Chapter 2

The stranger knew she looked familiar. He recognized her despair. Her eyes were rich and drowning, but they lacked something. The life in her dark chocolate eyes was muddled and murky. He’d heard her play every two weeks for the entire summer season. She stood on the same corner, ate from the same corn dog food truck, and sat on the same bench—constantly alone, always with that beat-up, termite-chewed guitar case. Just when she blended in, he noticed her. He saw her standing out from the crowd, even though she tried to melt into the pavement. She shone like a diamond to the stranger on the pier.

“I’m so sorry. I-I just reacted. I don’t like to be surprised,” she mumbled as she held out her hand to help the stranger up.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to give this t-to-y-y-you.” He handed her the case and steadied himself.

They awkwardly gawked at one another—almost as if one didn’t want to be the first to leave the other.

“So... yeah. Well, goodnight.”

“Hey, aren’t you going to give me something in return?” The stranger had nerve, but he didn’t care. He was dead set on getting her name.

Leigh Anne glared at the unabashedly beautiful stranger. She wasn’t about to reward someone she had barely spoken to for making a noble gesture. Well, besides a curt thank you.

“T-thank you?” Her voice was sharp and quick.

“I was expecting a bit more than a quick thank you.” The stranger stood his ground and threw back equal shade. “This is your bread and butter, isn’t it?”

Leigh Anne was getting exasperated. She didn’t converse with people who didn’t tip her.

“What the hell do you want from me? Are you a bill collector? Are you my lawyer? How I earn my way is none of your business.” She turned on her heel and started back down the pier to the main road that paved the path back to her tiny home on wheels.

“Look, look, I’m sorry. All I was hoping for was a name,” he called out to her.

Leigh Anne stopped abruptly; her shoulders sagged, and just when he thought she would turn around to meet his eyes again, she raised her head, stood up straight, and continued on her way.

“Leigh Anne.”

“What?” he asked, looking to his right.

The corn dog stand server choked out. “Her name. Leigh Anne. But we call her Lonely Heart.”

He clenched his lips tightly, creating a hard line from ear to ear. Lonely Heart.

“Thanks, man.” The stranger started in the direction she walked.

I’ll be seeing you soon, Leigh Anne.

Home Sweet Home

This night had been particularly slow. She ended her performance earlier than usual due to a lack of listeners, passersby, and fairgoers. Tonight was the last night of summer before school resumed on Monday, so she ended her season of street performing. She barely made enough for a week’s worth of groceries.

When Leigh Anne first arrived in Santa Monica, she lived the dream—as the young kids say. She worked two jobs, had money to spare, rock climbed, learned to surf, and adopted a cat, but then her lawyer contacted her and explained there was a change to the divorce settlement. They awarded Ethan alimony!

Ethan claimed Leigh Anne owed him and his family for all the failed IVF treatments that resulted in miscarriage after miscarriage and one stillborn. She had no resources to contest it, and she had no relationship with her parents since the divorce. Her parents had sat on his side of the courtroom.

As she strolled down the street, her sense of smell was hit with the familiar sweetness of lavender. The grand estate she passed on her route grew the blossoms outside the immense black iron gates.

The aroma of lavender made her feel safe at home. Leigh Anne had a sense of ease wash over her as she climbed the two short steps up to her front door. Turning the key, she was greeted by a loud, impatient ginger-furred Maine Coon... meow

“Awe, Gretel. I’m so sorry. I forgot your lunch today. Here, look! I couldn’t finish my corn dog.” Leigh Anne bent down in her tiny farmhouse kitchen to break up the rest of her dinner and put it in her cat’s bowl.

Pressing her body against Leigh Anne’s calf, she gladly accepted

the peace offering. As Leigh Anne pulled off her shoes, she noticed something poking out of her guitar case. She pulled it up onto her lap and opened the case. To her surprise, she saw a wad of cash. Five hundred dollars in fifty-dollar bills!

After closer examination, there was a white receipt—her cash-out receipt from her housekeeping job—on the back, which had poorly written handwriting. My name is Theodore, but my friends call me Theo.