One Star Random Mystery

Author's Note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you don't like it, don't read it. Feel free to anonymously comment with any errors you find, and I will feel free to call you an asshole. Thanks for any votes, feedback, or favorites; Hope you enjoy:

*****

"I feel like I know you." Some aspect of her tugged at his imagination, his memory, something he could not place; or maybe something was missing? He knew this feeling well from a romance past, just not the why, not really.

"You really don't recognize me?" She spoke in pure blank face from behind her slightly downturned sunglasses, not looking at Felix but speaking to him in a whisper, apparently intently studying the organic vegetation.

"Am I supposed to?" Felix looked around. In point of fact, he was one of the few persons in the small market whom did not appear to be whispering, stalking, or gawking, short of the cashiers: both of whom were dealing with credit cards. "Hmm. Maybe I am... Why should I recognize you, then?"

"Don't stare at me!" She was hissing before going back to the whisper: "Just act like we're not talking."

"Oh ...mybad." Felix, intrigued, but not by the lack of chemicals, began absently fingering produce, staring straight ahead. "So why should I recognize you? Are you like Miss Universe or something??"

"Seriously? Think I'm tall enough?" Her speech was quite expressive in spite of the lack of movement and volume. "I'm not going to tell you now, it would ruin it."

"Ruin what?" Felix was terrible at trying to act like he was not doing something he was doing.

"You're terrible at this..."

"At what?" He was really lost, some detail was missing.

"Aren't you hitting on me? I thought we were flirting?" Still staring at the vegetables, her face finally started moving. It moved to 'What the fuck?' and stayed there.

"I thought you were the one hitting on me?"

"You're the one that keeps saying things," She almost spoke at a normal volume that time around.

"...and you're standing there, kind of ignoring me..." Felix couldn't help himself and pointed to her grip compulsively, "...and holding a cucumber. That's a pick up line if y'ask me."

The unidentified woman smiled at that, relighting the place greater than the sunny day through the windows; some of the gawkers and stalkers gasp, Felix almost dropped his basket. "It's Misses." The woman reached into her purse while dropping the phallic shaped food into the cart, quite stealthily, and removed something from her purse, equally as stealthily, and then placed it in between the cucumbers still on the shelf - also stealthily; a small white card as it appeared to be. "...and you're the one who's massaging the peppers." She flicked her shining eyes at his action and then she pushed her cart along the way.

Felix was on his way out, the woman on her way in.

He did not look at the card he pocketed, nor the cucumber he was not going to eat, until he got into his car. The simple card had a phone number and the words "leave a message" embossed in glossy black; the other side was blank. He still had no idea whom she was or who she could be. He thought for a moment, but only a moment, about walking up to the photographers waiting outside of the market.

"Where's the fun in that?" He spoke aloud as he started the giant old heap that didn't aesthetically fit him, patting the cracked dash and rubbing as it rolled over running. "Good ol' girl." At least the car didn't smell.

***

The guys, David and Alex, were rattling off names. They had been all week. "I should never have told you dickheads." Felix knew very few of them.

"Doesn't matter, dude. I've been all over the Internet, and like, do you even know how many famous people go to the store and have their picture taken?" David was a bit of a stoner, and much younger than Felix or Alex, but he worked hard.

"A lot?" Even if the answer had not been obvious, Felix had already done the same thing; he should have asked the hounds with the cameras at the time. He had had enough of the taunts, and had decided that, for all these two knew, it didn't matter anymore and it was in his past forever. The pair just wouldn't let it go, though, and Felix couldn't push her out of his mind, the memory seemed to made of rubber.

"Exactly, and they all wear giant sunglasses and hooded sweatshirts, even in this weather. I could only narrow it down by hair, but they change that shit like once a week." David blew the perspiration off of his lips as he spoke, pausing in his raking while Felix dumped the wheel barrel of three-quarter stone. It was overcast and sticky, about to rain as it had been for days, and sweat poured off of all three men as they finished off the small pathway that connected to a much larger series of pathways; fifteen or so tons of stone, by hand, for the day. It was their third and final day at the jobsite. "Next time can we bulldoze the house and use a Bobcat?" David was almost serious.

