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Cherry - part 15

Percival

Toast

She calls him Perry and he lets her call him that. She just left for the job interview, and he knows she'll get it. She always get the jobs she wants. He is stuck with working for his father, because no one else would take a fresh graduate in. His father was surprisingly happy about Percival working for him, which made it slightly better for him to cope with it. He is alone in the kitchen and he's eating a cracker with cheese. His mother enters the kitchen. She's got a hangover.

“Morning, son.” She says in a high pinch voice. How can she stand to hear herself speak when she's got a hangover? He doesn't bother thinking more about it and mumbles a silent 'morning' to her.

She starts making French toast.

“So, how was the party last night?” He asks her, and she stops for a second.

“Oh, I wouldn't call it a party, really,” the toast smells burned, “it was just me and the other wives... as usual.” She smiles at him and points towards the French toast. “Would you like any?” He rejects her offer and gets up from the table.
“Don't drink whiskey in the coffee. It doesn't go along with French toast.” With that line, he leaves the room. He doesn't care for yet another speech about how she does in fact not have a problem with alcohol.

Inside his room is the black pants and the blazer he put out last night. As his father’s assistant, he's supposed to look really nice, even though his job is to do all the things the other people doesn't want or have time to do. Though sometimes he can be asked to observe a meeting or something important, and as his father said: 'We certainly don't want people to talk about how poorly you dress whilst working for me, now, can we?'. Certainly we cannot have that.

People who talk are the worst kind of people, that's what he had always learned. Hell, his parents barely spoke any more. What would they talk about now? They have zero in common.

It would just be ever so awkward. He leaves as he think of the missing romance in his parent’s lives.

Cherry - part 14

Amelia

Redhead

Her hair has always been against her, that's what she thinks every single morning. She doesn't even bother do more about it than combing it. It's the color. It's somewhere between reddish orange and light brown, but in everybody's eyes she has always just been a redhead.

She picks up an apple on the way out. She has got to have some kind of breakfast. She walks down the street and greet the people she meet on her way. She's a high school student and she's got a year left.

When she enters the school, she is usually not greeted by anyone. She knows a lot of people around town, but at her own school, she barely feels welcome. Arthur greets her, but that ought to be the only one.

“Hello, students!” The new English teacher says. It's only a substitute for two weeks until the real teacher, Miss Cryx, gets here. Amelia is pretty excited to be a student of Miss Cryx. Everyone knows the Cryx's, and Zia, the oldest daughter of the family, got so much attention when she left for Paris a year ago. Now she's back, and in two weeks she'll be teaching Amelia's English class.

She looks dreaming into the sky and tilts her head. Some mumbling is heard in the far east of her ear. She doesn't bother asking.

“Amy?! Don't you agree?” Arthur says in a confused voice. She shakes her head and sees the substitute teacher in front of her.

“Absolutely!” She bursts the word out and the teacher moves along. She looks at Arthur.

“What the hell, Arthur? I was dreaming, and you snapped me out of it... I think! What did the sub even ask?” He laughs a bit.

“Just if it was okay for her to being the first subject so we won't fall behind. She's asking all the students if they can accept the fact that it'll be different once miss Cryx comes.” He explains, and she nods. Of course that's what the sub wanted. What else?

“Don't you just look so much forward to meeting miss Cryx?” She says happily to Arthur, but immediately regrets it. Of course he's excited about seeing her. She looks like a model. Arthur will be thrilled for sure. But he only looks at her and shrugs.

“I suppose it'll be alright.”

The sub, Janette, hands out books for them to read. Amelia opens the book in the middle and takes a deep breath.

Nothing like the smell of a good book.

Cherry - part 13

Zia

Holes

The most important thing about Zia, is her wish to just be another one in the crowd. For as long as she could remember, she loathed the girls who did everything they could to get attention from the boys. They just seemed so fake, with their push up bras, their thick layers of make-up, and their dyed hair. Her only problem was that she had all the things the other girls wanted; the look of an angel, and she never even tried. She only tried to make people like her for whom she was, yet people would still comment on her breathtaking beauty. They'd ask how she kept that figure of hers, and they'd ask how she managed to look like a dream when she left for school. They'd say she was the most beautiful girl on this planet. And then she'd shrug and walk away. That's usually how Zia does, when she is stuck in a moment she can't get out of without being mean. She even wore hooded sweater and plain jeans, yet people continued to see her as a model. And now, Twenty five years old, she was about to give up. Would anyone look at her and like her for who she was? She never figured that would happen.

As she stood in her bedroom, somewhere past midnight, she opened her window and looked out. All the lights were out in the entire house. People must have been asleep for a while. When she noticed Perry's window was open, she closed hers and started singing. The song had been a part of her forever. She rarely plays the game anymore and never tells people about it, but she still sings the song whenever she's alone.

“I dig my hole, you build a wall...” She sings. She'll always remember when she found her, Zia, in the game. Hearing her voice, so similar to her own was scary. She didn't say a thing for a week, but the song was stuck in her head like a virus. It was something pure inside her that grew, just to stay for good. And Zia liked it.

It was so beautiful; she never wanted people to know about it. Her treasure, something so personal. Like the most fragile flower, like a lily made of floating diamond dust, she couldn't share without destroying it. So she sang on the top of her lungs and sent a prayer to all holy and pure, that no one heard her.

Perry had a talent of being mad in the morning, and Zia had perhaps sugarcoated her memories of his bad mood throughout the time she had been away. The following morning he was as mad as ever.
“What's with you, little brother?” She teased him. He sent her a look of doom and she turned away.

Her father had been gone for hours now, and she was wondering when Perry were going to start working for him.

“What's up with you and dad, anyway?” She tried in a playful, yet serious voice. He answered something which was not to be understood.

