Cass & Nix’s First Meet

The fg was alreay settlig, six i the mrig a high i the temeratre. I was alreay sweatig. w es air llet like this? I l’t eve begi t er my father’s message witht a ffee, s I left the htel t waer the streets. I f a ie little afé the sie f the ra, fille t the brim with Eglishme wh wre t hats a thik mstahes. A emty table, hwever, sat i the rer f the rm, s I walke i a tk it. A bell rag as s as I bega t e the r, bt by ai me ay mi. I strie ver t the table a lae my small bag t. “Will smee take this?” I aske a friely-lkig wma ext t me, wh smile a shk her hea. “N, lve, it’s a friely little sh. N e steals, e shts, jst a gettgether lae.” I thak her, the walk a eer at the me. I swear, Eglish ele ame their fs the stragest thigs. ‘Bbble a qeak ew aiti’ i big ft is sribble arss a halkbar, a the me is littere with ther reative ishes, sh as iy eggs a sliers, ta i the hle, a blak ig. “If I were y, I’ g with the iy eggs,” a maslie vie says frm behi me, a a tr t fi myself fae-t-fae with a Eglish teeager. e’s taller tha me by rbably half a ft, leaig asally agaist the wall with his has i his kets. is hair is messy a wavy, hlatey brw with bl-ish highlights. is eyes are ble a sarkly, a he’s smirkig at me, revealig white teeth a a imle. is shirt reas, ‘I ’t ike Mrig Pele. r Mrigs. r Pele.’ “I ’t kw what that is,” I say, rssig my arms. “It’s sft-bile eggs left i their shells with stris f bttere tast. eliis. This lae has great ba, t.” e’s lkig at the me agai, skimmig thrgh all f his tis. “I ’t sggest the blak ig, hwever. es’t qite seem like yr style.” methig abt the te f his vie makes me fris he es’t eve kw me, mh less my eatig referees. w l he? “I’m srry, bt I kw y? Bease last I heke, mst ele wh ’t kw me te t have zer le abt what I like t eat.” e laghs, hearty a lw. 1“N, I ’t kw y. Bt I a rmise y the ig is’t fr y.” h, by. If ly he kew wh he was messig with. Frget the ffee. I ste t the ter. “e large rer f the blak ig, lease,” I say sweetly, smilig at the wma wrkig the ashier. “f rse!” she relies heerily. “That’ll be three s, r fr . llars.” I ta my reit ar agaist the saer a tr ar t the strage ma, glarig at him. e jst gris, as if he alreay a tell I w’t like it. “We’ll eliver it t yr table i jst a few mites,” the wma says, a I , heaig bak ver t my table. e lls a seat ver a sits arss frm me. “What are y ig?” I whiser-sht, trage. e’s smirkig. Agai. “I wat t sit with y,” he says ietly. “Is it really sh a rime t wat t wath y ejy yr breakfast?” The erve f him… “Fie!” I say, rllig my eyes. “ ahea a wath me eat, stalker.” “I’m t a stalker,” he says, ki f efesively, “jst a ris strager wh wl like t kw mre abt the strage Ameria girl.” “Y ’t talk like the lals ,” I iqire. “Y have the aet, bt y ’t se ay f the strage wrs they .” “I was br i , live there til I was abt six, the mve t as Vegas with my mther fr eight years. The I mve bak here with my father. I ever lst my aet, bt I i lse the ‘strage wrs’ they se.” e shrgs. “I gess that’s jst hw it is. I’ve always bee the half-ki. alf British, half Ameria. At sme it y jst get se t it.” I l’t hel bt tie a slight tige f srrw i his vie. “A what abt y?” he asks. “What’s yr stry, Amy?” I frw, fse. “Amy? That’s what y thik my ame is?” “N, , f rse t. Y lk thig like a Amy. Amy, shrt fr Ameria.” I literally might ie frm assiati with sh a iit. “That’s the best ikame y l me with?” I say, shke. “t f 2all the ssible ikames i the wrl, y hse Amy?” e s. Befre I a begi t sht at him, a waiter mes ver with a late fll f bly sasage. e laes it i frt f me. “h, I’m srry,” I say, “I i’t rer sasage. I rere ig.” The ma shakes his hea. “N, , ,” he says, “y rere blak ig, yes?” I . “This is blak ig. Nt ig at all, , jst sasage. Ejy!” e laes the latter i frt f me a walks away. I see the ame ma arss frm me tryig t hie his laghter, a I almst exle. “What i I say?” he tats, sikerig as he its t my meal. “Y will t like it.” I might kill him. “Believe it r t,” I say, “I lve sasage, a at wait t ig it this.” “Really,” he says, isbelief liig