Seph

[Seph]

It was pitch black in the city of RhyDin. The sun would not rise for another two hours. Inside a modest apartment building, in a small but tidy apartment, Seph was already dressed. Her curved and toned figure was covered head to toe in a long sleeve button down shirt, old deteriorating blue jeans, and work boots. She wore no makeup, which was a fairly common thing, and her luscious dark brown hair was pulled up and out of the way. It was the same every Monday and Thursday: up at half past 4am, out the door by 4:45.

Once out the door and onto the street, it was an easy ten minute walk to the docks where a large man with medium brown skin and several tattoos stood and waited, arms crossed. At the sight of Seph approaching, a smile spread on his face.

“Always the first one to arrive, eh, güerita?” The man chuckled as he spoke, shaking his head. Seph smiled, stopping a few paces in front of him.

“Shouldn’t surprise you, Santi. You know I’m your best worker.” Seph mirrored his stance, crossing her arms under her ample bust. Even under a tattered old work shirt, she was still beautiful.

The man she called Santi chuckled once more and made a motion to follow before heading toward an empty stall. He handed her a set of keys and went back to wait for the rest of their crew.

Seph wasted no time getting everything ready. She quickly unlocked the stall and began setting out the empty crates that would soon house several hundred pounds of different fish and a few other forms of sea creature, set out a stack of five gallon buckets for retrieving the ice that kept everything fresh, and unpacked a stack of clean butcher paper and a spool of thick string.

Once everything was set, she returned to Santi’s pier which now housed a fishing boat. Santi was there barking orders to a small, bleary eyed crew who were quickly unloading the day’s catch and heading toward the stall. As Seph neared, he gave her a quick upnod and she in response tossed his keys back to him.

“Haz caso a la señorita Seph!” Santi bellowed at the crew before heading back to the stall Seph had just left in impeccable order. It was the same phrase he used whenever he left her in charge, although he hardly needed to say it anymore. ‘Do what Seph says.’

It hadn’t always been that simple. Although Seph had long since proven her worth as a hard worker to the fishmonger, many of her male counterparts were quick to voice their doubts and often flat out disdain at being ranked below her. Santi remedied the situation with a severe yet effective punishment. Trust his judgment and by extension Seph’s leadership, or be sent home on the spot without pay, regardless of hours already worked. It wasn’t long before he had cycled through most of the day workers and the word spread. Begrudgingly, workers returned only to find out they actually liked Seph. She was firm but fair and led by example. She was always first in line to roll up her sleeves and get her hands dirty. Soon, any worker, man or woman, was proud to sweat and stink right alongside the blue eyed beauty.

Today was no different. Most of the workers were already busy unloading the day’s catch. Seph motioned to two people, an older man still strong enough to work but not quite quick enough to haul and unload fish, and Santi’s own 13 year old son Ruben come to help out before school. She smiled warmly at both of them and spoke one word.

“Hielo.” Ruben returned the smile and the older man whose name no one really knew nodded in understanding. They were to retrieve the buckets from the stall and fetched the ice for the fresh product to rest in.

The rest of the morning unfolded without a hitch and just as the sun was beginning to rise, the fish stall was already buzzing with business, signalling the end of Seph’s shift. It didn’t seem like much, just under an hour and a half, but she had worked hard and earned every cent Santi handed to her without question when she returned to the stall. She always ran things with such efficiency, they were often ready for business a full 15-30 minutes before any other stalls in the area, and in the quick paced madness that was the fish market, that meant a staggering increase in profit. No, he never hesitated to compensate her handsomely. He did, however, hold up a finger, entreating her to stay just long enough for him to hand her a covered plate.

“Acaba de cocinar lo.” Santi said with no small amount of pride. Sometime during the morning’s usual bustle, his mother had sent breakfast plates for him, his son, and all his workers.

Seph’s stunning blue eyes widened as she eagerly took the plate, giving it a deep, appreciative sniff. She let out a long, contented sigh and a smile quickly spread on her face. Money in her pocket and food in hand, she made to leave, when suddenly there was a commotion at the front of the stall.

