Venus flytrap

Stan hit the open air of the concourse, flinging his jacket across his shoulders and slipping it on. How to get this Carol to open up? He had not taken more than a dozen steps, when he heard a voice call him.

“Hey wait!” It was Deacon, standing in the open door.

Stan chuckled, “Miss me already? What’s the deal freaky Deke?”

“I don’t know, just may or may not be something, but I just remembered Oliver telling me he was involved in some kind of game with the girls over at Omega Pi. They’ve got these wristbands-,”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I saw one of those breast cancer bands when I was over there,” he interrupted before shrugging his shoulders.

“No, not breast cancer. These ones were like favors, or tokens from the girls, symbols of affection he called them,” Deacon explained, suddenly feeling somewhat foolish for bringing them up.

Stan nodded slowly, “Good to know,” he said, clapping the boy on the shoulder.

“Three of them, that’s what Oliver had said to me, it took three of them to get a date with the girl of your dreams,” he explained.

Leaving Deacon, Stan mulled over the information. Was it something? What did it mean? The fact Deacon and Oliver set up an ‘ask and answer’ code meant the pair were at intuitively onto a sense of wrongness.

What if he could get himself some of those bands or at least something that resembled them? He could use them to attract this Carol’s attention. He was not entirely sure where to go after that, but he was a hell of an improviser on the fly.

Ducking into a trendy looking little shop, he found exactly what he was looking for, three pink bands of similar vibrancy as he recalled seeing on the girl’s wrist. Each of the bands had the same I heart symbol boobies message.

Taking the bands over to the register, he set them on the counter and gave the young woman behind the till a smile.

Looking at the bands then at Stan, she arched an eyebrow.

Grin turning mischievous, “I am all about the fight,” he replied, flashing her a friendly wink.

The girl chuckled and shook her head as she rung them up. “You want a bag?”

Handing her money, “Nope, there’s no need to wrap them up sweetheart,” he advised sliding each of the bands over his right hand. “I’ll wear them to show my unwavering support,” he said, raising the banded hand and curling his fingers into a fist.

Exiting the shop, Stan pushed the bands up his arm so that the sleeve of his jacket covered them. Chuckling, he made his way to Cup of Joe’s where he grabbed himself a coffee. The place was not too busy, so he took a seat that gave him a decent view of the interior of the shop.

It was easy enough for him to pick out who Carol was, so he waited until she was in range. Taking a sip, he made a satisfied noise and held the cup out at arm’s length, “Damn, that is one fine cup of coffee,” he praised declaratively, voice loud before smacking his lips.

Carol turned in his direction, wide smile on her face, “That sounded like another satisfied customer,” she said.

Looking up from his coffee, Stan returned her smile, “Chalk me up, goddamn that’s good. Did you make it?”

“No, not personally, I own the place though,” she informed.

Stan wrinkled up his face, “Own the place? Joe?” he challenged, the incredulous look on his handsome face intended to be an open invitation for her to engage in conversation.

“No, not Joe, Carol,” she introduced.

“I thought you might be a student here,” Stan replied, chuckling. He guess she might be early thirties, but it was hard to be certain.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she gushed.

The door to the shop opened and two people walked, a tall kid with a gorgeous looking girl hanging off his arm. There, very clearly, three bands around his right wrist. The girl wrapped him was an absolute specimen with her blonde streaked dark brown hair pulled back. While pretty, her eyes looked like chipped glacier, cold. The Omega Pi logo over her breast removed any doubt in his mind about her affiliation.

“Excuse me a moment,” Carol said, turning from him and walking toward the newly arrived duo who took a seat near the window.

Stan picked up their names, Kent and Maeve. Taking another drink off his coffee, he strained to listen in without looking like an avid eavesdropper. A party. The bands. Tonight. Omega Pi. He smiled slyly.

Another girl arrived, stunning, hair almost white pulled back off her face.

Stan got that ‘someone walking over your grave’ shimmy up the back of his spine. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. Had to be part of the Pi cult, he just felt it. Why were they all so bloody good looking?

The new girl joined Carol and the couple, plunking down in a spare seat. He heard the name Elisha. Carol vanished back behind the counter, leaving the trio at the table.

Outwardly, it sounded and looked like the girls were vying for the kid’s attention, competing. Stan had been around the block enough times and wise enough to know better. The body language, the subtle nuances, touches, almost incidental, innocuous. It was like watching a pair of spiders cocoon an unwary fly.

Not that the kid noticed or even seemed to care, the poor sap blinded by the sheer physical of the vamps.

He serious doubted anything could chisel the grin off the kid’s face.

Carol returned to the group with coffees in hand before coming back over to Stan’s table.

“I pretty good with faces, so you must be new here,” she said, sliding easily into the seat across from him.

Giving her a cheek grin, “Let’s see what my face tells you about me?” he invited,

Leaning forward, “Let me see,” she said, glancing down and taking his big right hand in both of hers. Turning it over, she traced her fingertips over the callused palm. Grinning, she smiled coyly.

“Well?”

“Working man’s hand,” she offered. “Roguishly handsome, but you know it.”

The grin on Stan’s face widened, but it was all for show. In the back of his mind, the thought crossed his mind she might already know who he is because of the information network these broads seemed to have.

“Confidant to the point of being cocky, but it suits you,” she added, eyes sparkling.

Even knowing she was spinning a web over him, it still required serious effort on his part to resist her charm. Clearing his throat, “And?”

Turning her head slightly to the side, expression evaluative, “Mystery. The strong silent type maybe?” she posed, finger still caressing the palm of his hand.

He heard the voice of old Father McNulty clear as a bell in his head, “Wine, women, and song are the ruin of many a young man.” Visualizing the old preacher made Stan chuckle aloud. If not for the old man pushing Stan into boxing, Stan would most surely have found himself on the wrong side of the law as an angry young man.

Carol laughed, “I’m close aren’t I?” she question, still caressing his hand.

“Like a bee on pollen,” he replied, knowing this was no bee, this was a wasp.

Tapping her index finger against his palm, “The one thing I don’t know yet is your name,” she chided.

“Ford,” he replied, using the back half of his first name Stanford just in case she had some way to detect if he was lying.

“Like the car company?” she asked.

With a grin Stan nodded, catching sight of the boy Kent getting to his feet.

Carol chuckled, “What is it about you?” she asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

Keeping his eyes glue on the pretty proprietress, Stan shrugged casually as Kent shared a few parting words with the two girls before heading alone to the door.

Curling her hand around his index and middle fingers, “We close up here around six, I could give you the grand tour after that?” she offered, the suggestion of hidden promise in her voice.

After Kent had walked off a ways, “Sure, maybe, wait,” he replied, reclaiming his hand and pulling out his phone, making like it had vibrated in his pocket. Calling up the screen, “Jeez,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Carol gave him a concerned look, “Everything okay?”

Nodding, Stan got to his feet. “I’m not sure. You have no idea how much I would love to get that tour, but, shit, pardon my French, give me your number and if I can sort this out, I’m in,” he replied, opening a new contact profile on his phone.

Carol smiled, providing him with her cell number.

Saving the information, “Sweet,” he said before giving her a wink and slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“You better not stand me up,” she warned, “otherwise I will be a little cross with you,” she added, waggling a finger.

Grinning, he nodded and exited the shop. Taking out his phone, he put it to his ear and pretended to take a call, moving in the same general direction as Kent.