his vie. I at wait t wie that smirk ff his fae. “Really,” I sit bak at him, ikig my frk a sliig a iee fr myself. It’s grss a wet a bly, s bly, a I wl thrw it t if I was’t mre tha reay t rve this riils British gy wrg. “Well, whatever-yr-ame-is-jerk-fae,” I say, “be reare t wath me eat this etire sasage, bl a all.” e’s still griig. , es he ever st smilig? “My ame is Rih,” he says lly, “a I am mre tha exite t wath y eat this etire sasage, bl a all.” e’s qtig me. Why is qtig me? “Rih, hh?” I say. “Rih, hh,” he reeats, efiitely mkig me at this it. Wh eve is he? “kay,” I say, refsig t let him get t me, “here ges thig.” I lift the frk a lae a large iee f sasage it my mth. I sit it t almst immeiately. The textre, the feel, the taste… if I kew this was gig t hae, I ever wl’ve me t Egla. Rih is fll- laghig, his hea thrw bak a his has griig the table. I w a glass f water, tryig t wash the taste f bl t f my mth, whe I realize that t ly i I sit t the sasage, I sit it t the silk at f a assig Eglish getleme. “Par?” he says i the thikest aet I’ve ever hear. “i y jst flig a sasage at me?” “I’m s srry, sir,” I say, embarrassmet flshig my heeks. “It was a aiet, swear it.” e gives me a wary lk, laes the wet, saliva-vere sasage my table, the walks away, mletely aware f the mark it left his at. “Wl y sht alreay?” I grit thrgh my teeth, kikig Rih er the table. e’s rawig atteti, laghig lly a heartily. Fially, he sts, bt he’s still griig, a I ’t thik he’ll ever st. “, the lk yr fae whe y taste it,” he hrtles, wiig a tear frm his eye. I glare at him, learly imresse by his theatris a mre tha reay fr him t r the sbjet. “kay, kay, y were right, y trikster,” I begrgigly amit, a he seems t gri wier, verjye that I amitte his vitry. “ess y have sme reset fr me w, hh?” he sggest slyly, a I shake my hea. “, ,” I say, almst laghig at the thght f ever resetig him. “Bt y are ayig me egh that I thik I have t me with a ikame fr y.” “h, lease ,” he says, shakig his has. “I ’t ee ay mre ikames. Rih will jst fie. Amy fr y… what’s yr real ame ayway?” “assara.” “kay, Amy. let’s jst shy away frm this versati befre it trs evil, alright?” Ww. e really mst thik I’m sme srt f fl if he believes I’ll let this g. I stare at his fae itetly, tryig t math him t sme fams ers r elebrity… “Nix!” I sht trimhatly, a he stares at me, fse. “Nix? Is’t that the resiet gy?” “Nt just the resiet gy. Rihar Nix was the first resiet t resig frm ffie! h my g… is yr fll ame Rihar?” e es’t res. “It is! This is erfet! Y lk jst like him. The ski, the eyebrws, the fae… I mea, it’s t ser similar, bt lse egh. Pls… y’re Rihar! e’s 4Rihar! Nix is erfet fr y.” Rih is shakig his hea, rllig his eyes, a frwig at the same time. “N, , lease, assie,” he tries t beg, bt I refse. “ y refer Nix? Nixxy? Rihar, if y really wat?” “, if y ever all me Rihar, I will kill y. A efiitely t Nixxy.” “Nix a Nix it is, the!” e flis me ff. “Well, w that we’ve gt that figre t,” I say, “I shl rbably get gig. Nie t meet y, Nix.” I sta , slig my bag ver my shler, a reah t t shake his ha. Jst bease I’m lite. N ther reas t it. “It was ie t meet y t, Amy, bt I’m afrai this is’t the e f r frieshi. I’ve hear abt y, see, a I believe I a be f sme hel.” “h really?” I qesti, lkig him i the eye. It’s aggravatig hw I have t tilt my hea . “w l y kw wh I am?” “The billiaire’s aghter, yes? e set y here t rve yr wrth f his mey. wever, I assme he has hie it i a lae y will ee a re Eglishme’s hel t fi.” “Pre? ast I heke, y’ve barely live half yr life here.” “I kw thigs, ass. h as the ftai whih y seek is hie beeath three willw trees, makig a triagle, a the flwers that blm ar it are tall, rle, a ealy if y get their etar y. Frtately, I kw a trik t get ast them. Bt if y wish t ever see me agai…” he trs a heas twars the r, slammig it sht behi him. I shl let him g. I shl let him walk ff. Bt hw l he ssibly kw abt the ftai? My father? M? I’m t f the r befre he’s eve rsse the street. “Meet y bak here at high , Nix,” I say, the r all the way bak t my htel. 5