Ruin

7

**LUCAS P. O. V**
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Sunday: 7 pm
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"Pree tha thing deh!" Petrad says and my eyes follow his stare.

"Well clean and slim-thick. Real natural chromaz too eno," he adds and nudges my elbow with his. "Your type..."

His comment irritates me.

What the fuck does he know about "my type"?

He's been doing that since the last hour or so; watching every girl who walks in and making comments on their appearance.

It never annoyed me 'til now.

He loses the sly smile, when I say nothing to acknowledge his comment, and picks up his phone.

What is she doing here?

She saunters in and my eyes follow her to the bar where she sits.

I take her in.

Before she can even sit properly, the bartender dude is in front of her.

Couldn't even make her breeze off likkle bit, my yute?

She looks over her shoulder towards the door, as the bartender says something to her, and as she does so her hair swishes to the side. It is simply done tonight, tied behind her neck and falls effortlessly down the center of her back in thick, shinny locks.

I like it.

Her dress is low-cut, and, from where I sit, it's obvious that her cleavage is on full display. Her dress isn't hiding much either; stopping mid-thigh and showing off her gently toned legs.

I've seen her out of uniform before, but tonight she looks much different. Curvier, prettier...sexier?

I take a sip of the Magnum I had on the table before me.

The music plays loudly in the background, but my mind tunes it out.

In a room filled with women, of all shapes and sizes, my eyes find her and refuse to look away. The only pity is that I don't even know her name. I don't think she told me...did she?

I can't seem to remember.

Why is she so dressed-up though?

Is she meeting someone?

I check my watch. It's minutes past seven.

How come she's here so late on a Sunday? The last time I checked, she doesn't live two minutes away.

She's alone but doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

Did she take my advise to stay in town after all?

I take another swig of the liquor. It's not strong enough.

I'm not usually fond of drinking strong liquor, but tonight, I'd take anything that can serve as a distraction.

Petrad's comment rings over and over in my mind. "Your type!"

She is undeniably attractive. It doesn't take a fool to see that. But is she my type?

And if so, so what?

It's not like I have time to fool around. I already have enough on my plate as it is. Plus, women like her are a trash bag of problems waiting to burst open. And I have enough of that. Her name is Jessica...and she is enough of an headache for me to handle.

She's nothing like Jessica.

She's too refined. I almost couldn't believe it when she told me she wasn't from Kingston. I know it sounds stereotypical, but I easily imagined her as an uptown girl.

But I could buy it though. Her vibe is different...so innocent and pure; it's refreshing.

Being a goodie-two-shoes suits her.

A part of me hopes she isn't all good though. That would make me the bad guy, considering the wicked thoughts I've had, and can't seem to push away, ever since the day we met in the supermarket.

You are the bad guy, Lucas...

I notice that even though she sits at the bar, she doesn't order anything.

I can't help but wonder if she's a light or heavy drinker.

What is it about this girl that has me thinking all sorts of shit?

A guy walks over to her after a few minutes and she stands and stares up at him before smiling at whatever the fuck he says.

I bet it's some corny shit.

He lowers his head and kisses her lightly on her cheek and she giggles.

I look away.

Is he her date?

Her man?

It's not like I didn't figure that a girl like her would have a man, but seeing them chit-chatting, in front of my own eyes, makes me feel some type of way.

He doesn't seem like her type.

What exactly is her type, Lucas?

Doesn't rassclaat matter...

Why is she laughing so much? I know whatever he's saying isn't that funny.

I wonder if she snorts when she laughs with him too?

I remember how cute it sounded the other night as she laughed after I told her about my views on batman as a hero.

Hold up! Did I just describe her laugh as cute?

Wah do yuh, dawg? This serious!

Speaking of Friday, I still can't believe she drove around Kingston with her tank empty.

On fucking reserve.

How naive could she possibly be? I know she's not from this walk of life, but come on...is common sense no longer a thing?

What if I hadn't pull up on the spot when I did?

Or worse, what if she'd broken down in the ghetto?

I get so angry at the thought of something happening to her.

Why do I even care?

I don't even know her...

"Yow, dawg, yuh good?" Petrad's voice breaks through my revere.

I reluctantly pull my eyes away from her and her little boy toy and back to him.

I forgot he was still here.

He's sporting a knowing smirk.

My face gives nothing away. "Waah di pree?"

"Like yuh see sum'n weh yuh like..." he says, still smiling. "Look like it have the man head a way too, star!"

"Easy with the fuckry," I tell him firmly. "Nothing like that."

He brings the Spitfire bottle to his lips and takes a sip. "Talk di truth man, yuh nah feature tha catty deh?"

Wah di fuck this...?

They say the truth shall set you free.

My eyes fleet over to the bar, but they're gone.

My heart sinks.

Until I notice them sitting at a table away from the bar and across from us. A waitress is there taking their orders.

"Hear the man, star!" I say then laugh but it sounds forced, even to my own fucking ear. "Not my cup of tea."

Lie.

How can a woman I know nothing about make me feel so...eager to know more?

Fuckry gwaan!