Alchemy and Algebra

Chapter 2

Kennedy was embarrassed by how quickly she'd agreed to spend more time with Charlie. He was a virtual stranger and a potential fraud. It was entirely possible that he made his living by lying to gullible, vulnerable people, offering them false hope in exchange for cold, hard cash.

Though the facts didn't point in Charlie's favor, there was something about him that was incredibly appealing to Kennedy. Whether she was being sucked in by his carefully cultivated charisma, or her long-ignored baser drives, she enjoyed Charlie's company, and had been reluctant to say goodbye to him.

After accepting Charlie's invitation -- and hoping that there would be solid food to accompany the tea -- Kennedy followed Charlie to the back of the store. He'd flipped the store's 'Open' sign to 'Closed', brushing off Kennedy's concerns that he was closing because of her and assured her that it wasn't long until the posted closing sign anyways. Kennedy had assumed that Charlie was leading her back to the table and chairs they'd sat at earlier, but instead stopped in front of a narrow, unmarked door.

Charlie pulled a key from the pocket of his jeans and opened the door. Kennedy had been expecting a closet, perhaps one that contained a kettle, but instead saw a narrow flight of stairs.

"This way to the kitchen," he said.

Kennedy let Charlie go first, to save having to navigate the narrow stairway and figure out where to go when she reached the top, as well as to save herself the awkwardness of waggling her bottom in Charlie's face if she climbed the stairs ahead of him. Half-way up, she realized that another advantage of going second was that she got to watch Charlie's toned ass sway back and forth in front of her face.

Unfortunately, the old wooden stairs had been worn smooth by decades of foot traffic, and Kennedy found herself needing to watch her footing more and Charlie less, holding the thin metal handrail as she went.

The stairs opened to a bright and airy kitchen-slash-entryway, the stairs safely tucked behind a half-height wall. The room was a cheerful mishmash of colors and styles. It was almost overwhelming to Kennedy's more sedate tastes, and she was mildly concerned by the feminine touches of the gauzy curtains covering the window over the sink, and the floral pottery displayed on a set of shelves high over the table.

"Is this your apartment?" she asked.

"Sure is. Have a seat. Make yourself at home."

Kennedy dropped her backpack beside a jumble of shoes -- all men's shoes, she noticed happily -- and sank into a red-painted wooden chair beside a table that was currently painted robin's egg blue, but the wear at the corners revealed that it had once been lemon yellow, and before that, bubblegum pink.

"Is it just you here?" Kennedy hated to pry, but hated surprises even more. The lack of female footwear didn't preclude the possibility of a roommate.

"Yep. I've been here on my own for a couple years, now."

"Someone shared it with you before that?" Kennedy asked, thinking of the fluttery curtains.

"Yes, I lived here with my mother for a few years when we first came to town. The shop was hers originally. She left two years ago to open a new shop in a new town. Itchy feet, all her life."

Kennedy didn't know what to make of that. She'd imagined Charlie to be about her age, or maybe a year or two younger. That still put him firmly in his middle twenties; an age when living with one's mother was a sign that all wasn't right.

"How about you?" Charlie asked over the shoosh of water filling the kettle from the tap. "You live on your own?"

"I have a roommate," Kennedy replied. She wouldn't consider Roommate to be a dear friend and kindred spirit, but they had a functional relationship and Roommate didn't have any horrible habits. And, through long-ingrained habit, Kennedy felt better telling a strange man that someone would notice if she went missing. "We've been sharing an apartment for two years now. She's in the last year of her degree program, just like I am."