The Ginger is not an easy nut to crack, but at least I know this going in. I am fairly sure she hates me like poison, but I am not sure why.
I learned not to ask on that one long ago.
I once had a coworker that began trying to get the boss to fire me on my second day. I hadn’t even spoken to the girl.
When she took another job two years later, she said bye to the two owners, ignored me and left.
Immediately, one of the owners turned to me and said he had been waiting two years to ask me what the hell I did to that girl to generate that kind of hatred.
Still, no clue.
Could be that whole asshole thing, once again. I swear, its like some sort of Karmic herpes that I can’t seem to shake.
It would figure that I am the one guy karma is going to hold to a standard.
Anyway, we were talking about the Ginger.
The reason I need her to talk to me is that she is the twenty something sort-of girlfriend of an older gentleman named Ronaldo who’s son committed a whole bunch of crimes. Right in the middle of the son trying to negotiate a plea bargain, Ronaldo moved to Chicago to be with an old friend of his deceased wife that he has fallen for.
And on the day that he left, I found out that there was a rather unexplained relationship with the Ginger.
Do you see where this is going?
The Ginger knows the updates on Ronaldo’s son. She also is the only one who can shed any light on whether or not she was sleeping with a man old enough to be her grandfather?
I am that kind of rotten that I want to pry into someone elses REALLY personal business.
So it all comes down to her.
I am sitting at the table closest to the the Cream and Sugar kiosk.
I am on a stake out.
I have been strategically sitting here whenever possible, ever since Ronaldo left.
And today it paid off.
At first I hadn’t even realized that she was there. The folks at Starbucks scurry around at high speed at all times and the Ginger is rarely the one out front. She plays cashier and Barrista mostly.
But there she was, changing the garbage.
I held my breath, like a doe had entered the meadow and I didn’t want to frighten her.
How to talk to her was a serious thing. I needed to break her dislike of me and possibly give in to some info dispersing.
Well, she doesn’t like me, but she seemed to care for Ronaldo.
“Have you heard anything from Ronaldo?”
I pitched my voice soft and gentle. I didn’t want her to think I was asking about her relationship.
I do sneaky well.
She turned and I almost waited for her eyes to turn hard.
She smiled a bit.
“He’s good.” She brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. “He’s getting settled into his place.”
I decided to play my hole card. I went all in.
“I miss him…we were kind of friends.”
She tilted her head to the side.
She smiled at me. I am not kidding.
I went for broke.
I leaned in. It was one of those moves that forces the other person to reciprocate. Its like yawning.
I lowered my voice.
“What’s the word with his son?”
She looked around out of reflex. She leaned in.
I am in a full ass clench in anticipation.
AND THE GODDAM MANAGER ASKED HER TO CHECK SOMETHING IN THE BACK.
She nodded at me and took off.
Are you kidding me?