Chapter Three Plan B
I’m not sure how long we sat there in the darkness staring at each other like morons. The phone, her phone, rang again and Jeff picked it up again.
“Hello. Who is this, asshole? She’s right here sucking my dick. Ugghh, mmm, uh I think she’s tongue-tied dude. Fuck you too asshole. What? Bring it on, I’ll kick your fucking ass,” he said, finally hanging up. “He sure didn’t sound happy.”
“Who was it?” Jeff said with a chuckle
“One of her boyfriends I guess, He sounded fucking pissed off. Said he was going to come kill her and I.”
“Do you think we should call her and warn her?” I asked. “I mean, what if this dude does come and kick her ass? Or worse, actually kill her?”
“Fuck it. That crazy bitch pulled a fucking butcher knife on us,” said Jeff. “Use you’re fucking head. I say we call every fucking pizza place in town and order for her. Crazy bitch. We need to lose this fucking phone too,” he said.
“No we use her phone as leverage.”
“Leverage for what, certain arrest? I say we ditch it ASAP. Because if Linda Blair up there does happen to remember we have her phone and this pissed off guy shows up to kick her ass and she screams to him, “What are you talking about, I got trashed with these two guys by the pool and forgot it there,” whose door do you think that guy will be beating down first? I’ll tell you who, us.”
“She doesn’t know where this apartment is,” I said.
“No but she knows where the fucking landlord is. She could rat us out to him. There’s no telling what this woman can do if she gets really pissed. I saw her lay a mother-fucker out last night. For all I know that could have been him on the phone looking to come back and extract a measure of vengeance. He was sort of wimpy but imagine getting your ass kicked by a girl. I know I’d be pissed. Plus he probably thinks right now that we’re actually up in her apartment nailing the shit out of her. What’s that look?” he suddenly asked me.
“What look?” I said.
“Oh shit, tell me you didn’t fuck her,” he said. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck her.”
“I didn’t fuck her.”
“No Brett, look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t fuck her.”
I looked him in the eye but couldn’t get the words out without breaking into hysterical laughter. “I swear. Really. I really didn’t fuck her. I was with her but we didn’t fuck.”
“What did you do? Oh Jesus, she’s liable to say you raped her or something.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” I said.
“Hello, she pulled a knife on us. This thing has international scandal written all over it. Or at least sex crime. I can’t believe you tried to fuck her. I was only gone for 30 minutes, where’d you do it at?”
“In the bathroom by the picnic table,” I confessed.
“In the bathroom. You mean the one I took a big shit in this morning?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe you tried to fuck her in there.”
“We were just getting stoned first,” I said.
“So if you didn’t fuck her what did you do? Did you eat her out? You didn’t eat her out did you? “ “No. All I did was kiss her,” I said. “And finger her.”
“Did you wash your hand after?” he asked, laughing.
“I was in the pool, wouldn’t chlorine kill any cooties?”
“You’ve seen all the shit growing in the pool. Chlorine probably helps facilitate the growth rate.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “But you did make one good point. We need to dust her phone off and bring it back down to the pool. Preferably, before Romeo shows up. Chances are she’s probably passed out. But that’s all going to change when she wakes up from his beating on her door. They find the phone down there, they think no big deal, probably just kids playing on the phone.”
“Get to it dude,” he said.
I quickly wiped her phone down with a damp rag. I set it down and told Jeff to help me find a glove. He pulled out this huge, yellow, hideous dish washing glove.
“What?” he said, “It’s all I could find.”
What else could I do? I slipped back into the hallway with her phone clenched in my big, yellow dish washing gloved hand. Instead of walking up the hallway, I took a right and walked along the outside of the perimeter. It didn’t take me long to make it to the pool area.
I crept past the laundry room and through the old, wooden gate, which
blocks off the pool area from public view from the outside. I placed her phone on the ground right next to the pool. I reconsidered and put it on the picnic table furthest from our own so it, at least, wouldn’t get rained on if it stormed. It was a good thing I had gone back out.
We’d left behind a shitload of evidence that included the radio, our plates and the pitcher of screwdrivers Jeff had been nursing all day. I scooped up all the shit and hauled ass back to my apartment. When I got back the door was locked. I knocked gently. There was no answer.
