The Friend

Rodney

The next time he saw the friend was a few days later. She was walking down the street with her chin held high as her low heels clacked down the sidewalk. As she neared him, he squared his shoulders, stood up straight and made sure to smooth out his light-blue dress shirt. Arrogantly, he arched his eyebrow and pretended not to notice her. She came and went, black jumper, black heels, passing him without a glance. Her midnight eyes were focused on the street ahead.

As she walked on, he watched her until he couldn't see her anymore, in disbelief she hadn't said anything to him. But then again, he couldn't have expected her to. He had made fun of her body the last time they spoke. He cringed now, ashamed that he had stooped that low. It wasn't right, but it was out of his mouth as soon as he heard her making fun of his intelligence. She probably thought he was doodling on those papers filled with equations instead of solving them. He sucked his teeth and anxiously pinched his ear, sneaking another glance down the street. Since the argument, he couldn't get her out of his mind.

Upon first sight at Maxine's apartment, the girl appeared to be a mute. However, over the past few days, she was rapidly proving him wrong. She said that he smelled like a pop tart. Where did she get that from? And did he? And why did he entertain her by arguing with her back?

He shook his head, trying not to think about it, but her eyes kept popping up in his mind. Her dark, dark, filled-with-fervor eyes. Filled with irritation and disgust for him. Ah shit, he had gone too far this time. He shouldn't have talked about her body. Especially when he hadn't meant it. He imagined her passing by him again and thought about stopping her. This time to apologize.

"Rodney?"

He didn't turn around, "Yeah, Cortes?"

"Why aren't you dressed in uniform?" Cortes asked.

"Because the interview is today," Rodney replied, "I'm not going to be working with you guys."

He turned to look at Cortes tiredly, the friend still on his mind. Cortes eyebrows rose as his eyes swept over Rodney. He nodded in an approving manner. Rodney was dressed in business casual attire, but because it wasn't often that he did so Cortes was impressed.

"Interview? Why you?" Cortes asked.

"I spoke to Briefcase a few days ago and he gave it to me. If I make the project look good for this magazine then I get promoted," Rodney explained.

"Get out of here, man," Cortes grinned, "Are you kidding me? Well, wait until Michael hears this. Rodney, we both knew it. We just knew that in no time, you'll be doing something else with yourself. You don't belong here, man."

Rodney looked down at the concrete, "Thanks, Cortes."

"I mean it."

"I—I know and thank you." Rodney knew that Cortes did mean it, but he just wasn't sure whether it was true. "Hey, I should be heading inside. The interviewer will be here any minute. I'll meet you and Mike after work. We'll grab something to eat."

"Definitely, you have to tell me how it goes. Good luck!" Cortes yelled.

A second later, someone shouted out his name and Rodney turned. It was his co-worker, running up the street.

"Hey, Rodney, some intern is here from a magazine. She claims that she's interviewing the designer of the school we're building. Didn't briefcase leave though?" the worker asked.

"Intern? Where is she?" Rodney asked.

"She's in the first hallway," the worker said, pointing to the workers' building down the street.