She looked like cherry pie.
That was my first thought. My second thought was, what the hell was a woman like that doing stumbling around a dark street on a Friday night?
“Excuse me, miss…” I started, trying to stop her as she wobbled near the edge of the sidewalk.
“Fuck off,” she said, soliciting a picket fence for support. Her blonde hair had tumbled out of whatever had been holding it together, one strap of the dress was hanging precariously off her shoulder and she had a small smudge of mascara across her left cheek. Her lipstick matched the short red dress she was wearing and the sky high heels she was just barely managing to stand on.
She swayed a little, digging through her purse looking for something. A few tubes of something clattered to the ground as she pulled out her phone and look at it in confusion.
Ace, my German Shepherd, glanced up at me and whined a small sound of distress.
“It’s okay buddy. Look,” I took a step towards her, “it’s a little cold out here, why don’t you let me help you get home? Where do you live?”
She looked up at me with a scowl.
I glanced around, at the restaurants and bars lining the street.
“Hmm,” was my comment.
Unimpressed, she moved to strut past me, then her shoe caught on something and she stumbled. Reflexively, I reached out to steady her. Ace barked.
“I’m fine,” she said, but held onto me.
“What’s your name?”
“Charissa,” she said, sniffing.
I pulled off my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Okay, Charissa. How about we go inside for a second?”
She looked around, as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. Then, as if just realizing she’d lost track of where she was, seemed to acquiesce.