Chapter 3: Modus Vivendi

I sat down in a back booth and ordered a bowl of red chowder. I was a bit nervous -- confrontation has never been my strong suit -- but something about the quality of this event had brought out my ruthless side. Under normal circumstances I would have been tongue tied around a girl like her. Now I was in charge, and there was nothing that could change that.

She entered the shop about 5 minutes after the final bell would have rung -- I had cut all my afternoon classes too. I was amused to think that she must have hurried indeed to get here so soon after school had let out.

She looked around the shop, but most of the tables were empty. It was primarily a lunch and dinner place, and I knew it would be pretty empty for at least two hours.

She finally spotted me, and I held my camera up and winked. I could not tell if she recognized me, but I doubt it. She'd done such a good job of ignoring me, I doubted she was even sure that I went to her school. She strode up purposefully and sat down angrily in my booth, facing me.

"Are you the guy who left those pictures?" Her voice was a furious whisper, but there was a lot of fear there. The anger was clearly intended to give her courage and perhaps bully me into giving in. No chance...

I smiled. "Photography is my life, 'Annie.' Of course, I don't usually take those kinds of pictures... "

"Sure!" she spat. "I'll bet you creep all night long spying on people like that, you pervert!"

"I'm a pervert? Maybe you better look at those snapshots again."

"Oh, fuck off!" Her voice was a high, nervous squeak.

"Take care, now, Annie. You don't want to get on my bad side, now DO YOU?" I pointed my finger at her and stared her down.

She looked at me with a stunned horror. Our voices were low, but I imagine no one (except maybe Bill Arnold) had ever talked to her in such a tone, especially no one from the great unwashed masses, like me. She was beginning to realize that I had her and I knew it.

She looked down at her expensive leather shoes. "Um, no. I guess I don't. OK, OK, I'm sorry." She was silent for a moment. "What is this all about?"

"That's better. Now, I have the negatives to those photos and I can make all the prints I want. What can you offer me to make it worth my while not to do that? I mean, imagine how fun it would be to see a fucking little princess like you get dragged through the shit." She looked up at this, her eyes sad and shocked, but her face as lovely as always. "If I'm going to deny myself that pleasure, I have to have something to replace it."

"What kind of something?" Her voice was a whisper, her eyes locked onto mine.

"A better something. Something very, very pleasant. Something like you gave Bill Arnold."

She bit her lip and shook her head.

"Something even better, perhaps." I smiled the smile of the cat who ate the canary.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then suddenly opened them and smiled. The smile was the sort of familiar, cozy smile she usually reserved for her fellow elite, and she beamed it at me with all the energy she could muster. "Oh, come on, be a sweetheart. You saw what that slime made me do. Haven't I been through enough? Besides, you look like a nice guy -- you don't want it like that, you know, forcing me to, do you?"