Rennick

‘What happened to your eyebrow?’ the customer asked. Julie looked at him, wondering whether she should make a badge with the answer.

‘I knocked my face on my sink when I bent over to pull my socks off. Yes, I was drunk. Yes, it hurts. No, I do not want you to kiss it better.’. Every time she answered the question, she gave a different answer. Her mother had asked her yesterday and ‘pulling my socks off’ had been ‘pull out a tampon’, it had also been ‘tickle my pet crocodile’, ‘tie my shoes’, ‘pick up magic beans’ and ‘switch off my vibrator’.

‘Do you want fries with that?’ she asked, ringing up the burger.

‘Curly, spiced.’ the man said, continued, ‘I wasn’t going to ask any of those questions, I was going to ask if you knew Ty Rennick?’

Julie looked up sharply. Who was this man, what did he know about Ty? She hadn’t heard that name in months, maybe a couple of years, she’d lost count. She felt her face begin to darken with blood and turned her attention to the cash register, ‘Eight pounds fifty’, Julie managed to keep her voice calm, ‘never heard of a Ty Renwick’

‘Rennick’, the man said, handing over a ten pound note, ‘Rennick, he used to live with you, didn’t he?’

Julie looked up, the man was looking straight through her with a half-smile that was a smirk. It was now she noticed the gold rings around his irises.

‘No, sorry, I’ve no idea who you mean, I’ve always lived alone.’ She realised her mistake as soon as she had said it, ‘until my boyfriend moved in recently, his name is Steve.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry’, the man said, taking the change from Julie, his fingers lingering on her palm as he took the coins, ‘I thought you were Julie Croweather.’