Seph put her plate in a safe spot before she rushed toward the front to see what was happening. Santi, only a few steps behind her, called out.

“Que tanto ruido?!” He bellowed, demanding an explanation for the noisy scene. His eyes widened in shock as he stepped in line with Seph who stood, also agape. The man whose name no one really knew stood there body blocking a well dressed customer. The customer was yelling at the stone faced worker about calling the guard and having his job.

Seph was the first to recover. She quickly stepped between the two and spoke calmly and soothingly, a firm hand on each of their shoulders.

“I am so sorry. This should not have happened and I mean to rectify the situation immediately.” She looked back and forth between their faces as she spoke.

“I certainly hope so!” The customer began. “Never have I been so-HEY!” Before he could launch into another tirade, Seph released the old worker’s shoulder and swiftly put the other man in a headlock. He struggled and blustered for a moment before trying to overpower her, the facade of a well to do customer quickly abandoned. But her grip was like a vice and he soon found himself pleading for mercy.

“Okay, OKAY! I’ll leave!” He shouted, panic setting in.

“Not until you return what you stole.” Seph replied, still as cool and level headed as before. Her expression rivalled that of a preschool teacher waiting for an insolent child to yield. At first he tried to feign surprise, but a quick tightening of her iron grip stopped him cold. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. Santi swore and hurled vicious curses in spanish at the man as he recognized the item from his own stall. Aside from vast amounts and varieties of fresh fish, he also sold trinkets and baubles and even a few small bottles of hard liquor. And small, silver flasks.

“You have two options,” Seph hissed into the man’s ear. “You can leave and never show your face at the docks again, or you can try my patience and end up in traction.” Her harsh whisper sent a chill down his spine and he felt his muscles spasm and protest under her consistently tightening grip. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

“O-Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Okay? I’ll never come back, I swear!” Just as he was on the brink of tears, he was suddenly free. Seph had released her death grip on him and set him upright, smoothing the shoulders and lapel of his coat and straightening his tie.

“I’m so glad we could reach an understanding.” Her voice dripped with poisonous honey. The man nodded nervously, took a single shaky breath, and very quickly walked away, his proverbial tail between his legs.

The nameless worker remained stoic but for a small smirk. Santi, on the other hand, was about to split his seems with laughter.

“Correle, guey!” He shouted after the would be thief. He gave a nod of approval to the worker and motioned for Seph to rejoin him in his makeshift office.

“Como le supiste?” Santi wasted no time picking Seph’s brain. He trusted his workers, but he never would have guessed the well dressed man had been a thief. With a small shrug, Seph folded her arms under her bust and leaned on the rickety desk.

“He came in after the rush. Most of the bulk stuff is gone, the till is full, perfect time to make his mark.” A devilish spark flashed in her intense blue eyes as she stood and reclaimed her plate. “And his clothes were knockoffs.”

She didn’t wait for a response, but instead walked out the door with a small wave as she passed, Santi’s full bellied laugh trailing behind her. Before she made it too far, he called out to her.

“We need seguridad! And not just you throwing down, guerita!”

“On my to do list!” She retorted, never breaking stride.

[Seph]

Seph made it back home in record time. She wanted little more than to tear into her breakfast, but she wanted to be able to enjoy it completely and that required a hot shower. She set the plate to warm in the oven on low in her kitchen/dining room/living room/breakfast nook/foyer and headed to the bathroom.

She would never do herself the disservice of taking a half-hearted shower. She took great care in making sure every last bit of fish guts and scales, dirt, mud, and stench was scrubbed out of her hair and off her silky smooth skin. She just did so as fast as she could. The results were wild wet hair and a slight red glow to vigorously scrubbed skin. But that was not important. What was important was that her breakfast was still waiting for her. With a clean but thinning dish towel for an oven mitt, she pulled the plate from the oven, shut it off, and set her reward on the tiny, rickety table to eat. As she sat down, she pulled the aluminum off slowly for the big reveal. Scrambled eggs, refried beans, two tacos de lengua, and a small plastic cup with salsa verde. Her stomach rumbled loudly as she dug in, making a mental note to buy Santi’s mother some flowers.