“If you don't want to talk about it...” It left Zia in not so wonderful a mood to see him mad. She had to get going through; she was going to a job interview.

“An English and music teacher, huh?” The fat lady behind the desk peaked up from her lemon shaped glasses with a skeptical look on her face.

“Are you sure you're not in the wrong place, Missy?” The elevator look was getting old on Zia, but this lady's eyes was disapproving and discomforting. That was at least a new thing.

“Whatever do you mean?” And she knew exactly what she meant. She was going to give her the old 'you're too pretty to be here'-speech. Frankly, she was getting tired of it.

The fat lady looked like she chews on her tongue and started shaking her head.

“Right. You have quite some qualifications, Miss Cryx. We didn't get anyone with such a nice resume. I think you'll fit here perfectly.” Everything the fat lady said sounded sarcastic, but Zia didn't let it get to her.

“I'll see you in two weeks then.” Two weeks, and she would start at her new job. And she left the office feeling completely empty.

Cherry - part 12

Cherry

Reminiscences

“I've found an education.” Cathy says. Cherry is walking around in her room, looking for her favorite jersey whilst talking to Cathy on the phone.

“That's wonderful, what do you want to be?” She answers and tries to hold the phone in place with her shoulder.

“I want to be a home nurse.” Cathy says. Cherry doesn't really listen to her, even though she ought to.

“That's great. Go find out when it starts, and send me the bills.” They agree and she hang up. It feels good to be helping Cathy. She really seem like the right kind of person to help.

When she finds the jersey, she puts it on and leave the house. It's time for some shopping, because for Cherry, shopping is everyday life.

Cherry can almost see how the employees smile when she enters. This is the perks of being rich, she doesn't even bother to look at the price tag.

And then she sees a friendly face. One she haven't seen in a year, but it seems like much longer time. She might just be the only girl, who can make Cherry feel like she looks like a piece of garbage.

Zia's beautiful smile comes towards her. They hug. It's been so long.

“Zia, are you home? I can barely remember when I last saw you.” Cherry is actually very happy to see her.

“Cherry, it has been forever. Yes, I'm home for good now. Paris wasn't really me, I guess.” And they share a little laugh. Though there's the age gap between them, they had been great friends for a long time. Zia had been babysitting her. They just connected, but then again, Zia is great at making friends.

“Zia, would you like to have a cup of chocolate – or coffee, whatever you want, sometime?” She asks, and Zia nods.

“How about now?” She looks at her watch and Cherry looks at her watch.

“That would be lovely.” Cherry is in no hurry.

The local barista takes their orders; two chocolates with caramel sprinkles. And they reminisces the old days.

“So... what now? Why did you come home?” Along with Cherry's question comes a serious face. She senses that there is something wrong.

“It's Perry...” Zia starts. Cherry's face gets even more serious.

“He's not well.” She sighs. Cherry feel herself worry instantly. What does she mean with 'not well'? Is he dying or something?

“Would you care to elaborate on that?” Cherry asks, and Zia laughs. She must have sounded so serious that is was funny.

“He's fine, Cherry. It's just dad. He's been favoring me all my life, and now, where Perry got that job at his firm, they should be slightly closer to a better relationship. And mom, she doesn't see it. She's oblivious to dad and how he treats me. I worry for Perry, and I'm here to help him. We have been fighting a lot the past few weeks over the phone, before I came home from Paris. When I told mom and dad that I was coming home, they were high over heels about the news, and apparently, it overshadowed everything. Even the fact that Perry graduated, and did quite well. He called me every day to yell at me, and we would fight. Old fights from our childhood, when dad let me have the last cookie behind Perry's back, just for him to find out when he suggested we'd split it, and there was no cookie. I was supposed to be the good kid, and I thought I was. When dad gave me the last cookie, I asked if Perry have had equal as many as I would end up getting, and he said yes. It was fights like that. And new fights, like how I took his spotlight. Graduation time was supposed to be all about him, and all people talked about to his party, was about my homecoming.

At last I didn't want to come home, but he told me, that if I backed out now, that would be the subject the entire next year. He's over the edge, and if I can, I'll help him.”

She sips her chocolate and nips on the caramel sprinkles.

“He's clearly stressed.” Cherry says. Even though Zia had been babysitting Cherry back in the days, it was at high school where Cherry met Perry for the first time. Zia never spoke of him when she was babysitting Cherry, so she was oblivious for many years. Zia would be shocked if she told her, that she had a crush on her brother.

The only thing she could think of was poor Percival, stressed and not doing well. She wanted to help him, but wouldn't that just be weird? He probably didn't think of her anyway, if he remembered her, even.

So they talk more about the past, and then Cherry asks her if she needs a lift home, so she doesn't have to call her own driver.

They drive in Cherry's car in silence, and Zia's scent fills the car.

Flowers and candy.

Cherry - part 11

Cathy

Gum

If anyone knew how much it sucked to work a double shift, it was Cathy. As she stood in the shop and waited, she reminded herself how much she needed the money. It was so nice of Cherry to give her this offer. So nice and yet so unbelievable. How could she ever find time to go through an education?

She moved slowly to the music on the radio as Squeeze song “Tempted by the fruit of another, tempted but the truth is discovered...” when she saw him. Someone new. Someone she indeed haven't seen before. Instantly, she is interested. Not in him, but in her job again. She wonders how sad it is, that she's excited to see a new face. It doesn't really happen much. She even knew Percival before he asked for her service.

“Can I help you?” She asks the man, who is approximately somewhere late in his thirties. Not that tall, wearing a jacket which would never get in a fashion magazine. He's wearing a cap, too.

“I'm just looking.” He answers while walking around. He looks like he's having an out-of-body experience and she chuckles. He just looks so weird.