"It doesn't matter anyway, I already told you both she was married." Felix wiped the sweat from his face with bottom of his shirt, taking a pause.

"Maybe she marry a homo? Marriage... is... is no what it used to be." It was Alex and his thick accent that chimed in from the bed of the truck. Maybe Felix's best friend in the world and business partner, Alex was still his opposite when it came to women; Alex was a slut in every sense of the word. "You no know, you no even call her. They always have husband and boyfriend. What? You worried she want fuck you?"

"You fucking Europeans." Felix made a frumpy face, Alex in turn to the comment, threw a rock at him.. "I just don't do things like that, I have morals."

"How you know? Hmm? Poo-see... How you know? What if she forget you now?"

Felix had made it back to the truck with the wheel barrel, ignoring David's cackles. "Just fill this thing half way. I wanna get away from you two." It was late in the afternoon, they were almost done, it was Friday, and it had started spitting raindrops randomly. "I hope she did forget me, saves me the trouble." Felix was a terrible liar, he had stared at the card night after night, seemingly in endless debate over simple words.

Alex went right to work before the instructions; he knew what he was doing. Mostly he was grumbling in a foreign language as he worked, almost jealous or angry and spacing it with "poo-see" before snapping back: "See a woman like that... She came onto you, to you. You make sure you find out a what she want." Finished with the shoveling he hopped out of the bed of the truck, closing the gate when he landed. "You find out like I find out what she want, and her too," and then he raised his voice, aiming it away from Felix: "'ello ladies! How are you!"

He received quite the response. Alex was aiming his voice to a group of neighborhood women absently talking in view of the workers, for some reason. For three days, and for some reason, the women had been staring. Alex took off his gloves and shoved them into his back pocket, then took off his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his body before tossing it into the open door of the pick-up cab, followed by the grabbing of a handful of business cards from the door pocket. "You got a pen?"

"Yeah, should be on the clipboard." Potential jealousy aside, Alex had made a valid point in the conversation even though he still did think it was cool to give people two pointing thumbs up.

"Be right back homey." Alex pulled a lifeguard-show style jog to introduce himself to the neighborhood watch.

***

The sun had gone down and the rain had stopped, but the clouds' lament remained, hanging low and causing the world to remain moist and, quite literally, steamy. It was the same outside as it was inside Felix's bathroom after his shower, which he had just left.

He walked to his fridge, towel around his waist, and snatched the card and the phone, instantly dialing the number of infamy. It did not ring, but went straight to messaging. "Hello, Miss Universe, what's the deal with your husband?" He left his number and hung up the phone.

He put the card back onto the fridge, swapping it for the magnetic bottle opener, and grabbed himself a beer. The windows were open but the shades were down, and his ceiling fans were spinning slow.

He never turned on the lights, nor the air conditioning, preferring to rough it with the natural atmosphere.

Still in the towel, Felix took the condensing beer, and the phone wet from his hair, and made his way through the clean, orderly, and quiet apartment to the living room. Simple used furniture dotted the old carpet and old rugs, and bad album covers in picture frames were used as decoration.

As he settled, wet and dripping, onto the couch, beer in one hand, the phone rang as he was about to set it down and grab the Television remote. The ID said it was the same number as he previously last dialed, but there was no name information. Felix answered the phone, but said nothing, because he never had a chance, somehow she knew.

"Think of it like an arranged marriage. We also have an arrangement." She still seemed to be whispering, even over the phone.

"So how do I fit into your arrangement?" Felix was thinking of punching Alex for his intuition.

"You still don't know who I am, do you?" Felix could almost feel her smile over the phone, had he been holding a shopping basket, he might have almost dropped it again. Good thing the beer rested on his knee.

"Nope, but then you don't know who I am, either."

"Yes I do know who you are, Felix Romaro, I also know where you live, and I know that you shop without a list, so you're single."

"Well hey now..."

"You should have used a burn phone, Felix."

"I don't believe in the concept of cell phones."

"At least you eat your vegetables."

"Not cucumbers. So what are you wearing?" He didn't know what else to say, almost as if saying nothing was the better answer.

"Ten or twenty thousand dollars in clothes and twice that in jewelry. I have to go out tonight. What are you wearing?"