“It’s fucking me asshole,” I finally said emphasizing my point with a knee to the door. He finally opened it.
“Man, you scared the shit out of me. What the fuck took so long?” he asked.
“All this crap we left out there.”
“Damn, I’m glad you grabbed all that stuff,” he said. “She has no fucking link, except her word, to us. Fortunately she’s such a bitch everyone probably already hates her. She, if she’s not lying, already had a run-in with your landlord. She won’t go to him. You just better hope she doesn’t decide to wake up screaming rape dude,” he said. “At least we’re short one felony charge without the stolen phone now. But we still have two
ounces of weed, all these pills scattered everywhere, not to mention me. If they run a check on me I go straight to jail. She’s got her phone, we’ve got our shit. I say we sleep, get up in the morning and pack a bag and slip quietly out of town for a few days. You have to call that guy tomorrow about that job. You said the area code was what
to
“We can’t go to
“Why not? It’s all coming together. We can’t keep living like this. Have you paid rent yet?”
“Oh shit, I forgot. I wrote the check out 3 days ago and forgot all about dropping it in the slot. Rent’s about a week late now. That’s probably why my landlord was banging on my door,” I said, relieved.
“At least we hope,” he said. “Okay cool, so you drop off the rent and we just cruise out in the morning. Or just tear up the check, empty the account and move out.”
“And this is your plan?” I ask.
“Yes, tonight the landlord may have just wanted rent. But trust me, the next knock at that door is going to be trouble. Once she wakes up something fucked up is going to happen. And we need to be as far away from here as possible before the shit hits the fan.”
“Allright,” I said. “You convinced me. We leave for
“That’s the spirit dude,” he said.
I staggered into my bedroom and collapsed on the bed, exhausted.
I don’t know how long I slept. It couldn’t nearly have been long enough though. I was still in the dark and Jeff was nudging me urgently, “Dude, wake up we have a problem.”
I was hoping it was just some sort of fucked up dream. It had been a long, strange week and last night had been the ugly orgasm of it all. It seemed as if it was the end of the story, with no loose ends and everyone accounted for. Or so I thought.
“Brett, wake the fuck up we have a problem.”
“What is it?” I finally asked.
“Listen,” he said.
He was holding something in his hand and it was vibrating.
“What is it?” I asked, becoming irate.
“My pager,” he replied.
“You woke me up from a sound sleep and the Swedish Bikini Team to show
me your god-damned pager?”
“She keeps paging us,” he said.
“Who keeps paging us?” I asked.
“The beast.”
“Oh fuck,” I moaned, snapping into upright position. “How the fuck did
she get your pager number?”
“Hell, she kept using it to keep an eye on the time. I guess she remembered the number. Of all the crazy, drunken psychopathic women to choose from we pick fucking Rain Woman. But wait. Really, listen. Upstairs,” he said pointing upwards.
I had heard it before Jeff had said anything. It was a low, almost rhythmical, pounding sound. I listened closer and there wasn’t anything really rhythmical about it. No. It was the unmistakable sound of some drunken or high asshole trying to beat someone’s door in. Romeo was a calling and now the bride of Satan herself was trying to page us to her rescue.
“You better call her. She’s leaving 911 as her code.”
“Nope, you said so earlier yourself, she pulled a kitchen knife on us. She’s obviously trouble. Besides, its your damn pager number she’s calling not mine,” I told him.
“Listen to that guy. If he gets in he will fuck her up. I’ve heard that sound before. Pure, dumb, white trash rage. Maybe she’s not all that crazy. I mean, you have to admit we probably came across as rather heavy today. You and your creepy little mannerisms, me in my wife-beater shirt calling her Jenny Craig all day, you trying to fuck her in the bathroom, both of us running around hiding like damned fools talking about me being a fugitive. If I was a woman living alone I might’ve pulled a knife on us too. I never thought about it but from her point of view, but we had to have seemed scary. Or at least a tad off the wall,” he said.