He turns to her.

“Excuse me?” He mutters, not angry at all, just absentmindedly.

“Sorry, you just look a little out of yourself.” She answers in a low voice. She is surprised when he nods. She leans over the disk, revealing a bit of cleavage, not that she wants to seduce the old guy, it just gets them talking. He looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't. For a long time he's hesitating to utter a word, until he finally breaks the silence.

“I know this is a fairly big town, but do you know a family that goes by the name of Cryx?” He asks, and she laughs. What kind of question is that, anyway? He's not from around here, why would he know the Cryx's? Cathy knows everyone in town. She knows who they know. She is in the middle of the gossip, so she cannot miss anything. If someone new came, she'd know. Who was this man?

“When living here, it's hard not to know the Cryx family. Why?” She answers, then proceeds to clean the desk.

“Just met one of them last night.” His pupils widens. He's perfectly still.

“They are important figures in one of the major projects that Mr. Waltz own. Mr. Waltz is the riches around here, owns pretty much everything important. Cryx is following nicely.” She elaborates, and figures that's much more than he needs to know.

“She was amazing.” He says under his breath. She? So Zia is back, she thinks. She had seen Zia multiple times, and she was without a doubt the most beautiful woman on this earth. Why would she know this man? And how come didn't she know all this yet?

“How did you meet her?” She asks him boldly.

“She was in my cab. I drove her from the airport.” He looked struck. Zia has that effect on people, even women.

“I see. Why was she returning?”

“Some personal stuff.”

They shared a look. One that cannot be defined. Just that look two people who've seen Zia can share.

He buys a pack of gum and a Coke, and drives slowly away.

Cherry - part 10

Percival

Blame

“Good morning, Zia.” And suddenly, his old urge to ask why they named her Zia comes up again. Who even remembered a more than twenty year old game? He have never known anyone who have heard about it, let alone played it. Why did they choose to call her that? But he doesn't ask. He's afraid to ask. Some part of him doesn't want to know anyway.

He wonder why his dad looks at her that way. That look of pride he never, ever got. At least not a sincere one.

He thought that was what he wanted. A boy, carrying on in the family business. Sort of, at least. Maybe it is because Zia didn't turn out like his mother, and became a housewife instead. She made something – someone – out of herself. So proud he was.

He knows the song she sings exists. She didn't make it up, she took it from that game. A game both of their parents knew and used to play. Zia looks a bit like mom sometimes, that's what he thinks when she puts up her hair, so it looks short. That black hair, that fair skin. That's all mom. Her height is without a doubt something from dad. Her personality is nothing like theirs, though. She's wise in a way only Zia can be. He never saw such cleverness and know-how in anyone else. If it wasn't for their parents, they would have had such great use of each other. He would not only be proud to be her brother, but he would forget the pettiness. If only things had been different. That's what he wonders all the time when he think about Zia. They would have been the perfect siblings and people would talk about them out and about.

It's the game, he ponders, for who know which time in his life. Why did it all had to be about the game? Does she feel special because of that game?

He blames the game.

But he also longs for the song, and keep repeating the sentence he could hear clearly last night.

“Some day those tears are gonna spill...” and the melody in his voice doesn't do his sister justice, but that's all his imagination can handle, apparently.

He pours a glass of juice and shot a glance at his sister, sitting there, looking like a freaking model. How does she even do that, she just got up ten minutes ago? He heard her walk from the bed to the door. She's still wearing her night gown.

All the pretty genes in the family got to her. Another reason to be jealous of his ever so perfect sister. She's a beauty, but does she know how much she can mesmerize others, just by looking at them? She's so modest.

There's no pulp in his orange juice.

Cherry - part 9

Zia

Years

She sees her dad at the morning table. It must be the first time in several years she sees him at that table. He was always working. Gone before her or Percival even got up. She smiles at him, noticing how that year have changed him. Does he really look that old? How does other people see him? Those, who are used to see him every day, do they notice the years sneaking up on him?

“Good morning, dad.” She says, as she places herself next to him. There's coffee in front of him.

“Zia, I'm so glad you came home, finally. The place is nothing without you.”

They hug and talk about her teaching job in Paris. As she figured, not much is going on in their life. He got that bonus.

Percival stands in the doorway, looking at them. He says nothing. He probably thinks they haven't noticed him, but Zia has. She doesn't dare look directly at him. He seems upset.

“... and then he fired the old assistant! Would you believe it? You knew him, right? Eh, miss Darsy's son? Anyway, I got the chance to hire Percy instead, which just might be better, who knows. But still, the kid didn't do nothing wrong, why would he let him go like that, without warning?”

“That's nice.” She answers.

She laughs. Percival seems to lighten up a bit, when he hears his dad mention him in a good way in front of Zia. He comes to the table and sit down.

She looks at her dad again. She never understood how a person could change so rapidly. A year in her life seemed like a lifetime. For him, she wondered if the years just kept coming without him noticing. Another Christmas, another birthday, another new years eve, passed without a single notice. He sighs, and she realize how stupid her flow of thoughts is.

He sighs again.

Cherry - part 8

Cherry

Honors

Cathy's story was heartbreaking for her to listen to. A girl who went through that much trouble throughout her life did not deserve to be yelled at.

She wonders if anyone would be so nice to her if she had to leave home. Who did she even know who could take her in for good? She looked at the poor girl and wanted to help her. She could. Would she take her charity? Would she be offended and leave, if she offered her money? She wanted to get to know Cathy. She had a courage she never could find in herself.

“Cathy, may I help you?” She said, after a long, long silence. She looked at her weirdly, as if she had said 'May I kill you and then rape your lifeless body?', but she had offered her help. That wasn't something she shouldn't be the least bit used to by now. She had been helped before. Couldn't she take Cherry's help, then?