"A towel and some water." She whistled over the phone to his words.

"Look, this is fun, but I have to go. I'll call you late, don't fall asleep." Her tone went dismissive, as if Felix was worth very little all of the sudden.

"Wait! wait..." Felix wasn't done.

"Hmm?" Some women can make sounds sexy, this woman could.

"Why does it feel like you are in my head?" He could see her in her clothes, picture her actions as she spoke, see the giant well decorated room she stood in with the car waiting out the window, and quite frankly, it was driving him mad.

"Maybe I am?" The phone clicked immediately after, the image in his head fading.

Felix dropped the phone at his side and took a sip of his beer. Still in the dark and on the couch, he let out a long slow whistle before picking up the remote and scanning all of the channels for an awards show announcement, he even tried those celebrity news shows.

He thought of looking at the paper, just to double check, but it was all the way on the kitchen counter, and that most definitely seemed like a lot of work.

Finding nothing to link her to, he settled on a documentary of the Earth's magnetic field, finding it appealing and ever so slightly coincidental. Every now and then, though, an image of a seated crowd at tables or legs clad in a sparkling pearl dress filled his mind, mostly during commercials. Felix didn't feel much like eating, but his dream began with crystal tableware.

He never finished his beer, either.

***

Out of character to himself and against her request, Felix had fallen asleep. He was not a big-time heavy sleeper. For some reason, and for some reason, he was extremely comfortable sitting in a damp towel on his couch with a clear mind after a days work - but that wasn't it. What made him drift into dreamland was more that his brain felt silent enough to put bubbles in a bathtub. He was dreaming of under-sheet kisses when the phone rang.

Once again, he was given no opportunity for greetings: "You fell asleep, didn't you?"

"You have no basis of proof for that. By the way, what time is it? I fell asleep."

"It's raining," still, she spoke in a whisper; Felix was beginning to think maybe she had an accent she was hiding.

"Is that what that is?" Truthfully, he was not being sarcastic, his brain was slightly sleep-fogged.

"You sound sexy when you wake up."

"You've sounded sexy all along. So are you like a secret agent or just a pageant queen?"

"You should've seen my dress tonight, I bet that towel you have on covered more."

"Was it sparkling pearl?" It's not like he had anything to lose.

"Now how did you know that?"

"Coincidentally. Did you have a matching purse, giant shiny bracelets? Was there a lady in red with a great rack across the table?" The image had stuck in his mind to go with some kind of fancy silverware.

"You saw me on TV didn't you?"

"Nope, still have no idea who you are, plus don't they pre-tape that stuff? I'd prefer to lean towards espionage, you know, because it would be neat to play with those gadgets you have."

"Maybe I don't know who you are?" The phone clicked, she had hung up.

"Hmm..." Felix uttered before sipping his warm beer and coming to the conclusion it was time to put some pants on. He threw on, instead, a pair of cargo shorts, using a shoelace as a drawstring in the front two belt-loops. Shortly after, he found a plain and blank and slightly tight and slightly worn tee in classic white, luckily it was clean. He never brushed his almost shaggy hair, only his teeth, before stretching his way back to the couch to finish his beer with a mouth full of toothpaste flavor.

The phone rang after the first 'yuk' face; it was her, again.

"So why do you have that crappy job."

"It's not crappy, it's real. Why are you always whispering? Are the bad guys chasing you?"

"It is crappy, you have no money."

"Neither you nor your allies in the federal government have any basis of proof for that."

"Then what's with the car?"

"It's a classic."

"Then fix it?"

"It's not broken all the way."

"Then what's with the deserted neighborhood and crappy apartment? Your test scores in school are off the charts. Perfect everything and then you just quit college your sophomore year and disappear? I don't get it."

"Waste not, want not? Did you notice, as you were stealing my identity, that I have no debt?"

"Don't rush me, I just got your credit report. You don't even have points on your license. No police record of any kind. Have you ever been fingerprinted?"

"This is weird. How or why are you doing this?"

"Consequence of celebrity."

"I'll work with that, and nope, I haven't. Do you have one of those things that cuts circles in glass? The kind with the suction cup?" Felix felt naked again even though he was making bad jokes.