Her body clean, her stomach full, it was time to catch up on some much needed sleep before her next paying gig. Seph retired to her bedroom/study/walk in closet/think tank for some well earned shut eye.

Early that afternoon, Seph was in her work clothes again; however, these looked vastly different from her last ensemble. Simple black ankle boots, a dark wash denim skirt of somewhat modest length, and a soft white cotton tank top under a comfortable three quarter sleeve black blazer. Her hair was never really a priority, not that it needed much effort. It was pulled back into a simple, yet elegant twist and fastened with a few bobby pins. While taking a moment to check her overall appearance before she left, she smoothed her skirt and tugged gently on the hem of her blazer.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She murmured to herself. Then she was once again out the door.

Her destination was fast approaching and her dread grew. The simple and affordable apartment buildings quickly gave way to less modest housing until she reached an estate. An actual estate. An estate bedecked with colorful balloons and streamers and a tell tale ‘Happy Birthday, Skylar!’ banner at the front gate. After a brief conversation at said gate, she was buzzed and shown where she would man her post.

Security detail for a 10 year old’s birthday party might have seemed a bit excessive to anyone else, but Seph already knew what kind of drama and action she was in for. There was always at least a few uninvited relatives that would have to be dealt with and asked to leave, a few guests who had a bit too much ‘grown up juice’ that would have to be escorted out, and she was the one to do it. She was the bad guy. The phrases ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’ ‘You are not welcome here.’ ‘I have already called the authorities.’ and ‘I’ll let you out of the headlock when you’ve calmed down.’ were all too common.

She often wondered why she put herself through all the ridiculous drama that wasn’t even her own. Her answer usually came at the end of the debacle in the form a very handsome paycheck and a handful of references for similar gigs.

Today’s client was a business associate of Santi’s. He did a lot of business with restaurant owners from all levels of sophistication. This level was one of the higher ones. The party area was set up with at least a dozen tables and several dozen chairs, a clown (which she deliberately avoided), a sundae bar, a grown up bar, a band, and a table already covered in a mountain of presents despite the fact that the guests were not due to arrive for another half hour.

“Your responsibilities are quite simple.” Skylar’s mother explained. “You are to ensure the mood remains festive by breaking up any tensions that might arise, but you are to do so in a pleasant manner. Changing subjects if a debate becomes too heated, diffuse and misdirect if touchy subjects are brought up, and most importantly, make sure to mention Skylar at least once in every conversation, keeping the focus on him as much as possible.”

Seph only nodded. She didn’t dare speak for fear of blurting out any of the thoughts that raced through her mind as she listened.

“Now this is very important, dear, are you listening?” Skylar’s mother dropped her voice to a husky, hushed tone. “Skylar’s half sister’s mother will undoubtedly try to weasel her way in. It is up to you to make absolutely certain that does not happen. If she so much as sets one foot on these premises, your pay is forfeit and your reputation is ruined. Do we have an understanding?”

Seph nodded again, still not speaking. She knew there was more.

“Good.” The woman smiled smugly for a moment before speaking again. “But she is not to be harmed! She is, after all, one of my very dear friends.”

And there it was. It took every ounce of self control not to roll her eyes. Instead, she managed an almost genuine smile.

“I understand perfectly. There won’t be a problem.” She said finally. The woman seemed satisfied and left to terrorize another of the day’s hired help. With a deep breath and a quick tug at the hem of her blazer, she began a quick survey of the perimeter to familiarize herself with the layout. Areas obstructed from view, entrances and exits, potential high traffic areas, all were logged carefully in her mental notes.