“Why?” She said slowly, hesitating.

“I think you've done a great thing, considering. You deserve a better job, something you would like to do. You deserve the chance to get an education. And I would be honored to help you get on with your life.”

Cathy looked offended, and Cherry was immediately regrettable in her speech. She shouldn't have said what she said. Not like that. She made Cathy sound like a social loser. Which she kind of is, but she still did a great, great thing by making it on her own for so long.

“You'll help me get on with my life?” She snorted, and Cherry was confused. Was that the part she was offended by? She must be able to see for herself, that her life is going no where.

“I would be honored to help you.” She repeated, this time slower, apologetic.

“Fine then!” She bursted, then calmed herself. “You wanna help me? Good! Then I'll send you all my checks. I'll go search for an education and I'll buy all the stuff one could ever need, and I'll send you the bill. Fine? Because that's what I want!” Her breathing got heavier.

“Calm down, Cathy. That's not what I meant, and you know it. I may have the resources to do such, but that doesn't mean I want to give you a life of luxury on a silver platter. No way. Believe it or not, even though my family is rich beyond belief, doesn't mean I get everything served. In this family, you have to prove your right to get a bigger room. You have to do good in school and do chores at home to get access to that loaded credit card, your parents hold above your head. In this family, they lie to you about how far you are. You may already have done everything around there is to do, you have done the maids' jobs for a week, you've stayed late up and studied to get straight A's. You're exhausted and they tell you there's just this one more thing... And you can go buy yourself whatever you want, but no, there's always just a bit more. My father works all the time and my mother is a classic housewife. I was her toy for many years. What could she make me do next? That's how it is to grow up here, it's not toys and plays all the time. They make you think that, but no. So I'll help you, the same way I was helped. You are going to start an education. I'll pay for it, but you're not getting a cent more than what the school bills me. Everything else is on you, and I suggest you go get some money in the bank, because computer, notepads, books... they are not cheap. When you're through, I'll give you ten thousand dollars, but only if you graduate with a decent result. And do I even have to tell you, that if you don't make it through, I will not pay a single penny anymore. Choose right in the first place, get in, and we got ourselves a deal. Okay?”

She was shocked, Cherry could see the shock in her eyes. She nodded.

“What do you get out of all this?” She mumbles. Cherry shrugs.

“A project, I think, while I work.”

Cathy's dress is stained by some tea she spilled at some point.

Noget om Zia

Som jeg har fortalt jer tidligere, er alle medvirkende i bogen personer fra det virkelige eller uvirkelig liv - med lige Cherry som undtagelsen.

I Part 7 får I lidt baggrundsviden om Zia, men det bliver skam ikke den sidste baggrundshistorie, der kommer. Selv om jeg er 28 sider inde (jeg publiser langsomt, det ved jeg godt, men jeg forsøger at holde lidt spænding ud, og jeg vil gerne kunne udgive noget på trods af skriveblokade eller travlhed) er historien knap nok begyndt. I har ikke engang mødt alle personerne endnu.

Zia er min personlige yndling, i hvert fald indtil videre. Jeg håber også I kan lide hende. Hun virker måske overfladisk, men sådan er det ikke. Hun er meget godhjertet og glad.

Hvis I har nogle spørgsmål omkring personerne, skal I bare spørge. Jeg svarer gerne!

With love

RN <3

Cherry - part 7

Percival

Song

He looks at the clock. 2:30 in the morning. And now she's coming home?

He hears her voice from his room on the second floor. Her voice have always been fierce, but ever so smooth. How is that even possible? Even when she talks, she really sings. Yes, his sister has many talents, and she became a teacher, of all things. She doesn't mean anyone to hear her. Maybe it's only Percival who does. He can recognize that song from miles away. Suddenly he remembers how he missed Zia. Zia, like an angel she would always remind me to do the right thing. And he's glad that she has that influence on him. However simple it seems, staying on the right track could be hard. At least for him.

Well, he made it a year without hearing that song, and though he knows that his father will be favoring her when he wakes up and until she leaves, he still admits to himself that he missed that song, that voice.

He never knew what it was about, really. Yes, he could hear the lyrics, but what did it mean?

She was named after a character in a game, Bastion, where Zia, a fair skinned, black haired girl sings that song. Their voices are even so alike. When she was younger, the game became an obsession. It may be old, but the game sure was beautiful, an artwork. The only way in which she doesn't reassemble Zia, is the height. With her 5'7 she's far from tiny. And she does also look like an angel. That's what she have been told forever. He doubts if she actually believe any of it.

He opens the window wide to hear better.

“Some day those tears are gonna spill...” he hear from the ground. She opens the door and the voice comes with her, leaving the front garden ever so empty.

He never understood why his parents named her after a character in an old game. He never played the game himself, in some kind of rebellion. But she was obsessed, at least for a while, and he watched her play some times. When she found Zia, she was mute for a week.

She never sing that song in front of other people, but that voice of hers is hard to miss some times, at least for him. She feels like it also belongs to her, at least a little bit.

In the old days, when they were friends all the time, he could sit for himself in his couch after a crappy day, and even Zia's words didn't get to him. He could sit there until she went to bed, walking around in her silk dress, her favorite, and sing because she absentmindedly tidied her room and went to bed. And that song could change his perspective on everything. He would get up and go to sleep like a good boy.

And he would sleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Zia is quiet now. She's in her old room, only touched my maids who cleaned. Ready for her to use at any time, if she came home from Paris.

He walks to her door and knocks. She opens the door and smiles.

“Perry, it's been so long.” And she hugs him. He hugs her back.

“It sure has, Zia. How was Paris?”

“It was nice, but it's good to be home again.”

