Taken By The Bull

Dawn slipped a cigarette from the packet with a well-practiced motion. “He was sweet. Ran in the track team, wrote poetry. We were prom King and Queen two years running, you know.”

Of course you were. “So it’s safe to say, he was popular, then?”

“Oh, of course. Do I look like the type to date a weirdo?” Dawn smiled as she clicked the lighter and raised the flame to the cigarette tip; so focused on the task at hand that she never saw the shadow that passed over Staci’s expression. “Steve’s always been the sort of guy who has time for anyone. Even total losers.”

Staci wondered if that was another thinly-veiled insult. Glancing down at the voice recorder at her elbow, she drew a slow, deep breath; that little silver device was an excellent reminder as to why she was really here – and it wasn’t to talk about how ohmygawsh amazing Steve was, what a cute couple he and Dawn made. Or rather, she thought, used to make.

“Have you any interesting anecdotes you could share with me?” Slowly she brushed a fingertip around the edge of her coffee-cup; had that request been phrased a little bluntly, was it too abrupt a transition? Of course, she couldn’t hope for Dawn to look up and tell her all about this clever way that Steve had found to swing the odds in his favor in the rodeo ring, but still…

“Well. Let me see.” With a swift and precise motion of her fingers the blonde tapped her cigarette into the ashtray, gray dust and tiny embers falling into the clean white porcelain. “There was this girl… What was her name, now? Shannon? Shawna? Oh, I can’t remember. Dumpy short little thing, frizzy hair. Anyway, she was always hanging around Steve. Writing him letters, showing up at his house – it was sad, really. And the whole time he was never anything but nice to her.”

Where is she going with this…? “What happened?”

“Oh, not much. She threw her toys from the pram and left school over it.” Dawn shrugged, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. “It would have been better for everyone if Steve had told her he wasn’t interested, but he was so keen on being the nice guy and not judging anyone – he just never said a word about it. A real nice guy, Steve. But he didn’t always know when to stop being nice.”

“Okay.” Staci frowned, one hand wandering to her hair in an absent manner, checking that it was still pinned neatly in place. “That wasn’t quite the kind of anecdote I had in mind-”

“Well, it was the kind of thing I had in mind.” Dawn leaned forward suddenly, her eyes intent, bre*sts pushed forward between her crossed forearms. “Because it proves my point. Steve’ll talk to anyone, be nice to anyone, no matter how little interest he has in them. You get where I’m going with this?”

Oh. I get it, perfectly well. “I’m afraid I don’t,” Staci replied smoothly, meeting Dawn’s cold stare. “And it’s hardly relevant.”

“He doesn’t like you. You’re not his type.” The blonde woman sat back, lips pulled up from her teeth in an unconscious expression of distaste. “So don’t be thinking that just because he’s a sweetheart to you, that it means anything. Because it doesn’t!”

“Really, huh?” And before she could stop herself, before she could remind herself that she was a reporter, that this was all about gathering information and not about winning some pointless battle, the words just… Slipped out. “He didn’t say nothing about me not being my type when he kissed me, last night.”

Dawn’s jaw clenched; she took a single deep drag on her cigarette and then stubbed it sharply out in the ashtray, grinding the slim cylinder of tobacco and paper into a twisted mess. “Like I said before. He’ll spend time with just about any loser.”

That the best you got? Really? “Well, this has been a lovely afternoon, Miss Ashleigh.” Holding her bag open with one hand on preparation to leave, she picked up the voice recorder in the other – she had no intention of picking up the bill, however. Dawn’s ‘daddy’ could handle that. “Of course, my viewers won’t be interested in small-talk about past relationships, so I don’t think any of this will make it into the final feature, but still – thank you for your time.”

“What about current relationships?” Dawn’s eyebrows pulled together as she shot a look of absolute loathing in Staci’s direction, pulling another cigarette from the packet with a stabbing gesture of the fingertips. “Or maybe, your bosses will be more interested in such things. A breach of ethics, isn’t that what you might call it?”

Staci’s eyebrows raised slightly, and she paused. “If I was reviewing a book or movie Steve had made, maybe.” In one swift move Staci was up on her feet, slipping the strap of her bag back over her shoulder with what she hoped was an air of authority. “Or if I was his doctor. Neither of those things are true, but – good luck causing trouble, if that’s your goal. It won’t get you far, but you strike me as the type to wallow in a little melodrama. So, knock yourself out.”

“I’m not the one looking to cause trouble. Am I?” Sitting back, Dawn took another draw of her cigarette, smoke filtering out along with her next words. “It’s a good thing for you, that you’ll be back in that crime-infested multicultural hellhole you call a city before anyone even has time to miss you. So, you go run your pudgy ass back to your hotel like a good little girl and get packed up. Because the only story you’ll be finding here, is the tale of a sad city girl trying to claw her way out of the mud, chasing a man who’s way out of her league – and nobody cares about a story like that.”

Staci took a slow deep breath, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. A part of her wanted to wrench it off, twirl it around her head like a bolero, and smack it right into the middle of Dawn’s Model’s Own face; but a greater part of her felt only pity. “If you don’t mind me saying, Miss Ashleigh – it’d be best if you moved on with your life. It’s… Not healthy to focus on past relationships so much.”

“It’s just a little bump in the road, is all.” The blonde woman waved it off with a diffident gesture of her fingers. “He’ll be back. And if you don’t mind me saying – it won’t be ‘healthy’ for someone like you, to get in our way. So, pack up. And begone.”

‘Begone’? Who says that, who actually says that! “Oh, I have no time for that, Miss Ashleigh.” Staci replied, quick and airy. “I’m having dinner tonight with Steve. But enjoy your evening, why don’t you?”

She turned and walked away with a quick step before Dawn could reply, and as she went she couldn’t help but think; and you’re right, you can tell a lot about a person by what coffee they drink. And you’re as bitter and shallow as that espresso.

*****

Finally back in her hotel room, she stripped off the rigid confines of the fitted shirt and pencil skirt and slipped gratefully into an over-sized plaid shirt, legs bare beneath the hem. With a sigh she laid back on the bed, one hand running over the soft curve of her stomach as she considered what she should do next.

No big surprise really, that I didn’t get anything useful out of Dawn. Except maybe, a life-long enemy. Even in such loose clothing, the temperature in the little room was cloying. So, what now? I guess I could organize my notes. Get something – anything! – of substance, to report back to Mr Midas. He was good enough to lay on a rental car for me; I should at least call up and thank him. He knows I hate taking cabs… He’s such a sweet man.