Secure

The herbal aroma of the hot tea filled my nostrils as I fluttered my eyes closed, enjoying the peace and quiet of the old book shop I've become so accustomed to.

I sipped the tea silently while focusing on a book that I have been reading for some time. Some may think I'm crazy for choosing this lifestyle over the one that I could have, partying day and night and flying off to Vegas, speaking stereotypically. There was just something about that old book smell that lured me in. It is where I'm at peace, where all my complications seem to be non existent.

"Sweetheart," I feel someone tap me on my shoulder. Looking up I come eye to eye with Betsy, the owner of this fine store. She smiles at me "I actually have a doctor's appointment. Would you mind locking up for me?"

I shook my head, taking another sip of tea before setting the cup down. "It's not a problem at all Betsy." I say. "Is it anything serious?" Over the time I've worked for Betsy, I've grown close to her. She has a special place inside my heart and I would hate for anything to happen to her.

"Oh no, dear. It's just a checkup." She reassures me. I nod before taking the keys from her. We say our goodbyes and I resume to my book.


-


I smile while closing the book. The epilogue for sure to leave a long lasting smile plastered on my face. Checking the time on my watch, I see that it's only 5:27pm. I go and place the book in its original space before packing up and heading out.

I didn't find it necessary to have a car. Though my parents begged and begged me to give them permission to purchase me a vehicle, I denied. I liked walking, I liked taking public transportation. I didn't want to be stuffed into some Range Rover or Audi X6 when there's a whole world to see. Call me crazy, I don't care. Upon reaching a pedestrian, I heard my cellphone ring. Retrieving it from my purse, I was informed by my caller ID that it was my mother. My heart sped up a bit. My mother would drop dead wherever she is if she took notice of my surroundings, Brooklyn. Oh how she loathed this place. Said it was for "underclass men and women in which we are not". What a load of bullshit.

"Yeah mom?" I answer.

"Hazel, your father, Catherine and I will be heading to Shields for dinner. Would you like to join?"

"Uhh," I checked both sides of the road before crossing. Once on the other side, I answered her, "No thanks mom, I'm kinda busy." I lied, obviously.

I hear her mutter a low "you're always busy" in the background but I chose to ignore it. "Well alright dear. We'll be home by 11. I hope to see you there."

"Maybe, maybe not" I say before hanging up. At all times, I did my best to try and avoid my parents. Seeing their faces constantly reminded me of the fact that they are depriving me of my dreams. Catherine does as well. She must have been unfortunate enough to be home doing nothing and got dragged off her ass to join the lunatics. I giggle at the thought of her screwed up face in some Valentino dress and modest hair eating with a knife and fork. I know she'd rather much use her free hands with a slice of pizza in one, and a beer in another. Though neither of us were allowed to drink legally, we would do it at all costs. It's not like we'd get in trouble with our parents. They've been giving us champagne since we were four. Plus, they were both lawyers, and could get us out of trouble with the authorities with just a few words.

I feel my toe hit something and I tumble over at the impact.

"Shit," I curse. I try to get up but am blocked by Brooklyn's inhabitants stepping over me. Finally, after what seemed like hours, I managed to muster myself up and look for the source of my fall. My eyes landed on a book. It had no cover, must've been ripped off. The pages were in bad condition. They were no longer white, but covered with dirt, water and ketchup? Curiosity got the better of me and I opened the book. With my eyes skimming over the pages, the realization soon hit me m

"The Great G-"

"Gatsby by the amazing F. Scott Fitzgerald," I turn to the source of interruption. A small gasp left my lips when I saw who it was. There, stood a man dressed in ragged clothing. Grey dress pants covered with holes and an awful yellow jumper with God knows what stains on it. He didn't even have on any shoes. His brown greasy hair was down to his shoulders and his green eyes seemed dull. He was a bit skinny for his height and I've come to the assumption that this man is indeed homeless. Well, either that or he's mad. In all honesty, give this strangers haircut, shower and good clothing and he'd be a real pussy magnet, excuse my language. I wasn't phased by his appearance, though. I was never one to judge someone.

"Yeah, that's mine," he says pointing to the old piece of scrap in the palm of my hands. Oh, wow. He has an accent.

"Oh! I'm sorry," I handed it back to him. I was quite shocked, to say the least. I didn't expect him to be the owner of such a great piece of literature.

He sent me a tight smile and I did the same. Awkwardness soon filled the air, it was almost suffocating. I noticed he was staring at my chest, not my breasts in particular, but my shirt. I look down to my 'The Beatles' muscle t shirt.

"You like The Beatles?" I ask? His eyes immediately snap from my chest to my eyes and I laugh a little.
" I can safely say with frank sincerity that their material is better and different (in a good way) to anything else I've ever heard so far. And though others would say the opposite, I find that their music is extremely underrated in today's world. They deserve every bit of nostalgia and excitement they received in the 60s," he pauses. "I'm rambling, sorry, but yes I do love The Beatles" he smiles. Well, you could add a dentist's appointment to that list I stated above. His breath reeked and his teeth were stained, but I wasn't really focusing on that. I was more focused on the words that just left his mouth.

How could a man in a situation such as his be capable of speaking with such depth and meaning? His vocabulary shocked me.

"Wow," I breathed out.

"What?"

"You're very intellect for-" I stop myself before I can go any further. I do not want to anger this man nor do I want to offend him.

"For a homeless man?" He finishes off. I don't answer, but simply look down at my shoes, suddenly finding them interesting.

"It okay, you know" he starts. "Not many people expect that but I'm a man of surprises". I decided right then and there that I liked this man. I liked his personality, his optimism and how jovial he is, even with his given situation. He was a smart man and could do wonders with the world.

Before I could reply, I heard grumbling. I look up to see his face flushed. He was embarrassed, and hungry. I frowned. Here I was, rejecting everything I could have when this poor man would probably kill for just a slice of pizza. I felt a pang of guilt run through my whole body and I physically felt myself slump over.

The anonymous man turns on his heels and begins to walk away, shaking his head.

"Hey!" I shout after him. He stops in his tracks and I could basically feel his hesitation radiating off of him while he turns around. Slowly, I walk up to him and smile.

"Would you like to come to dinner with me?"

Notes

It's weird writing this chapter because I know if I saw a homeless man I'd run for the hills. I'm desperately afraid of them I don't know if any of you can relate.

But as you can see I'm trying my best to portray Hazel as a very generous young woman who frowns upon he stereotypical types and believes everyone should be equal, despite their income. So yeah don't call her stupid or me stupid for having her invite Harry to have something to eat. I mean, she has the money and he's hungry. So why not?

Anyway, guys please please please can you vote and subscribe!? It wouldn't kill you! I saw that I had like 100 reads and only 4 votes? Ouch! Help a girl out?

Thank you to everyone who is reading and be sure to chec out my other book Resolution!

lots of love. Xxx