Advanced Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Rosalee had ninja skills. Advanced ninja skills. She liked to use
that term to describe herself. It was a term that young people used that was
supposed to carry some extra meaning, but could really be interpreted to mean
just about anything the speaker wanted it to. It was the sort of term that
would seem like nonsense five years later and the user would be embarrassed
that they ever used the phrase in the first place. Such was the case of most
slang.
Rosalee used her skills to sneak into parties she wasn’t supposed
to get into. A very handy trick when living the high speed Los Angeles
lifestyle. She announced proudly to her friends that she could make it in
anywhere she wanted to go. So what were her advanced ninja skills really? A
pretty face. A pretty body. Sometimes a smile. Sometimes knowing how to flirt
or how to tell a lie. And sometimes it took other things as well. But she liked
to party with the rich and the famous and the happening, and she had done
nothing in her real life to earn her station, so it took luck, pluck and hustle
to make these things happen.
The girl was twenty-four. She could party like she was seventeen
and give good conversation like she was forty-three. She knew how to assess the
situation and could chameleon herself properly.
There was a band that had been popular when she was a toddler, and
somehow they were popular again now, twenty years later. A wealthy man that
lived in a mansion on a hill was paying them to play at a private birthday
party. She had no connection to the band, the man, or the party. But she found
out about it. This was one of the things she did. She knew how to talk and to
find things out.
She stood in the back yard, admiring the view, looking down over
the city.
“Bright city lights,” said the voice next to her.
She hadn’t realized someone had approached. She had been
distracted. One too many drinks, and the anticipation of the evening, and she
was zoning out a bit.
“Yes they are. They really are.”
“Do I know you?”
She turned to look at him. He looked like he was late thirties or
maybe early forties. He was in good shape, but the wrinkles around his eyes and
his brow couldn’t hide the time that had passed.
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Rosalee.”
Maybe the crowd was too loud or maybe he misheard or maybe he
didn’t care, but he called her Rosie. She corrected him, but he said he’d stick
with Rosie. He said it with a smile, a sardonic, arrogant look that said he was
right even though he was wrong. He was a man of confidence. She liked that.
“You seem anxious.”
“I’m just waiting for the band to play.”
“Aren’t we all? Tell me, who invited you tonight?”
“Why? Is this your place?”
“Actually, it is.”
“I’m no party crasher. I talked to some friends and they talked to
some friends and made things happen. I’ve got ninja skills that way.”
She instantly regretted saying that last part. She realized how
young and foolish it made her seem. He might have noticed it, but he didn’t
hold it against her. He let it slip away into the night, forgotten.
“You’re fine, really. It’s
just when some beautiful blond shows up at my house unannounced, I like to know
who she is.”
“Keep talking. I’ll listen to that all night.”
“How old are you?”
“How old do you want me to be?”
“No, it’s not that sort of game. I just want to make sure you’re
not young enough to be my daughter’s age.”
“I’m not. Trust me.”
“Okay. For now.”
He was forty-one and hadn’t dated anyone so young since he was
that young. He didn’t think it could possibly work, but he also felt it was one
of those opportunities that he couldn’t pass on.
“So you’re having a good time? Enjoying my lovely view.”
“It’s okay.”
“Really? Just okay? There’s a problem.”
“The Hills are fine, but you’re too far away. The action is in
those lights down there. That’s life happening, and you’re so far away.”
“Obviously I can bring the life to me. You’re at my house. You’re
at my party.”
“Obviously you’ve got money and pull. But down there you don’t
have to manufacture it. It’s happening every day, every moment. Down there—“
“The party never stops?”
“Yeah, sort of. Yeah. Down there is excitement and energy and
freedom. Why give that up? That’s how I feel anyway.”
“You like my house. You like my party. You like my view.”
“Yeah.”
“You like me.”
“I might.”
“Might. Well, I’ll have to work on that.”
“Please do.”
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