweep of her large green eyes. Rosalyn could almost feel her appraisal as it took in her dark brown hair that was pulled back into a low pony tail, the running eyeliner that was no match for the Georgia summer, and the white v-neck tshirt which was probably beginning to dampen. She flipped her sandal out onto her toes, bringing attention to her recently pedicured feet. Points should be granted where due.
"And to what do I owe the privilege of being stalked?"
"I have some questions for you," Rosalyn replied honestly. The woman shook her head, the loose curls glinting in the setting sun streaming through the dirty windows. A car alarm was going off nearby which almost drowned out the music playing lowly in the bar.
"Such as?" Aimee drawled, her overall meaning crystal clear from the ice in her voice. Rosalyn shook her head over her drink, a chuckle escaping the back of her throat.
" Well, for starters, why is the Goddess of Love Aphrodite running a seedy bar in the slums of Savannah Georgia?"
Silence answered her as Aimee sipped her drink, french tips wrapped tightly around the stem. No lipstick smeared the rim of the glass as she drew it away and regarded Rosalyn from across the empty seats.
"That would be an excellent question if it had any basis in reality," Aimee responded. "What did you say your name was again?"
"I didn't," Rosalyn said. She raised her glass in a toast as she replied, " My name is Rosalyn Parker. But I'm sure you knew that."
"I don't know how I would know the name of a completely crazy person who apparently is much too talented at stalking random business owners, Ms. Parker. Perhaps we could discuss it further with the police." She raised another perfectly manicured finger and the bartender gave a short nod, moving towards the ancient phone perched precariously on the wall.
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I might write more....thoughts?
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