The engine of her red, beat up truck idled as it slowly entered a parking spot. It rumbled loudly as it turned off. She opened the door, and it shut with a loud, rusty bang. There were probably a half a dozen waterproof army duffel bags in the back and a tattered leather guitar case. She stopped the truck, and got out of the vehicle. Her hair was the color of a crow’s feathers at midnight, her skin was pale and looked almost translucent, yet there was slight tan on her left arm. Her eyes were the magnificent color of sea at noon, close to shore, without any wake. She was wearing jeans and a cut off tank top. She had all the right curves in all the right places, perfectly proportioned and delicate in many ways. The park she was at was full of the most beautiful spring blooming flowers, far to the left there was a pomegranate tree. It was there she was headed, carrying her guitar, and a bottle of water.

The day was still young and she had been driving for more than twenty hours, it showed in the dark circles under her eyes. Sadly, sleep always alluded her, she wanted to rest but couldn’t because of the nightmares that ensued every time she closed her eyes. Solemnly, she was sitting under the pomegranate tree; she pulled her guitar out from its tattered leather case. The guitar was the best acoustic guitar that money could buy; it shone like a diamond and sounded so sweet and melodious with just the simplest plucking. She played cord after cord furiously and it sounded delicate and lovely. The only thing she wished was that no one would be attracted by her playing; she hated it when people threw money at her.

However, as soon as the thought had occurred, someone walked up. She didn’t wish to look up at his face, so she concentrated on his shoes. Black leather boots, silver buckles. His pants hung over his boots; they were ragged at the bottoms and black as well. She continued playing, hoping he’d go away. He didn’t, so she looked up. Leave, she thought. Her eyes met his, and they sparkled like the deadliest of jewels, brown, bordering on black. Gorgeous, she thought. He reached up and pulled a pomegranate from the tree. He handed it to her and smiled. She took it from him, staring at the fruit, because she didn’t really know what to do with it.

“Haven’t ever seen you here before.” His voice pressed like a weight in the air that was only surpassed by the weight of his stare on her.

“I’m not… from around here. I’m just passing through.” She gave the same angry, yet seductive stare that he gave her.

“Ahh… a nomad. My name is Helix… y’know, like double helix… it was some cruel parental joke. But everyone around here calls me Hades.” His face slackened, and a soft smirk showed on his face. He was no doubt laughing on the inside due to his own joke.

“Huh…I’m some cruel parental joke…” She never returned his smile but she let some of the hardness fall from her gaze.

“Hey, aren’t we all. But what’s your name?” He dropped to the ground and stared at her eye to eye. His monochromal dark hair and his dark eyes were eerily sexy.

“I don’t have one…” She strummed absent-mindedly at her guitar.

“If you don’t tell me… I’ll have to call you Sheila or…Rachel or… Bill. Yes, I think Bill will work just fine for you.” A man always thinks he’ll earn back a girl’s favor with a little bit of humor.

“Percy.” She said coldly. Too bad this isn’t your average girl.

“What?”

“My name is Percy.” What she was really thinking was, why don’t you go pick on someone more your size. I’ll hurt you too much if you don’t leave me alone. Wimp.

“You don’t look like a Percy. You look like a Bill.” He chuckled.

“My full name is Persephone Lee.” She strummed at her guitar again; the tune sounded almost archaic with the contrast of her high and low cords.

“That is a pretty name… pretty name for a pretty girl.” He was really laying it on thick; he’d never had this much trouble asking a girl out before.

“Look. I’m a little busy here, and I’d just like to be left alone.” She sucked at her water bottle, truthfully she hadn’t eaten in almost three days, that water bottle had been her sole sustenance for a long time.

“I’m busy too… I’m looking for a pretty girl to go out to lunch with me.”

“Look somewhere else.” She stared at her shoes; she was saying partially what she was thinking now, what a creep. Someone make him go away.

“What? No one has ever said that to me before… I’m in a band.”

“Really… you don’t look much like a musician to me.” God, when is this annoying cheap talk going to end?

“Come on. Everyone’s got to eat.” A fool never knows when to give up does he?

“I don’t have any money…” Band guys like rich girls don’t they? Maybe that’ll scare him off finally.

“I do… remember, I’m in a band.” He gave her that initial stripper stare of his that said I’d love to put on a show for you.

“What do you play?” She asked it hoping he get the idea that she didn’t really care.

“A flute…” He put on a serious face, he told her with his eyes that he wasn’t kidding about the flute.

“Really? You don’t find many male flute players.” There was an actual hint of interest in her voice now.

“I really play the guitar…. and I’m a big fan of sarcasm.” He smiled.

“Jackass…” She said under her breath.

“What?” He said as he brushed off his pants, standing upright.
“Oh nothing, I coughed.” She put her hand over her mouth so that he wouldn’t see her smile. Although she didn’t want to see anymore of this guy she was pleased she was actually getting a free meal in this hick town.

Persephone stood up and she eased her guitar into the case, sliding the locks into place. She tossed the pomegranate back to him, he caught it sluggishly. They walked back toward the parking lot, talking quietly about nothing of general interest. When they reached her truck she slung the guitar into the bed, then suggested they take her truck. He accepted, he always did like a good chauffeur.