Family and friends began to trickle in and before long the tables filled and the drinks flowed. Sugary drinks for the kids and wine for the adults. Excellent combination.

The afternoon moved along as she had expected. She broke up an argument or two, called more than a few cabs for guests who had yet to develop a sense of moderation, and even managed to rewire the expensive sound system when one of the speakers was mysteriously knocked over and drenched with someone’s drink. Gradually, the client’s expression morphed from one of contempt to one vaguely resembling gratitude.

“Here you are, dear.” She handed Seph an envelope thick with payment and a few of her colleagues’ business cards. “I included a little extra for the, ah… extra dry cleaning you’ll likely need.”

Seph kept her face neutral and pleasant as she took the envelope and resisted the urge to glance down at the drink stain she acquired during one of the messier altercations. It was as close to an apology as she was going to receive and she wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from anything with streamers and holding her own drink.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wakefield.” She said politely before she turned quickly walked out of the estate before the woman could utter anything else.

[Seph]

It seemed like months before she finally made it to Rhy’Din’s most popular haunt. The Red Dragon Inn went through ebbs and flows but was rarely completely empty, at least not for very long. On this night, there were a handful of people already enjoying their drinks and each other’s company. Well... most were. Seph took a quick survey of the room, spotting a few vaguely familiar faces here and there, when her eyes happened upon one she immediately dubbed Mr. Grumpy.

As no one, not even Mr. Grumpy, seemed to be an immediate threat, she let her guard down a little. She literally let her hair down, the faint scent of fresh harvest peaches permeating through the regular smells of the inn. She sat just a seat down. Enough to give other patrons some space, but not so far as not to make new friends should the opportunity arise. Drink ordered, off her feet, Seph gave the room a more appreciative look around. There was an eager young buck at a table desperately trying to get her attention, a flirtatious young woman she couldn’t help but smile at, and several others who were perfectly content minding their own business.

And then there was Mr. Grumpy. She tried offering him a friendly smile and may as well have been a piece of furniture. Her drink order arrived, and after a generous tip, she lifted her bottle of Ziegenbock to good old Chuckles and got a single quirked eyebrow for her efforts. She knew when her battle was lost and turned her attention to her well earned drink. After savoring every last drop, she slowly rose and made to leave when she couldn’t help catch a snippet of conversation. Someone was looking for a job!

Habit took over and she halted mid exit and turned to find the source. Damned if it wasn’t Mr. Grumpy himself. Her nearly unshakable smile faltered almost imperceptibly. A rudimentary assessment provided her with multiple reasons why she should just keep moving. He was skinny. Painfully skinny. Santi’s rail thin thirteen year old son had to have at least ten pounds on him. His clothes, while perhaps not designer, did not appear run of the mill. The leather jacket was nice enough. It made Seph want to reach out and feel how supple it was. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about his boots seemed otherworldly.

His biker look wasn’t one that surprised her. She had experience enough to know appearances were incredibly deceptive. There was just something about him that screamed ‘I do not belong on a boat!’ And with that final appraisal, she was ready to cut her losses and continue on.

Mentally, she was out the door. Smiley could find his own damn job. He probably didn’t even wanted to work at a fish market anyway. Nope. Not her problem. So why wasn’t she halfway home by now? A defeated sigh escaped full lips as she looked down at feet that seemed to have sprouted their very own mind and stopped her dead in her tracks. She rolled her eyes and shook her head before piping up in her usual cheerful tone.

“I know where you can find some part time work. “ She said through a charming smile.

For a good long while, she was sure that narrowing of the eyes was the only response she’d receive. Just when she’d resolved to repeat her offer, the unexpected happened. He spoke. His voice was even and deliberate, heavy with a skepticism to match the wary and almost suspicious look on his face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve got an inn with a guy down at the docks. He’s always looking for hard workers.” She leaned past him and snagged a clean napkin from the bar. She felt about her pockets front and back until she found a beat up fragment of a pencil that scarcely looked as if it would hold together long enough to write down her boss’ name and stall pier number.

