Hermes Borse Andato

It was a Tuesday, she remembered. The day was hot and it had only gotten worse through the course of the last few weeks. She looked skyward through her dark shades as she put her hand to her hairline and became lost in thought. Man, I'm gonna burn. Why does it have to get so hot anyways? She looked to the driver. His brow peered over his brown, aviator sunglasses and he perked an eyebrow at her with the corner of his eye before he looked back to the road ahead of them. His lime-green button-down shirt unbuttoned and his blue jeans covering rustic, dirty converse high top shoes projected the taste of a child. Oh, but he's so much more the man. She thought as she let her eyes wander up and down to him. His black hair blew in the wind of their 1957 Chevy convertible as he leaned his head back, letting his eyes look over his nose towards the empty road. The future is the oyster of clams…
It was that Tuesday that all of it began. Mckale and she had met in a Canadian bar on that day. He had walked over to her,radii for sale, wondering what her favorite color was. She had never been one to be rude and so she had answered that her favorite color was dark red.
"Oh, fine choice, my lady. It taste of strawberries soaked in dew." Mckale had said as he kissed the palm of her hand. An odd thing to do, since it was customary, yet rarely practiced at all, to kiss the back of a girl's hand when pretending to be smooth. This oddity was chocked up to the trip that he was obviously on and so she took him with stride. He continued, "Oh, but soft my lady, forgive me with great effect," He knelt down to his knee a moment before jumping up and looking around awkwardly. "Who am I?"
"I'm afraid I don't know-" He cut her off.
"EXACTLY! That be the problem. My name is Mckale Marizio. I am the son of Mandragio Marizio and the grandson of Marcorious Marizio. Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner to a luscious beauty such as yourself." Mckale said as he dropped to his knees and pulling her hand to his right breast, where he apparently believed that his heart lay.
"Oh, my goodness. It's fine really…I mean, get up, won't you?" She said.
"Oh fair lady, you do me kind to be so forgiving." As he spoke, she noticed a peculiar thing out of her peripheral vision. She focused on it to see a man behind Mckale, lifting a chair above his head, preparing to swing openly at Mckale.
"Oh, look out!" She called to Mckale just in time for him to turn around and get the blunter part of the bludgeon to the face. He turned, slightly as his eyes rolled in back of his head.
"Thank you, fair lady" He said, nearly inaudible as he dropped cruelly to the ground. The man who had picked up the chair began to walk towards his, now unconscious, prey and she was able to recollect her thoughts in time to realize he was a very large man and it would be irrational to stick up for this tripped out bar hound.
"Don't touch him! I mean,Solid polo shirts, please don't hurt him anymore, sir?" She found the words flowing from her mouth against all sane thought. What am I doing? She remembered thinking.
But it had been the right thing to do, she had decided. The duo had met and felt an instant bond, for whatever reason, she didn't care. They were passing down into Wisconsin from Michigan and making their way west. Just like before she thought. They had nothing but cash to their name, making no expense of exceeding the necessities that they already carried on their backs. Clothes and a toothbrush is really the only way to travel… She thought, as she looked skyward. The sun had hidden amongst the clouds and she found herself begin to get sleepy. She slipped into a car ride slumber as she meandered back into deep thought.
"I'm terribly sorry miss, but I've got to take him to my boss. He's got it coming." The large man said with a barely noticeable accent, it had a slur to it with punctuated endings making it sound similar to Russian.
"Tell me what he's done." Though normally meek, she found herself fearless in the name of this man, who had disturbingly kissed the palm of her hand. She knelt down next to him, making sure he was still beating regularly. As she neared, she found a nasally sound filling her ears and she realized that Mckale was snoring.
"You'd be better off just forgetting him, trust me. He's no good." The large man knelt down next to her as he picked Mckale up and slung him over a shoulder. He stood up with ease and said, "he'll be just as good as dead tomorrow anyways, no use worrying your pretty little mug over it." She looked after him a few beats and then bravely walked after him and touching her hand to his free shoulder.
"No, please,polo shirts, I want to know." It was strange, this curiosity that was burning a whole through all reason in her, it was near empowering. The large man sighed and turned towards her.
"Ok, its rather simple. He has a large debt that he's neglected to pay for the past six months. After time and time again of extensions, all he's managed to do is out run everyone that's ever been sent after him- but not me, you got me?" The man looked down to her with intimidation. She nodded, dodging a gulp of pressure.
"Oh…how much?" She could barely realize that she was asking, as if she could do something about it.
"Oh no. Not you ma'am. Not with this…idiot. Just walk away, it's better that way."
"No, tell me. Maybe we can work a deal. Or maybe I can pay?" She said as she gaily batted her eyes. He cannot be buying this… She thought.
"I told you ma'am,air jordan flight team, he's an idiot. He's too rich for your blood- and his." She may not be able to help but she could at least talk business long enough for Mckale to come to.
"Look, stop talking in circles, please. It's not helping either of us." She said, strangely assertive.
