Chapter 59: Holly Is An Angel
David was ready.
He checked himself once in the mirror by the door — not long, just long enough — and then he left.
The plan had been to walk. He’d half-decided that on the way to getting dressed, the kind of decision you make without really committing to it. Walk the city. See it for the first time properly, ground level, no filter. It sounded like the right thing to do.
He made it to the end of the block before he flagged a cab.
He had the money. Not a lot, but enough that spending some of it didn’t feel reckless. He told himself it was practical. It probably was.
~~~
The cab dropped him on a narrow street in a part of the lower city he hadn’t seen yet.
He paid the fare, got out, and shut the door behind him. The cab pulled away and left him standing on cracked asphalt with the afternoon light coming down grey and flat over a row of low houses that looked like they’d been tired for a long time. Peeling paint. Window frames gone dull. A plastic chair on someone’s porch facing nothing. The kind of street that wasn’t broken — it just wasn’t anything.
’Huh.’
He pulled out his phone. Screen lit up — still the default wallpaper. He clocked it, filed it under later, opened his contacts.
Holly.
He hit call and let it ring, eyes drifting back to the houses while he waited.
Jenny lived on the decent side of the lower city. He’d only seen it once, but he remembered it — proper streetlights, window boxes, her and her mother in a place that looked like people were actually trying. This wasn’t that. He wasn’t judging. He just noticed the gap.
’This better not be a bad idea,’ he thought. Then corrected himself — not a bad idea, specifically. What he meant was: this better pay off. Not Holly. Not exactly, but rather the expected return of his.m.struggle. The type of investment a person makes early and feels later- if you know what he meant.
The line connected on the first ring.
"Hello, David."
"Hey. I’m outside."
A pause. "Outside where?"
He looked at the door in front of him. Small. The whole house was small — cramped even from the street, the kind of place that made you feel guilty just looking at it.
The front wall had a water stain running from the roof down to the foundation like a scar. One of the windows had cardboard where glass should’ve been.
’My place might actually be better than this.’
He didn’t know how to feel about that.
"Your place," he said. "I’m standing in front of your door."
The line went quiet. Then he heard movement on the other end — quick, like she’d stood up fast — and then the door opened.
David lowered the phone.
Holly stood in the doorway.
She was wearing a pale yellow dress, fitted, clean lines, the kind of thing that had no business existing on a street like this one. Hair done. Small earrings catching the light. She looked like she’d gotten dressed for somewhere worth going.
Her eyes went wide the second she saw him.
They dropped to the phone in his hand. Back up to his face. Like she needed the confirmation — yes, same person, yes, this was David — and then her cheeks went pink, fast, the kind of color that doesn’t lie.
"David." Her voice came out different. Slower. "You look — " She stopped. "How did you change so suddenly?"
She was already stepping off the threshold, moving toward him like she couldn’t help it.
David kept his face straight.
"I didn’t change anything," he said. "This is just what I look like. Your desire for me has always been free. I just got a haircut."
Holly stopped dead.
Then she burst out laughing — a real one, not the polite kind. "That is such a lie." She pointed at him.
"You look completely different. You look — " She covered her mouth. Her cheeks were still red.
"Okay, fine. You were always — I mean — " She gave up and laughed again. "The haircut did something, David. I’m just saying."
"Noted."
"You’re not even going to admit it?"
"There’s nothing to admit."
She shook her head, still smiling, arms folding across her chest like she was trying to compose herself and failing. The street was quiet around them.
The grey light sat on everything — the peeling houses, the dead grass, the cardboard window — and Holly stood in the middle of it looking like she’d walked out of somewhere else entirely.
"So," David said. "Are we doing this or not?"
Holly looked up at him. The smile shifted — smaller, warmer. Her chin dipped slightly.
"Mm-hmm."
***
They flagged down a cab two streets over.
Holly slid in first. David followed, pulled the door shut, and the car eased into traffic.
"So where are we going?" he asked.
"You’ll see."
"That’s not an answer."
"It’s a surprise." She glanced at him sideways. "Can you handle surprises?"
"Depends on the surprise."
She smiled and looked back out the window- viewing the storefronts, pedestrians, the occasional gap between buildings where you could see the upper district sitting above everything like it always did.
"It’s not far," Holly said. "And before you ask — it’s not expensive."
"I wasn’t going to ask that."
"You were thinking it."
David said nothing.
’Her example of not expensive and mine is most definitely not the same. ’
She gave the driver the address, and settled back into her seat.
He caught up with her at the entrance, face completely neutral, and soon they began to converse.
"It’s gotten louder lately," Holly said, looking out the window. "The lower district. Have you noticed?"
"I haven’t been here long enough to notice."
"Right." She glanced at him. "How long has it been?"
"Few weeks."
She nodded. Outside, a food stall blurred past and something shifted in her expression.
"That one’s gone," she said, mostly to herself.
"Which one?"
"There used to be a stall. On Crest and Fourth. The woman there did this pepper sauce thing over rice — " She stopped.
"It was really good. I walked past last week and it was just gone." She paused.
"Actually, now that I think about it — the guy who ran the corner shop two blocks from me. Gone. And my neighbor, Mrs. Tade, I haven’t seen her in — " She frowned. "Huh."
"People move," David said.
"Yeah but — " She went quiet for a second. The frown stayed.
Then she blinked. Shook her head once, like clearing water from her ear.
"Anyway." Bright voice, fresh start. "Let’s...Let’s just talk about something else."
’Hmm...’ David pondered for a moment. ’That was kinda...weird, right?’
The cab pulled up maybe fifteen minutes later, finally marking the commencement of their date.
She stepped out and he followed, and he looked at the place — modest frontage, nothing flashy, the kind of spot that had regular customers instead of first-timers trying to impress somebody.
’An angel,’ he thought. ’An actual angel.’
Because a woman who picked somewhere reasonable on a first date — who didn’t use the occasion to see how much she could extract — that was a specific kind of woman. The kind worth paying attention to. He wasn’t about to say that out loud. But he noted it.
"I didn’t want to pick somewhere too expensive," Holly said, almost like she was apologizing for it. "It’s our first time out, so — "
"It’s good," David said.
She looked at him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She smiled and they moved toward the entrance.
Then Holly stopped.
She went still so suddenly that David took another half-step before he noticed. He turned.
Her eyes were fixed on something across the way. Her breath caught — a small thing, barely audible — and then she exhaled slow, like she was making a decision.
"Wait."
David followed her gaze. He didn’t see it immediately.
Then, she raised her hand and pointed.
Across the street, squeezed between a laundry and a phone repair shop, sat a small building with its name blazing in bright letters above the door.
ARCADE
Holly turned to look at him. The smile was already there, doing exactly what it was doing.
"Change of plans," she said. "How about a little fun before we eat?"
’Hmm? We’re still gonna eat after the fun?’ he repeated internally, almost with regret.
He looked at the arcade. Looked at her. Looked at the arcade again.
Then he smiled.
"Sure...I don’t mind."
