"It's a rare gene around the people, these eyes can occur in anyone, but it is rarely the case... I'm one of the lucky few", the stranger answered Jake.
He eyed him warily, trying to pick up any hints of character, subtle or greater. Continuing, the stranger added, "Best hurry off and deliver that pizza. I hear there's a concert tonight and that it'll be wicked awesome. Don't want to miss something like that."
Jake didn't hide his reaction, his brow elevating and a slight tilt of his head in confusion. He was about to inquire further, but the strange character had already turned to take his leave. Staring after the guy for a moment as several people passed him on the sidewalk, Jake looked back to the overturned pizza on the ground. Gee thanks, pal... With a draining sigh, he turned to make his way back to work so his manager can give him hell for failing to deliver a couple of pizzas.
The sun had already begun to set by the time Jake made it to his apartment on the more indigent side of town. The concert, he already knew, was out of the question for him. He could make a late appearance if he had a way of getting a hold of his friend, but by that time he had already left for the show. Tossing his knapsack on the dirty laundry-ridden bedroom floor, the 20 year old plopped down on the side of his bed, and pulled out his pack of Camel cigarettes, retrieving one to smoke. As he exhaled a cloud of toxin-filled smoke, the events of the day began replaying in his head. Specifically, the ones that occurred on his afternoon run that ended up causing Jake to stay late and miss the concert. Who was that chick?, he wondered, being he usually couldn't care less about unfamiliar people he crossed paths with on the day to day. Something was off about her... and not to mention the creep that looked like a Brazilian vampire! What's his deal? Taking a long drag from the cigarette, got from the bed and slugged over to the window.
Just outside, in Jake's neighborhood, nearly the entire strip of buildings seemed almost sickly, as the poverty-stricken community had a serious problem with maintenance and crime. Emergency vehicle sirens could be heard near and far almost constantly, the smog in the city seemed thicker in the air here. Trash littered the streets, graffiti was on just about every building wall. He opened the window to flick his ash outside, the sound of the commotion of the streets 3 stories below amplifying. Exhausted, and quite frankly -- bored, Jake's eyes scanned the pedestrians below, first peering at a few crackheads in front of the liquor store across the street. A pair of young teens were in the convenient store catercorner to the Old Theatre at the far corner of the block. Even at this distance, Jake could see the two shoving bags of chips and soda cans in their pockets before hurrying out onto the street, and running off. The sound of a car coming to a halting stop turned his attention to a nice car on the side of the Old Theatre. Upon looking closer, Jake realized the very two people whose faces seemed implanted in his memory from earlier today were actually standing at the exit of the alley behind the Theatre. What the hell?
Having forgot about his cigarette, most of it had burned away by itself between his fingers. His eyes were still fixed on the curious group at the block corner. A blonde, voluptuous girl exited the driver side, walking around the car and leading the slightly confused looking chick in dark clothes to the doors. The white haired-red eyed guy slunked after the girls and got into the backseat as they peeled off. Not knowing what to think, Jake tosses his finished cigarette out the window. For some reason, he had a peculiar feeling. Like he was supposed to be somewhere, but had just forgotten where.
You should go to that concert. The fact that he didn't have his own ticket didn't seem to occur to him as he takes his work clothes off to change into something a little more stylish. Not much, but a little. Settling on a white tee shirt and a newer pair of Levi's and old Converse shoes, Jake looked like some greaser from the 1950s. As if under command, he scooped his knapsack back up, and quickly head out the door. His actions weren't premeditated, but rather seemingly instinctual. Not knowing how he was going to get there, Jake silently walked with direction, turning this corner and that before he found himself in the subway several blocks down from his apartment. A train stopped in front of him, the brakes squealing faintly on the tracks. Get on.