Alone
There were days when Ed hated her job. And then there were days like today, where the perks promised to outweigh the indignities.
Stratto was way out of her mark’s price range, given the currently frozen state of his accounts, and it was nearly impossible to get a table. She’d heard legendary things about their food though and the view was incredible. If she didn’t know better she might not have guessed that her ‘date’ for the night was a gross sack of shit.
Good thing she knew better.
She gave her reflection one last once over, grimacing as she shifted her feet in the torture devices women other than her called shoes and craning her neck to make sure that her automail was covered despite the slit in her dress.
She fluffed her hair and pulled a face at herself before the elevator doors dinged open and she was forced to smooth her face into something approaching a pleasant expression.
She found him pretty quickly, tucked into a secluded two person table under the fairy lights. He was more handsome than his mug shots suggested, but she could see something of the charm that must’ve drawn his wife to him. Give him a different haircut and even Ed might be tempted into sleeping with him.
He stood up from his chair, looking almost hopeful when he saw her. Like a tail wagging puppy. Hella unattractive in a man that was pushing forty, which was probably why he’d lied about his age on his online profile.
“Edwina?” he asked.
“Karl?”
“Hi,” he breathed, taking her hand and shaking it.
“You look relieved,” she said, letting him pull out her chair for her.
“Well, you know, it is the internet,” he said sliding back into his own seat, “And pictures can be, uh—”
“Fake, outdated, stolen from a Victoria Secret catalogue,” Ed offered, tucking her hair behind one ear and flashing him a smile that was hopefully just a little nervous looking.
“Exactly,” he said, and the way his eyes flicked to her chest made her glad she’d chosen something high necked. “So tell me something about yourself, Edwina, or do you go by Winnie?”
Ed had to fight a grimace at the nickname but managed to titter at him a bit.
“Uh, whichever you like,” she said, “Well, what would you like to know?”
“Anything, everything?” he laughed, “Who is Winnie Elric?”
“I’m not that interesting,” she offered, “But okay…um, well, today is my birthday.”
“And you’re spending it with me? What about your friends?”
“Kind of a loner,” shrugged Ed.
“And you, what? Don’t like your family?”
“Wouldn’t know, I’ve never met ‘em. Are you ready to run yet?” she said, not quite playing coy.
The easiest way to lie to a person was always to tell them most of the truth and let them fill in the blanks all wrong.
“Not a chance,” offered Karl, taking her flesh hand in his own, “You, Winnie, are by far the sexiest friendless orphan I have ever had occasion to meet.”
She laughed, wondering if he could tell she was laughing at him instead of with him. Wondering just how long those eyes would linger if she ditched the push up bra and peeled herself out of the dress so that he could see the horrific tangle of steel and scar tissue underneath.
“Okay, okay, you’re turn,” she giggled, “Oh, wait, no, I want to guess.”
“Guess?” laughed Karl, “You’ve hardly known me five minutes.”
“Shh, I’m good at this, and you can stop me if I get this wrong,” she said biting at her lip in the way that she knew most guys found endearing, “You are, handsome, charming—”
“Go on,” he grinned.
“The kind of guy who…embezzled from your employer, got arrested and skipped town before they were able to throw your skanky ass in jail, am I right?”
Karl blinked at her, his smile faltering a bit, “What?”
“Well, you have to admit, a thirty nine year old man pretending to be twenty five to get younger women is kinda skanky, right? But the worst part about all this is your wife loves you so much she bailed your douchebag ass out of jail and how did you repay that loyalty? You’re on a date.”
“Who are you?” he demanded fisting a hand in his napkin.
“The chick who put up the rest of the money,” Ed offered with a smirk.
“You’re a bail bondsman,” he said.
“Bail bondsperson,” she corrected, leaning over the table, “Now, here’s how this is gonna work—”
But Karl, with surprising speed, flipped the table over into her lap sending dished clattering to the floor and spilling wine down the front of her dress, and took off at a run.
Ed cursed looking down at the stain, “Really?” she sighed before going after him.
She didn’t bother to run, there was no point breaking her ankle when she’d already put a parking boot on his car. Something that the jackass didn’t find out until she was leaning over his door watching with a pitying expression as he tried ineffectually to spur the mid-life crisis he was calling a vehicle into gear.
“Look you don’t have to do this,” he pleaded, “I have the money, I can pay you.”
“No you don’t fucktard, and even if you did you should give it to your wife and take care of your family,” Ed admonished.
His handsome face twisted into a nasty snarl, and there it was, the selfish jerkoff behind the boyish flirt, “What the hell would you know about family?”
“Not a damn thing,” she offered slamming his face into the steering column, “Guess we’ve got that in common, asswipe.”
“You foulmouthed bitch, you broke my nose!”
“Oh, boo fucking hoo.”
It took a little over an hour for the police to show up and take both her statement and the oh so charming Karl Haushofer back to the station, at which point she paid for the damages to the table and a shit-ton of tiramisu and made her way back to her apartment.
The place wasn’t much more than a hole in the wall, a place to sleep and dump her small pile of shit. Just another way station that felt emptier than usual somehow as she bumped the door open with her hip and dumped her keys on the boot bench by the door.
She was more than glad to stumble out of her heels and shimmy out of her dress, tossing it over the back of one of her kitchen chairs and skinning into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
Leaning back against the counter she considered the takeout container for a second before flicking the top open and pinching a bit off with her fingers. Moaning as the bite of the espresso hit her tongue.
“Damn,” she laughed to herself, groping for the drawer behind her and rummaging for a fork. Catching sight of her reflection in the window she saluted herself with the takeout box, “Welcome to another banner year, Elric.”
Settling against the cool marble of the counter Ed started picking away at the tiramisu in slivers to try and make it last, looking up in surprise when the doorbell rang, of all things.
Ed debated grabbing her gun, because she’d been living in Boston for not quite three weeks and the only person who’d be ringing her doorbell at any time of day should be the acne-ridden delivery guy from the Thai place three blocks down.
Still she wasn’t quite ready to answer the inevitable questions if she ended up confronting her new neighbours or the super with a loaded firearm, so she padded over to the door and swung it open.
Standing in her hallway was a little girl who was maybe ten years old with ink black hair and round gold-brown eyes. She was wearing a sassy little pink pea coat and a stubborn expression.
“Uh, can I help you?” Ed asked, scratching at the back of her head.
“Are you Edwina Elric?”
“Yeah? Who’s asking?”
The kid nodded her head firmly and then stuck out a hand, “I’m Trish. I’m your daughter.”