Write at the Merge: 24 Karat Revenge

My second mistake was wearing those shoes.

My first mistake was listening to Ronnie. 

“Would you do it?” she cooed, her freshly-dyed spikey black hair glistening in the streetlight glow.   Hair that up until yesterday had been styled in a brunette page boy.  Ronnie’s mysterious velvet coated question hung between us for only a few seconds before she answered it herself, by handing me a can of spray paint. Gold Dust.  

Silly me.  I’d thought that when Ronnie called this morning and said she was in the mood to go out, she meant to socialize.  So I’d dressed accordingly, wearing my electric blue spandex dress and 4” leopard pumps.  Instead, we were now sitting in front of her new boyfriend’s apartment building, her ‘65 Chevy convertible parked behind his truck.   She was eyeing it dangerously. 

“He told me he really prefers blonds.” 

She threw the remark at me sideways, scrunching down low in the driver’s seat as I held the can of paint.  It felt more like a grenade.  Her cooing cooled-turned drill sergeant, and a lock of spite colored hair shadowed her face.  “I don’t care what you write, just make it good,” and then she pinned on a final “Pretty please.”

I didn’t like the way this evening was shaping up.  Not one little bit. 

“Why should I?” 

“Well,” her voice was back to cooing.  “For starters, with the way I look, I stick out like a sore thumb.  If somebody sees us, they’ll remember me.  And also, because if you don’t, you have to walk home.” 

She wasn’t kidding. 

My stilettos hit the moon gray pavement, and I teetered over to the pickup.  I felt sick, but what choice did I have?  And then I had an inspirational moment-one of my best, I might add.  As I pressed the little white spray button down-watching Gold Dust letters monogram green paint-I was the very picture of smug.

RONNIE WAS HERE!!!

So maybe I wasn’t ever going to be noticed.  Not the way Ronnie was.  But then again, I wasn’t going to have to try to hitchhike my way home, either.  And by asking me to do her dirty work for her-Ronnie made the biggest mistake of all.

 

 

 

This is piece was written for this week’s prompt at Write at the Merge.