They walk inside her room. Huge as an apartment, just like his.

“How bad is it?” She asks, worried, obviously.

“I feel like I'm drowning here, Zia. I missed you.” She hugs him again.

“How about mom and dad? Are they okay?” She asks with flatness in her voice.

“Fine, as always. Dad just got a bonus from Mr. Waltz. Mom is still just chilling with the other housewives.” He shrugs and smiles.

“Don't drown, Perry. I cannot save you from drowning. So don't.”

Her voice is baffling as it always is. He nods a mumbles “Goodnight, Zia.” and goes to bed.

Like a good boy.

Cherry - part 6

Zia

Homecoming

Darkness surround her. If it were not for the well lit speed-o-meter, she wouldn't be able to see the cab driver. She knows he wants to talk with her. Everybody wants to talk to her. For her, it seems like the only thing she has been doing the last week.

Her brother, phoning her every day. Her father and mother phoning her once in a while, but seems too much. Everything is a little too much for her right now.

It doesn't help talking to the cab driver. She thought it would, but it doesn't. Talking never really helped. Maybe she's damaged.

“So how was Paris? I've never been there.” He says. He is mumbling, and it annoys her. Why does everyone mumble around her?

“It was rainy. It was cold. And sometimes it was a little warmer.”

They are again quiet, but the silence is awkward. He obviously wants to talk to her, and is struggling to choose a topic.

“Right... I was thinking more about your teaching job. How was that?”

She shrugs. It's an honest shrug. How was it anyway? She never really thought about it.

“It was good. The kids were good. Hard to leave them.” But it wasn't. It had not been hard to leave at all. She had been the outsider. She didn't speak french. Making a living in France and then not speaking french is harder than it should be. She was happy she was an english teacher. The kids knew english, and they were forced to speak english whenever she was around. They were fast learners, but it was an advance class, the same class she taught music. They never really cared for her, though. Yes, she was easy on the eyes, and she got by. But she didn't want to get by with her looks only.

“So what forced you home?” He disturbs her flow of thoughts.

“Nothing forced me, per se.” She says.

“A broken heart?” He guesses, and the guess makes her angry. Does she look like someone who just got dumped?

“No. Just... family business.” She explains, and agrees with herself not to get more into her whereabouts to the cab driver. He doesn't need to know a thing.

She starts humming. He seems scared to breathe.

And just like that, silence falls again, and within half an hour, they pull up to the house, the giant house she hadn't seen in a year. Didn't really change much.

So much like that home she used to know.

The cab driver carries her luggage out and says: “Goodbye miss Cryx. And good luck.”

Cherry - part 5

Cab driver

Angel

The man with the white sign is in the front of all the cabdrivers. The girl walks towards him and flashes a perfect smile with her pearly teeth, and her black, long hair frames her round face with the deep, brown eyes. Sometimes, she doesn't notice all the eyes pointing towards her. People is drawn to her beauty and she doesn't even notice. The cab driver smiles at her, and she may think it's because he have been waiting for a long time, but little does she knows, he is baffled by her beauty. She shakes his hand and he puts down the sign with her name, locking his eyes on her. They walk to the cab in silence. He doesn't dare to speak to her. She's just shy and doesn't know what to say.

He is taking it all in – her ever so sweet scent, the memory of her velvet voice when she presented herself, her next to perfect look, her eyes so brown he might get lost in them, her lips, slightly pink, even without lipstick, the black, silky hair, which lightly fly around her, her dress, that smoothly curls around her perfect body. She walks more graceful than he have ever seen anybody walk. Like an angel, he thinks. He wonders if she is a model. Everything about her is perfect. She is somewhere between 5'6 and 5'8, so she is kind of tall. She is a tall beauty, from her polished toenails in silver sandals, to the top of her head, where, on her black hair, is placed a deep purple beret to match with her deep purple dress. She is a bit pale, but it soothes her. Her paleness is a perfect contrast to everything on her.

“I'll take your luggage, miss.” He says, trying to focus.

“Thank you.” She says, and her voice baffles him once again. He wonders how old she is.

And they drive. She sits still in the front seat and he is fine with not talking. He wants to talk to her, but she has this effect on him, this enchanting, stunning effect, and he just doesn't know what to say to a goddess like her.

“I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” She says. Wonder if she could read his mind. He smiles. He was actually a bit annoyed to be standing there for half an hour, but when he saw her, he didn't mind at all. He would have waited an hour. He didn't mind. And he was glad that they had a long ride ahead of them.

“Oh, I really don't mind, miss. Don't feel bad.” He smiles, but she doesn't notice. Why would she notice anything about him, anyway? To say he was out of her league would be the underestimation of the year.

“That's so nice of you to say. Thank you. I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I was on the phone with my brother, and... I don't even know why I'm bothering you with this story. You already said it was fine. Never mind.” Her voice is flat in the end. Every word she says is like singing a bit within every word.

“I don't mind you telling me. I mean, cab drivers are the new bartenders, right? I mean, of course, if it's too personal, then don't... I mean... It's up to you, really. I just don't mind. Always nice with a bit conversation. We do have a long way ahead of us.” He tries to say it as happily as possible. He doesn't want to put her in an awkward decision.

“I guess you're right.” She says. The next few minutes in the cab is completely silent. Then she breaks the silence.

“I was on the phone with my brother. He is in a real bad place right now. I don't think he wants me to come home either. I mean, he loves me as much as I love him. Our father is just have a kind of way of favoring me. I never wanted that, and I don't understand him, either. They should be close, but I don't think they are so close when I'm present. I do feel bad about coming home so soon, but I just had to. I don't know why. Maybe I was homesick. Maybe I was sick of Paris.”