" Fine, Miss." The large man took an oddly feminine and snotty tone, " He owes five hundred in bar tabs. He's got an under wire market pulling a chain of two grand and he's got a thirty percent interest on both. Adding up to a grand total of three thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars. Now if you'll kindly excuse me, I've got to deliver an idiot to a very important man." The large man turned away from her as she took in everything he said. $3250? That's ridiculous… she thought. But there's something about him that just, oh, I don't know. She watched the large man carry Mckale out until he was out of sight and then she took to a sprint. She reached the door to see the large man flinging Mckale into a Cadillac like a suitcase.
"Wait. Stop!" The words flew from her mouth in familiar tone. " I-I'll pay." She said, and if it weren't for the stutter, she might have sounded sure.
She came to just in time to see the "Welcome to Iowa" sign that they passed. She jumped alert and looked around in alarm to be quieted as she saw that Mckale was driving, the top was up and it had begun to storm. She looked at him as he leaned forward to turn the oldies station that they were listening to that was playing Beach Boys.
"It's alright, you're safe. No need to worry, angel drawers" Mckale said, reaching over to her and comfortingly touching her shoulder. He shattered the tender moment by moving his hand down slightly and lightly squeezing her left breast. What couth. She thought. He winked at her a moment and then continued to look at the road. Lightning crashed and she found herself oddly comforted. She laid her head on the seat and leaned her seat back to look up at the top. It was painted with an image of a cloudy sky and it was fun for her to imagine that the storm was just inside the car. She glanced at Mckale to see him running his hand through his hair and cracking his neck. Hollow barbaric tricks, she thought as she cracked her neck too. She lay her head back again to regain an intense stare at the faux clouds.
After signing a check for the poor, unconscious Mckale, she found herself asking the large man to bring him to her room at a nearby hotel. They lay the unconscious charge down on the fold out couch and she bid the large man a polite goodbye. Great, when he comes to, he'll probably think I'm some type of stalker or something, she thought as she pat his jaw with a rag filled with ice. It had begun to swell and she hoped to calm it before he woke up. As the ice cold rag touched him he jolted awake and gulped in fear. He dug down in his pocket for something and brought it to his mouth and kissed it.
"Are you the angel of death? Oh, I repent. Benedicalo, la madre mary. Ho faccia il crimine. Perdonilo e sarò la vostra carica per tutta la vita eternal ed in futuro. Perdonilo, madre vergine! Risparmilo, madre vergine! Perdonilo, madre vergine! Risparmilo, madre vergine!" Mckale spouted desparately as he rubbed the rosary in his hand and kissed her hands in hope.
"Calm down, Mckale. I'm not the Angel of death, I swear. Please just calm down!" She said in a mothering tone as she took his hands and rubbed them comfortingly. Mckale took his hands back and jumped up quickly, looking around nervously.
"Then who are you? Did Mika send you? Look, just tell him I'll get him the money, he's just gotta be patient. These things can't be rushed you know!" He began to pace, waving his hands sporadically while he talked to himself.
"Who's Mika? What money?" She asked curiously. Mckale itched his arm rapidly and then jumped on the couch next to her, pressing closely against her and waving a finger in her face.
"Don't play your mind games on me, little girl! I know you work for Mika, I won't be played. What money, HA! How about the $3200 I owe him,tiffany Ohrring, huh? What about that?" Mckale looked around for a way out and he jumped at the door.
"Actually, it was $3250 but no worries, it's already paid for." She said and Mckale stopped in his tracks.
"By whom?" He turned his head to look at her peripherally as he perked a brow.
"Me." She said as she looked at him. He dropped to his knees and scooted over to her.
"Oh, I remember you now, fair lady?" Mckale asked unsure a moment, she nodded and he exploded. "Il mio angelo di luce! Lo avete conservato. Molti ringraziamenti su voi e su il vostro. Sono per sempre obbligato! How will I ever repay such a kind and beautiful woman? Oh, but light, who is she that saved me?"
"They call me Aubrey." She said, dodging the question.
"No, I must know my Angel's full name- tell me now" Mckale said as he stared straight into her eyes. She sighed. Very well, she thought.
"My name is Olivie Aubrey-Chrysler Brielleman." She looked away with awkward eyes. She hated her name and would just as soon be called anything else.
"Olive, a beautiful color against the right background. Aubrey, it's old fashioned but I like it. Chrysler, a fine, loyal car, if I do say so myself. May I call you either?" He asked politely with his Italian accent thick.
"I guess, just not Olivie, I hate that name." She said as she looked into the dark eyes of the lovely man in front of her.
" Then I shall call you Chrysler, forgive me, but I do enjoy a fine car." He started as he stood up and began to pace again, this time it was more relaxed. "Well, my dear Chrysler, I'm afraid we are faced with a dilemma."
"Oh? What is it?" She was genuinely concerned and was wondering in the back of her mind whether or not she had made a mistake.