He continued to sit in silence, his only movement confined to tracking her movements moving only his eyes. Undaunted, Seph continued.

“As long as you don’t mind the early hours, I’m sure he’ll have something for you. Be there tomorrow morning at four. Just tell him Seph sent you.” She shot a friendly wink as she handed him the napkin. When he didn’t take it from her hand, she simply placed it down on the bar in front of him and smiled.

It seemed like an eternity before he finally showed any further signs of life, so when he spoke again, Seph blinked once or twice in small surprise but her smile never wavered. His visage remained skeptical, although she was beginning to think that was a natural state.

“I see.” He said simply. Then, after another long pause, he gave a nod and a curt but genuine, “Thank you.”

Satisfied she had done her part, Seph turned to leave in earnest. She walked home happy, almost ready to write Mr. Grumpy off as an all talk no show.

[Seph]

Trigger warning: physical assault/child abuse

Thirteen year old Persephone Walker slammed the front door and stormed down the walkway overgrown with weeds. She was nearly to the street when a rusting old beater pulled up and a boy not much older than her stepped out and blocked her escape.

“I’m not going back in there, Jason, I’d rather be homeless than live with him another minute!” Hot tears threatened to spill from her pained blue eyes. Her brother carefully lifted her chin with gently thumb and forefinger, bringing her face into the light. His bewildered expression twisted into one of rage and hurt. His little sister sported not one, but two black eyes and a busted lip, and he was certain the long sleeve plaid shirt she wore in the sweltering summer heat covered up even more bruises and cuts. Before he could say or do anything, the front door tore open and out tumbled a bedraggled older man with piercing blue eyes that matched the pair of teens in front of him.

“Get your scrawny ass back in the house, Athena!” he bellowed the wrong name, the smell of hard liquor oozing from his pores. “And you,” he stumbled toward his son as he spoke. “Where the hell have you been?! You were supposed to mow the goddam lawn, you lazy little bastard!” The irony of calling his son illegitimate was completely lost on the inebriated man.

“I just got off work, Dad.” He muttered, exhausted both physically and mentally.

“Work?!” His father scoffed. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve been running around all day avoiding your responsibilities here!” With a broad, sweeping motion, he gestured toward the house. It had been cozy and inviting once, but now it showed signs of neglect and disrepair.

“I told you I had to work today, Dad.” Jason spoke as calmly as he could, but one more quick glanced at his battered sister broke what little restraint he had left. “I also told you if you laid a hand on any of my sisters again, you’d regret it.”

Cole Walker snorted his contempt. He literally brushed past Seph, shoving her out of the way and knocking her over in the process, to get to Jason.

“The only regret I have is you! Get the hell out of here and never come back! If I see your stupid face again, I’ll smash it in worse than hers!” He bellowed. But Jason refused to be bullied. He stood his ground and puffed out his skinny sixteen year old chest.

“I don’t care what you do to me.” he retorted defiantly, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. For a moment, he seemed to have gained the upper hand. After all, what good was an abuser whose victim no longer feared him?

But the victory was short lived and the sense of triumph rapidly seeped away. A sinister glint lit up the older man’s eyes as he brought his haggard face inches from Jason’s.

“No. You don’t, do you. You think you’re tough shit? Think you’re grown? Gonna stand up to the big bad boogeyman?” His sneer split his face in to and the dangerously low and even tone in his voice shook Jason to his core.

“Have it your way then,” he continued. “Leave this house, or I’ll make you watch as each one of your sisters takes a beating for you.”

Jason Walker knew a lot of things. He knew the difference when his old man was blathering on drunkenly and when he meant business. He knew he’d really stepped in it by standing up to him. He knew that the only reason their father beat Seph about the face this time was because it was summer and he’d get away with locking them up in the house until all the evidence healed before school started. But more importantly, he knew Seph was just like him. Strong, with a deep sense of responsibility for her sisters. She would inevitably try to protect the younger girls, taking more beatings for herself in the process. He had done the same for her many times. He couldn’t let her take any pain for him.