She stops quickly, as if she said too much. When he knows that nothing more is coming from her, he feels obligated to answer.

“What did you do in Paris?” And he expects to hear about a modeling job.

“I'm a teacher. I was an english and music teacher in Paris.” He thinks back to his school. No teacher he ever had was this good looking. Or that young.

“A teacher, huh. Wow.”

He thinks about how she smells. Flower and candy.

Cherry - part 4

Cathy

Story

In all her days as the local whore, she had never been anywhere so fancy as at the Waltz family resident. The house is huge and each room is beautifully decorated. She follows Cherry into one of her rooms – her living room. Bigger than Cathy's living room in her apartment. But her apartment is kind of tiny, but also pretty cheap. The party is still going on, and they had to take one of the other doors, just to prevent anyone from seeing Cherry's red eyes.

Cathy does not fear the coming questions. She is willing to tell everything. She sits down in one of the chairs around the coffee table.

“James, could you bring us a pot of tea, a plate of cookies and the usual bowl of sweets.” Cherry calls in a microphone.

“Your family has a butler called James?” Cathy asks.
“Well, yes. James is my butler. My parents have their own, that's Jeremy.” She smiles apologetic, as if it is indeed her fault, that Cathy never made anything useful of herself and her skills. She holds a grin when she realizes, that she has no skills. Nothing that can be used in the exposing daylight.

James is quite quick. The tea, the plate and the bowl is placed on a pretty tray, and he places it in front of them. Of course Cathy eats. But just not really in front of her clients. And not before a blowjob, especially. She is afraid of vomiting, though her experience. And she cannot gain weight, because then she'll lose what is left of her few clients.

Cherry sips her tea as a real lady. Lady Cherry, she thinks for herself, what an honor to meet you, I am miss Cathy, from the Goethe family. Cathy's family doesn't have anything, and her parents is divorced, after a crucial breakup when her mother and father cheated both, but her father was the first to find out, and from then on, they only spoke whenever a lawyer was present. Most of their money went for lawyers and such, and poor, little Cathy had already moved out by then, but she never got anything from them. Not at all. Not ever.

Make-believe will not do her good, and Cathy knows that. But sometimes, it is nice to pretend, just for that second it takes to sip from the teacup.

“Cathy, I am awfully sorry about your situation. It cannot be easy.” Cherry says, and a fire inside Cathy is burning in a funny way. It is not anger, but so close. She must be offended, yes, Cathy is indeed offended. She doesn't know a thing, Cherry doesn't know anything.

“Don't be.” Cathy mutters through her teeth, and judging Cherry's expression, she knows she went too personal, too far.

“I just don't get it. Why would you even start doing it?”

Now Cathy could understand, even answer. She had been longing to tell this story for so long, but no one ever cared to ask. She smiled her smirky smile and began telling her story.

“When I was 14, my mom and dad was never around. They both had affairs. My dad was having sex with my aunt, and he went to see her all the time. He stayed there for weeks, claiming it was a business trip. My mom never cared, she had affairs all over the town. Not at the same time, though. Most of the time, it was our former neighbour. He was three years younger and good looking. Once, they were at home, I came inside, but they didn't notice me. I opened the door to the bedroom just enough so I could see them. It was so loud that they didn't notice me. He looked like he was raping her. His face, red and sweaty, banging his waist against hers. She was bowed in a weird position, and for some reason I never really understood, she was moaning and clapping her own chest at the same time. I just ran from home, not knowing what to make of this. A friend took me in, as I explained I couldn't possibly stay at home. And I was in the best of luck, since my friend owned the building, in which I live in now. She told me I could rent with a discount when I got some money. How does a 14 year old girl get money? Well, she sure as hell doesn't know. Again, I was in the best of luck, as I met a man on the street one day, he was asking for directions. He asked, before leaving, where I was heading, and I told him I was looking for a job, anywhere they'd take me in. He happened to run a small store, and what he could offer me was not much, not enough for rent, that's for sure, but I took it as a start. Well, two years went by like that. I saved everything I got paid. I worked overtime each day. The money was illegal and I never cared. Taxes and stuff was not a luxury I could or would afford. Right before my 17^th birthday, one of my costumers at the store was a very, very nice looking man. He had come in after hours to pick up a package from the mail, which he couldn't get in the daytime when he was working. I had volunteered to work overtime and close the shop. We got to talk and suddenly his expression changed and became... mysterious and dark. He told me how his wife had left him and how he was ever so lonely. He stroke my hair so gently as he told me, that if she had only been more... willing... it would have turned out fine. Their relationship would never have cracked. But she never was willing. He kissed me and one thing led to another. He took the innocence I had left. Afterward, he gave me a 'tip', which was far more generous than I had ever received, combined. This was how to get money. This was the way. I told him that if he needed anything, he should call me. And if he knew any friends, they were ought to call me as well. He left with the words “Little miss, this is no way to make a living. And if it is, so let it be. You better suck hard.” I actually never saw him again, but he had made a hell of a work out and about. People came into the store, trying to arrange meetings with me. I wasn't good at the time, but I was the only one. Absolutely the only one. And I took every costumer I could get. Some even taught me a thing or two as well. I had a nighttime job, and all went great. It was hard and exhausting at first, but I got the hang of it. When a rumor started, that I was sick, I lost most of my costumers. It was good, because it taught me to be picky. Suddenly, I was some kind of high class whore, and I got paid more because I was picky, and knew who I wanted to serve. Rumors was still spread, of course, but I never bothered me. And now, here I am. 19 years old.”

Cherry has stopped drinking her tea. The cup is half empty, and she haven't touched it in a long time. Maybe it's Cathy's fault, but she doesn't really wonder. The tea does taste good, though, but Cherry is used to it. She has to be.

