Lies.

Vacaville.

"Hello, my name's Jonathan and I was driving down highway *something something, and I was looking to enquire about the plot of land that was for sale looking over the highway." I could feel my sister cringe in the backseat, her lips tied shut. My brother in law, who was driving the car was holding back his humor. I kind of felt as if he was wanting to laugh because it's a very laughable moment, but not laughing because he's an adult and crank calls were so 20th century.

"Well, where's this plot of land?" Clarence, the real estate advisor asked.
"Oh it's the one before..." I checked the road for the nearest exit, "The Davis Street Exit." The plot of land was a hilly area that was blanketed by bright green and yellow grass. It was indeed beautiful, but in an obvious way, it was also too costly for my nonexistent bank account.

"The plot of land is one million and 6 hundred thousand dollars." Yep, definitely pocket change for me.
"Oh, that sound pretty reasonable. Well I also wanted to know, because I'm a entrepreneur myself, that if I do purchase this plot of land, that I'll be able to start a business over there.
"Well what type of business are we talking about???" I felt a silent thunder shock instill in my chest. What would I do? In my head, I knew that I always had a plan to start a business, a product that was just not coming up in the time of now. I was thinking straw, straws. And not the cow stable straw, I was thinking about loopy roller coaster straws. Why straws? I have no idea.
"Well..." I said hesitating, and stuttering in confusion, "well, I sell horses." Horsies. Yes, horsies.
"Well a business like that would definitely be acceptable."
"Oh, well that's great then. I'll have to consult this with my wife; we are looking around for a place to build a home, so I will get back to you. Is this the best way to get in touch with you?"
"Yes it is."
"Okay then, I'll keep in touch."
"Thank you," he replied.

I hung up my phone, and my brother in law laughed. I couldn't see my sister but I assume that she was holding onto her chest for dear life.


* * * * * * *


"Jaype, don't ever do that when I'm in the car," my sister said, the minute we set foot into the Gap Outlet in Vacaville. My eldest sister's quite an emotional, unfun having person. She's 10 years older than me, and living her dream of being a parent, and a nurse, so she has nothing to complain about. I brushed off the comment and continued to pursue the outlets.

When we walked through a store there was always one very vibrant attractive woman working or walking around. The sensually tan girl at that one clothing store with the tatoo of a hummingbird on her shoulder, wearing that 70's halter top that covered one shoulder and not the other. The tall skinny nerdy girl, who probably does not know how to apply make up in any way other than for a goth premise, working at the candy store. The girl at the other clothing store who's face was loveable in a old friend, "My Girl" movie, type of way, until you saw her dress dressing up her long swelling cleavage.

My sister's looking for anything cheap and anything likeable. So I've been choosing out clothes and giving her my honest opinion. Like the hat she found at Banana Republic, that looked like it's been in a horded garage for 10 years, and you just decided to pat down the lint very unsuccessfully and put it on. Or, the grandma print that looked like an Ohio country home table cloth. My sister was looking for a cardigan, just your normal run of the mill cardigan; that we couldn't find.

I walked into a *store, you obviously know why I'm keeping myself so vague, and found a girl wearing a wool green cardigan.
"Hey, could I ask you something?" AFC approaches; good when dealing with professional circumstances.
"Yeah, sure."
"Where'd you get that cardigan?" I asked.
"Oh this thing," she waved me down to follow her and I followed suit. We came up to the wall as she attempted to grab something off a top hanger. When she bended forward, she exposed the tatoo designed on the side of her hip. It was a whimsical scenery brought to life by bright effervescent colors. I told her it was an awesome tatoo, and she said thank you in a very sincere liking manner. I told her about this one time I was working at Starbucks and I was borrowed by another location, and my first day working there this girl showed off her tatoo to these guys in line. The thing was her tatoo stretched from her butt all the way up to the top of her armpit. As she presented herself, she wasn't wearing a bra, so she was cupping her right boobie. The cardigan girl laughed. She too, wanted a complex nativity scene sprouting from her butt up to her armpit.

She went into the back to see if they had anymore cardigans, one specifically that didn't have graphic detail. I knew I was going to number close her. I knew it, so I hid behind some aisles and waited for her to come follow me as I circled around my words that I'd say in my head. I didn't want to do it out in the open because other people suck, and other people talk. It's just well prepared planning.

After a long grueling moment of looking at crap that wasn't even close to something I'd wear, ever, she found me, my back turned to the opening of the aisle. "So we don't actually have any other types of cardigans."
"That's cool," I replied. "But hey, my friends and I just moved down here, and we'll be throwing a house warming party next week, and you should totally come."
She looked up at me with feverishly delighted eyes, "I AM SO DOWN!" she said emphatically. I felt my heart sink, in a very not so great way.

The people of Vacaville must be starving for social recreation. It's boring here. There mustn't be anything to do but play video games and fuck each other. Once I saw her explosive emphatic emotion, I knew I screwed up. I knew I screwed up bad. I knew my position of not having friends that moved to Vacaville, not being able to throw a house party, all screwed. All fucked up. All stupid bullshit. I had the comfort, I had the attraction, I had the rapport. She hurriedly took my phone, placed her phone number in it, and smiled at me with her luscious pink pierced lips. I took her hand, her fingers decorated in hot pink nail polish, and twirled her.

She laughed. And giggled. And got her hopes up for nothing. As I walked out of her store, I felt the rousing breath of successfully number closing her inhaling into my veins. However, I also felt the bed of lies like a insect biting the back of my neck.