Without a word, he retreated to his car in defeat.

“No!” Seph cried as she scrambled to her feet. She grasped for him, her fingers reaching and just missing the cuff of his own out of season flannel shirt. She meant to follow him, to plead with him, but he spun around and grabbed her by her upper arms. He could only look at her with shame in his eyes as he slowly shook his head, silently imploring her to stay. Satisfied she would not follow this time, he released her, slipped into his rust bucket and drove away.

Smug satisfaction took temporary residence on Cole’s face as he watched his only son disappear down the street His expression quickly gave way to annoyance when he realized that with Jason gone, there would be no more meager teenager paycheck to confiscate.

“Get your ass back inside, Ariadne!” He shouted as he turned back and disappeared into the shabby house.

Seph stood for a long time staring after the car that had long since disappeared. She felt lost and completely alone. Her lip trembled a bit before she took a deep breath, roughly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and stared at the house that loomed before her like the mouth of a cave. She took a tentative step toward the door when that same angry voice bellowed.

“PERSEPHONE!’”


Seph woke with a start, confused at first until she began to recognize her small, dark bedroom in her cramped little apartment. She sighed heavily and uncharacteristically flopped back onto her pillow for a moment. Just long enough for her heart to stop racing. She’d start her day in just a minute. Just one more minute.

[Seph]

Time waited for no one, no matter how unsettling their dreams from the previous night were. It was because of this verity that Seph found herself sprinting out of her apartment with her denim jacket only half on and her hair still dripping. It was almost as if she was trying to physically run away from painful old memories and haunting dreams. She wasn’t scheduled to work that day but she intended to be there anyway. She told herself it was because it was on the way to her first errand of the day… three hours later. In reality, she wanted to see if Mr. Grumpy would actually show up.

Seph didn’t know what to expect. The eternal optimist in her hoped for the pleasant surprise of him already there wearing work clothes and his least sour puss. The realist in her partially expected him to show up late, if at all. The more she thought about it, she realized she was more nervous about him actually showing up. If he didn’t, Santi always chalked it up to her being too trusting and wouldn’t hold it against her. But if he showed up… then what?

So immersed in her thoughts was the blue-eyed beauty that she hardly noticed she was already at the end of the pier Santi used. She looked up, expecting to see the usual workers and no Mr. Frowny Face. But to her surprise, there he was, long black sleeves scrunched to the elbows, arms crossed as he listened intently on the rundown the fishmonger gave him. Her optimistic little heart skipped a beat. She was so proud! But she didn’t dare call attention to herself for fear of breaking some imaginary spell akin to that of a deer stopping nearby for a drink. Before she could come up with a solid plan, she stepped quickly to one side, partially hidden by a stack of empty crates waiting to be utilized. Her plan was to slip quietly away, and she would have succeeded, had another fairly new worker named Geoff not called out.

“Seph! Hey! I thought you had the day off! You gonna haul fish in that?! You look gre-OW! Hey!” His shouting cut short by the old worker whose name nobody knew clapping his hand down on the younger man’s shoulder and pointing to the mountain of work that needed to be done. The poor kid sputtered, desperate for any reason to keep talking to her, and the nameless man simply shook his head, the simple action speaking volumes of the chances he thought Geoff had with Seph. None.

All the commotion inevitably drew the attention she was actively trying to avoid. Both Santi and Grumpy looked up, the former with a small but warm smile and upnod for her, the latter simply stared at her hard for what felt like several minutes. Busted. It was alright. She’d own it. Seph straightened and stepped out into the open, flashed her brilliant smile, and gave a small yet friendly wave. After what felt another several even more agonizing minutes, Chuckles, too, gave her a curt single nod. With that, she spun on her heal and walked away. Awkward, sure, but it still felt like a win. She couldn’t help the little mental fist pump she gave herself as if to say, ‘Score! A new friend!’