“I see.” She says, face smooth as a real lady. Cathy is still, so perfectly quiet, one could hear a cricket if there happened to be one. She waits for another question. Cherry observes Cathy like she was poisonous. Like if she spoke too quickly, she would infect her. As if she would infect the entire, huge house and leave the bodies to rot. Cathy thinks Cherry is afraid of her. Just a little, tiny bit.

“Don't you have any plans for the future? No wish for an education?” Cherry sounds very concerned, maybe she pities her. Cathy doesn't want nobody’s pity, and for a brief second, she hates Cherry, the fine, rich lady so much she wants to slap her. Her hatred passes and she smiles.

“I wanted to be everything in the entire world,” Cathy answers with a dreamy look, as she remembers all her fantasy jobs, “I wanted to be a life coach, for troubled kids. Getting the leaders of tomorrow a fresh start, a clean slate, back on the right track. And I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. One to comfort and play with the kids for a year before they had to start the rough life in school. And I wanted to be a fire-woman, and rescue people in need. And I wanted to be a social employee, and help where I could, where the society would need someone. I wanted to be someone who was needed. I wanted to be that someone. And then reality hit me in the head, and reminded me how I have no time or money for a fancy education. How would I pay? I only have a little saved up in the bank, mostly for injuries, since I don't have health insurance. I just don't have the money. So no, I have no educational plans. I have a fine job at the store, I pay my rent every month, right on time. I don't have money for luxuries like fancy food or dresses, all my clothing comes from second-hand shops. Even this dress. Do you believe anyone wouldn't want it? Anyway, I make do, and that's enough.” She smiles again, this time without any sincerity at all.

The look in Cherry's eyes, is a look Cathy have seen a few times before; the look of pity. That look is a look she doesn’t care for at all. Should she go? She takes another cookie and leans back. Wonder when she'll have cookies this good ever again.

Næste del er ude!

I har sikkert været meget spændte på den næste del af Cherry, og denne gang er det også hende, der er fortælleren. Den næste del er det Cathy's tur til at fortælle, så glæd jer!

Forresten, så er alle personerne (undtagen Cathy) bygget på virkelig eller fiktive personer, dels fordi jeg er virkelig dårlig til at finde på ordentlige navne (jeg har det med at genbruge) men mest fordi jeg elsker at forestille mig hvordan en person, f.eks. fra en film, ville være hvis vedkommende var i et helt andet setting. Der kommer flere personer til, og jeg har lige i øjeblikket to nye personer, der skal skrives ind i historien.

Nyd den næste del.

With love

RN ^^

Cherry - part 3

Cherry

Questions

“What the fuck are you doing?” She yells, and now his eyes open wider than anyone she has ever seen before. He takes up his pants and starts to run. Cathy is on the ground, not showing emotions at all.

“Do you think this is the first time I’ve been caught during business?” She asks. Cherry is confused. Business?

“What do you mean? Who are you? I don’t even know your full name.” She yells.

“Chill, snob. I’m not from in there,” Cathy points to the giant house, “I’m from the city. And my name is Cathy Goethe, and you obviously don’t know me. But I know you, miss Waltz, because everyone knows the Waltz. They don’t have to make money the hard way.” She laughs a little of her own pun.

“Hey, we did go through a lot to get where we are today.” She shrieks. She cannot calm down. She knew what they did. Why would neat Percival Cryx do a thing like that?

“I know, and now you’re neatly put in the snob-drawer. Good for you. Did you want more from me?”

Cherry wants to ask all kinds of questions, but she doesn’t. What would it help anyway. Though she can feel her eyes tearing up, she mutters “No.” and turns around.

Cathy rise from the ground, casually and silent. She giggles, and Cherry finds her mocking her. She doesn't say anything, though, because she just can't seem to put her mind in order. Why would Percival Cryx do that?

“Your eyes are tearing.” Cathy states without any sign of emotion being heard anywhere in her voice. As if she was a robot, stating the obvious at all times. Cherry gets mad and turns around, exposing her red eyes at Cathy to tell her 'this hurts'.

“You know, I once had a client with an ex-girlfriend just like that. She wasn't over him, but he really didn't like her. So he came to me to get it done. A boy has needs. And she came to me and stared at me while crying and then she yelled at me as if I had done anything wrong.” Cherry felt like screaming at her, telling her that she made a good, innocent boy a victim of the pressure of society. But she doesn't utter a word.

“You're in love with him.” Again, she's stating the obvious. Cherry gets more and more mad at her, and wish she could just scream. But her lips is still.

“I can't blame ya,” Cathy says in a fake, foreign accent, “now that I've been there, I could go again. I mean, even though I've done some shady stuff in my days, does not mean I can't acknowledge a real nice...”

“DO NOT SAY IT!” Cherry screams, finally. Cathy looks at her, stunned. She holds perfectly still.

“I don't want to hear about it. What is done is done, and I have to forget every feeling I've ever had about that boy. I thought he was decent, but no.” She sighs and wipe away her tears.

“Hold your horses, snob. Just because he was insecure, you're gonna drop him? Girl, you're not gonna get any boy with that attitude. Trust me, I've seen them all; the sure-of-themselves, the scared, the needy, the really needy, and then there's boys like him; those who have so little self-esteem that they think they'll never get any girl ever – especially to go down on him.” She shrugs and faces Cherry, who stand in confusion, listening. She couldn't possibly believe that he was insecure. Fine, neat Percival. He couldn't possibly be insecure, not so much that he'd go to... that woman... She couldn't believe it. And she knew she had to ask questions now.

“I do want more from you.” She says, slowly. “I need you to answer some questions.”

Cathy nods. “Can we do it inside? It's a bit cold, and it's not getting warmer.”

Cherry turns around and make a sign for Cathy to tag along.