"Then what is it?" Her words felt sad.

"It's very easy to get good grades. Maybe I don't want to ruin it for everyone else? Do you have one of those tight leather outfits with the utility belt?"

"Did you have a trauma or something?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"You must be lonely. What color are my eyes?" For some reason his eyes had started watering; Felix wasn't crying but the idea of it was in his thoughts.

"Bright?" He honestly could not remember.

"What about my hair? My shirt? The shopping basket you held?"

Those things he could remember with clarity; his reply was simple: "Shit."

"I bet it's all my noise." She hung up on him, again, leaving Felix almost uncontrollably turned on and confused in the streetlight-lit room.

He dialed back, straight to voicemail; he left a message. "For the record, I would like to state that there is a difference between lonely and alone and waiting."

Felix crawled off to his unmade bed, still in his cargo shorts and t-shirt. A few minutes later, when, for some reason, he thought of the message he had left and all of the other things he could have said, it brought that silence to his head, again, and as easily as before, he fell right to sleep.

***

Waking with a fright would be the best way to describe it. It was another overcast day, lighting Felix's bedroom in a gray way, but still lit morning-wise. He sat on his bed, between sleep and awake, trying to discern reality from the dream he had been pulled from. The dream had been important, something about second meetings with lost loves, but the more he tried to think of who they were, the more the mystery woman pushed them aside.

One thought rose above all of the others: Warm beverage.

"Coffee." Crawling out of the comfort, slightly sore and stiff as working men are, he stumbled his way to the coffee pot. As he prepared the brew, he thought of the mystery woman some more: Beans in the grinder, mystery woman; grounds in the filter, mystery woman; water in the pot, mystery woman. When he clicked the 'On' switch, the phone rang. The timing was impeccable, like someone planned it.

"Are you going to use the sexy voice?"

"You know on one of these phone calls you're going to have to let me say hello."

"I might let you do a lot of things since you're letting me look through your computer."

The sound he had not yet contemplated made much more sense when he turned his agape'd gaze to the tiny blinking green and yellow lights on his self built spare part technology. He almost dropped the phone; the computer was off last night; he had thought remote boot capability was pure unicorn, and thusfully had never taken the time to look into it in the least. "Why is it that coffee never brews fast enough?" He was cursing himself for not ever turning the surge protector off.

"I drink tea."

"Weirdo."

"The concept is the same. You don't mind this?"

"I guess I can get over it, I mean, it's only tea." She let out a 'tsk' sound to that one to spite the cheese.

"Mostly porn on this thing..." She seemed almost sad at the words, still whispering.

"...don't forget the stolen music and movies. I'm also six-one, two-hundred pounds, and I like sunsets and long walks on the beach."

"You don't have any of mine."

"Music... or movies...?" The concept that she might have been in a porn film creeper'd in after the fact.

"You wish. Where's the good stuff?"

"The porn? ...or? Isn't the copyright infringement good leverage for political homicide?" She let out another 'tsk' sound while Felix was rubbing his eyes, trying hard to wake up. "Find the lost folder." Felix leaned on the counter next brew machine; his hair was wild, his shirt wrinkled, his shorts hanging off of his hips with a huge tent in the front. He 'chose' not to move a muscle for anything but the phone until the coffee was finished, formulating the steps to track the Internet Protocol number she was using for access.

Mostly he just rubbed his eyes. "Oh I get it, lost. That's cute. Why haven't you filed income on your tax forms in... 10 years?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" This was shaping up to be an interesting day, and Felix no longer cared if she was famous.

"...and what's this, oh my, you've written about some girls."

"Don't we all."

"Journal?"

"Maybe, you have no basis of proof for that."

"They're titled by date in a folder called journal and separated by years."

"That could be anything. It's partly an old computer."

"Do you have any photos of people that aren't naked?"

"Sure."

"Where?"

"In my head." Felix almost added a 'duh' but held back with years of conditioning.

"What if you forget?"

Felix started laughing, loud and hard. He then hung up the phone, more because the coffee was done than to show her just how annoying it was to have such a thing happen. He took his mug and staggered to his desk to turn on the monitor and track someone down.