He’d still had the emerald necklace in his pocket when he left the drop off. Jame'd swiped it the second he noticed no one watching, the diamonds were certainly worth the trouble, and those he handed over quickly to the Chinese thugs, but there was something about the emerald he really liked. This was when Jamie decided to stop in at a club in Lower Chicago, Via. It was a counterculture club, and full of a myriad of outcasts. Oscillating, twisting, turning rhythmic bodies clashed, and embraced on a dance floor of decadence. Overall, he had a damn fine time. The skinhead band didn’t matter, nor do did the abundance of subcultural girls and punk rock princesses. No, Jamie simply drank to his success, and watched with a mild contentment at the poverty-stricken by-products of a great societal schism long forgotten. Jamie was happy, for the first time in seventeen years.

It wasn’t until the end of the night, that he truly understood why he’d come here. Jamie was smiling, while he walked through the large doors out onto the street. He was about to walk home, when he turned, and saw the most tragic of sights. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen, darkened Hispanic skin tones and dark ebony strands of hair pulled back tightly to her skull. She was gorgeous, with the deep red lipstick, and deep black and purple eyeliner, sitting there with her knees close to her chest, some black and white band tee shirt stretched over her knees. He smiled, and turned to her.

“Waiting on someone?”

She looked up, her eyes were wet. “N-no. No one…”

Jamie wasn’t hesitant. Perhaps, it was the girls’ beauty, or perhaps it was his blood-alcohol content. “These streets can get bad at night, do you need someone to walk you home?”

She wiped her eyes, “how do I know you aren’t like the other street kids?”

“I’m not going to mug you, or rape you if that’s what you think,” Jamie spoke quickly, then he thought quickly. He pulled the emerald necklace from his inside pocket, and affixed it round her neck before she could protest. Jamie stepped back and smiled, the intricate designs carved into the silver that held the gargantuan perfectly carved emerald looked perfect resting against her soiled flesh, and unwashed tee shirt. It paled in comparison.

The girl looked down at it, “but… I don’t know what to say, it’s certainly pretty…”

Jamie smiled, “I like emeralds, they’re rarer than diamonds, you know.”

She smiled weakly, “I’m Lisseen… Lisseen Mendoza.”

“Jamie Kozel, can I walk you home?”

Lisseen nodded meekly.

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