Cathy makes a hop and follows Cherry.

Cherry - part 2

Percival

Corner

Percival feels strange when he watch Cherry leave. She had done it sudden, like when the drunks disappear, but Cherry doesn’t drink. She despise alcohol. She must have been frightened in her early years. He looks away, just in time before Cherry looks back. She doesn’t return.

Cathy talk and talk about nothing. He looks at her, her body skinny as the rest of the people are. She is just as beautiful as any other girl, but no one looks different from each other, he thinks. Her blond hair is short and looks crisp. Her hairdresser must be new, he think to himself, otherwise she would have used hairspray and not wax. Amateur. He had graduated with fine grades, and was already promised a job as his fathers assistant. Though his father was not at all the head of the department, he was still entitled to a assistant, and he could choose anyone he’d like. I’m lucky in that way. It’s a nice job, I think. He hear Cathy's voice change, and he knows she asked a question, which he did not hear. “Sorry?” He asks, momentarily distracted by her cleavage.

“Are you not going to touch me at all?” She asks, her voice fierce. “I figured you brought me to this charade for nothing?” And he remembers his agenda. Cathy was his agenda.

At least tonight. He did not feel anything special for her at all. He barely knew her, even though she had been pouring stories about her life all night. He had barely heard a whole sentence in each story.

“Can we get out of this place. I don’t eat.” She shakes her head slightly. “Yeah, sure.” He murmurs, and as they walk towards one of the giant doors, he spots Cherry, alone in a corner.

Cathy takes his hand and starts running slightly. They stop at one of the street corners, only slightly lit. She press her small body towards his. He is a bit more muscular, even though he never really had time to exercise.

“Look,” she says firmly, “that took three hours. And for what? Nothing happened. And I don’t eat food. I was bored and I don’t really have all night. Plus, I know all the rumors you’ve heard, trust me, they get to me at some point. Don’t trust everything you hear. I’m not sick. I don’t do this on a regular basis. It is only at crisis times that I do this. Also, very few people even dare ask me for ... services, anymore. Once, yes, and I denied a lot. I always made sure they were good families and healthy. I know what you’ve heard... and I cannot stress enough that it is not true. At least not all of it.”

Percival shakes his head in agreement. He would never have asked her if he trusted any of those rumors. If they were all true, she would be dead now.

“How would you like this done?” She asks, now with a professional voice, that scares him. It makes her sound more professional than she should.

“I really, really don’t know. Just do the usual, if you have a usual.” He shrugs.

“You’re the one paying, mister. If you have any wishes, do tell.” She almost smiles, and for a moment, she looks ten times as pretty. And now it’s gone.

He sees how she goes down on her knees, right there in front of him. In the almost darkness, in the totally deserted streets, there he stands; a wealthy son of an important man, getting his first blowjob from the local whore.

She gets up quickly. “Just a few questions. Would you like that I swallowed? I can do that. Would you like any special moves?” She shot glances at his exposed crotch now and then, and when nothing seems to happen, he doesn’t even answer more than with a shrug, she does down again and starts working.

He feels sorry for her. He can feel nothing, and he doesn’t want his money wasted. He starts thinking about girls. The kind of girls he have seen in the magazine at a friends house, hidden below the bed. He thinks about girl who takes their clothing off, who touches themselves while doing so. And then he thinks of Cherry. How she had looked when she walked towards him just fifteen minutes ago. How she had made his heart flutter. And then he moans when he feels the first touch of soft, moist lips.

It goes on like this for a while. The though of her effect on him is lingering. When he thinks about touching her, the feeling in his belly grows.

They are both too absorbed in the situation, so when footsteps is heard, no one notices. He looks up, right into Cherry's blue eyes, and he sight of her is overwhelming. He closes his eyes as if she was merely a projection of his imagination, and comes into Cathy's mouth. A slight swallowing sound is heard, and then silences falls around them.

Informationer omkring historien, så I ikke bliver forvirrede :)

Nogle gange, når jeg læser historien igennem, går det op for mig, at den kan være ret forvirrende for de, der ikke er inde i den endnu. Fordi den kommer i dele, i stedet for hele historien på en gang, kan det godt blive lidt forvirrende.

Lige en ting først: fordi min blog hedder Riiwiis weeklys, betyder det ikke, at der er 'kun' kommer historier hver uge. Det er mere en garanti for, at der i hvert fald kommer en ny del hver uge.

Der bliver sprunget i tiden! Historien foregår ikke nødvendigvis 100% kronologisk, og det bliver mere tydeligt som historien skrider frem. Der bliver også sprunget i tiden, hvilket betyder, at hvis I sidder og tænker 'skrev hun ikke lige i nutid før? Hvorfor er det datid nu?' så er det ikke fordi jeg ikke kan kende forskel på nutid og datid, det er rent faktisk meningen.

Den er ikke inddelt i kapitler, men i dele (nogen vil måske argumentere for, at det er det samme) men jeg har valgt at give hver fortæller ca. en side, hvilket udgør en 'del' af historien.

Historien hedder (indtil videre) 'Cherry', men der er mange fortællere, som bliver introduceret senere.

Den næste fortæller, som kommer i næste del, er Percival. Som I nok har Lagt mærke til, er det ikke en jeg-fortæller. Hvorfor så have individuelle fortællere, tænker I nok. Det er simpelthen for at give et lidt anderledes syn på historien (eller de mange små historier, der foregår) men mest af alt et andet syn på de andre fortællere.

Jeg håber, I vil kunne bruge denne forklaring, hvis der er noget, I er i tvivl om. Som sagt tilhører den næste del Percival, og jeg håber I vil kunne lide ham som fortæller. Hans del kommer ud senere i dag.

With love

RN