"Well, you see, Signora Chrysler, I am your charge from here on out. You saved my life and paid my debts and so, I am forever yours to do whatever you wish. And so, you see the dilemma, yes?" Mckale asked and Chrysler shook her head. She didn't find the fact that this beautiful man was pledging his life to her appealing, but perhaps that was because she didn't believe he'd keep it. He probably just wants to get into my pants and then he'll leave, like they all do. She thought, sadly. "Oh, of course! I didn't get to the problem yet. Silly me. You see, I have to get home but I cannot leave you if I am indebted to you, you see the dilemma now, Angelo quello me possedere?" She nodded and thought, I guess my pants aren't even worth the effort. And what does he keep calling me?
"Well, I'll be sorry to see you go. You'll be sor-" She began.
"Oh, fair Chrysler, you do me well. But we both know that this is not the case. We must go together and with the wings of my Angel, we shall be triumphant!" He stood then, looking at his fists and then realized where he was. He looked around a couple times before continuing. "Come, I shall help you pack." With that, he ran to the dressers and began raiding it and shoving it into a nearby suitcase.
"Wait, what? No. no. no. I can't- that's just silly. I mean, what will I tell my aunt? She'll flip if I don't come back to her. I'm sorry, I can't go with you." Chrysler began to get hysterical. Mckale turned and noticed. He dropped the clothes and suitcase and walked over to her and hugged her.
"Oh, there, there,Hermes Borse, mia Biancheria di angelo, it'll be just-" He tried.
"What do you call me?" She asked, suddenly curious.
"Why, Angel drawers, no need to fret now. Come away, you can meet my family. You can call your parents when we get there."
"My aunt." Chrysler corrected him.
"Oh, what happened to your parents, donna bella?" Mckale asked, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a look of concern.
"My mother was a whore and died of aids. My father's a drunk."
"Now, that's no way to talk of the man who raised you. In Italy, everyone drinks." Mckale said.
"He named me after his car. It was a green Chrysler- Olivie, get it?" Chrysler said, cynical and irritated.
"Very well, your Aunt. You can call her when we get there."
Chrysler sat upright in the seat and looked around. They were surrounded by farmland that stretched for what seemed like forever in front of them. We must still be in Iowa. She thought as she looked at some grazing cows on the left. Her eyes wandered to the driver. Mckale's hair was a mess from him running his hands through it so often. His glasses were off and it was beginning to become dusk. He looked tired as she looked at him with endearing eyes.
"Pull over, I want to drive." She said and started to unbuckle her seat belt.
"I'm fine, Chrysler, really." Mckale said, knowing full well that he was about to fall asleep at the wheel.
"Nobody said you weren't. I just want to, so pull over, won't you?" She said as she put her hand on his thigh. He led the car to a halt at the shoulder and put it into park. The two got out and changed positions. Chrysler saddled into the driver's seat with a leg under her. The old cars don't have seat adjustments, you either fit or you don't.
What had made me start this in the first place? I remember meeting him and I remember paying and him waking up…then…hm. Oh yeah. She thought as she put the car into drive and pressed the gas.
"No, I can't leave here. I'm supposed to be on an internship. I'm only 19, I can't just go off gallivanting around until someone worries about me!"
"Why? What have they ever done for you? They're just screwing you around until you or they die, that's how this world really works. Everybody is just jerking everyone else's chain… all it does is make you late … late for dying young, anyways" Mckale said as he started looking out of the window in a far off stare.
"Who do you think you are? The white rabbit? Turn red and fall down your hole. I can't leave here without any notice." Chrysler was getting angry. Not at Mckale, but instead, herself. She was angry that she couldn't just stop everything and that the things around her held her there.
"Then don't. Leave a message at the desk for anyone who calls for you." With that and a sudden wave of self importance he convinced her… the fact that her brain was already mocking her for not being able to drop everything like this man, Mckale, might have had something to do with it, she realized later. "Come, We have no time to WASTE!" Mckale said as he put the last of her things in a suitcase and bolted down the hall.
Chrysler chased after him and at length, caught up to him. For a smoker, he sure can run, She thought as they reached the service desk. The concierge was facing away to the mailboxes behind the desk and didn't even bother to notice the heavy breathing of the two that stood at the desk. Obnoxiously, after a little waiting, Mckale rang the bell and the concierge turned around. He seemed to be pleased to see Chrysler but as soon as he noticed Mckale next to her, his eyes adjusted to a snooty squint that peered down his nose.
"Yes, can I help you, Madame?" the concierge asked. Mckale answered him back.
"Yes, excuse me. This young woman would like to leave a message for anyone that may like to call her from now on that they'll be able to reach her at this number." Mckale said as he handed the concierge a grimy piece of paper from his pocket. The concierge looked at Mckale snidely and took the paper with utmost care to avoid germs.
"Very well then." The concierge replied in a snooty tone. Mckale took Chrysler by the wrist in one hand and her suit case in the other and they went out the revolving doors.
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