“Interesting point. And then you ended up antagonizing Romeo out there to this end and he’s come calling now. Sounds like a job for Jeffy. Hey lets get Jeffy he’ll try anything,” I said.
He flipped me off and dialed her number.
“Hello,” he said. “Who, calm down what now? Is it the guy you punched out last night? No, okay I see. Is he drunk? Crystal Meth? Oh shit. Well what are we supposed to do? Let me call you back,” he said hanging up.
“Let me guess,” I said. “An irate ex boyfriend on crystal meth?”
“Yep,” he said.
I snatched the phone out of his hand and hit redial.
“Hello,” she said, obviously sounding freaked out.
“It’s me Brett.”
“Come make this guy leave,” she cried almost sounding like she was hyperventilating.
“Fuck that. He’s on drugs,” I warned her. “You can’t trust people in that kind of condition. Besides why should we even do shit for you? You pulled a knife on us.”
“I was scared. You two freaked me out. This guy has been bugging me for the past few weeks. When you two walked in I thought, ‘oh shit, what if they’re both like convicts or something. I reacted. I’m sorry,” she said.
“Just come up and act like a sleeping neighbor pissed about the noise,” she suggested.
“I hate to break this to you but I have reason to sincerely believe this guy is beyond reason at this point. Fuck, I’ll come up,” I said slamming the phone down.
I was pissed. I was pissed at her. I was pissed at Jeff for waking me up. I was pissed at this moron up there standing between me and a good night’s sleep. I slid on a pair of sweatpants, put on my baseball cap and padded lightly up the stairwell.
I’m hardly the heroic type so I just stood down at my end of the corridor and irately yelled, “What the fuck? People are trying to sleep up here asshole.”
The acoustics of the corridor made the warning seem even louder and more authoritative than it really was. Surprisingly, he stopped, shut up and peered down the corridor at me.
“I’m sorry man,” he said. “But, I’m going to kill this bitch,” he said, flailing his entire body, which was pretty tall but fairly thin and emaciated, against her door.
“Look buddy,” I said. “If you don’t chill the fuck out I’ll call the police.”
Again, he was quiet. “This bitch fucked me over,” he said, pointing at her door.
“Who, Meg?” I asked, trying a different mode of attack.
“Dude, you know her?” he asked, suddenly curious.
“I talk to her out by the pool all the time,” I said.
He started moving towards me. “Do you fuck her too?” he asked.
“No, I have a girlfriend. What’s the fucking deal? Why are you trying to kill Meg?”
“I’m tired of her fucking me over,” he said, returning to his favorite activity, hurling himself against her door.
“She fucked you over today?” I asked. “That seems kind of hard. She was
down at the pool with my girlfriend and I almost all day.”
“I called her tonight and some fucking guy answered, he kept answering,” he said.
“It was probably kids. She’s always leaving her cordless phone down by the pool,” I said.
“Oh shit,” he moaned, as if he hadn’t considered this option before. “Really?”
“Yes. Please, go home. Chill out. Let us sleep,” I said.
It was about that time that a few other people began opening their doors to see what the disturbance was about.
A huge black guy that was built like a defensive lineman yelled, “Boy, what the fuck is your problem? People trying to sleep up here. I’ll fuck you up if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
The poor geek apologized and meandered down the stairwell. I went down the front stairwell and made sure that he actually left. Finally, I walked back into my apartment and shut and locked the door behind me.
“Well,” said Jeff.
“He’s gone.”
“Was he a big badass?”
“No, just a pencil neck geek on meth,” I said.
My phone rang.
“Let me guess, you didn’t hit star 67 before you called her earlier?” I asked.
“I fucking forgot,” he said.
I picked up the phone. It was Meg.
“He’s gone,” I said.
“I know, he just called me from his cell phone. He’s pretty fucked up. I’m afraid he’s going to come back,” she told me. “Look, I know this is asking a lot, but can I come down there to crash?”
“What?” I asked. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”
“Please.”
“He probably won’t come back,” I said.
“I don’t trust him. Come on, I’ll take the floor. I’d just feel much safer there,” she said urgently.
“Oh, with the two convicts you pulled a knife on?”
“I told you I was sorry about that. And if you remember correctly I almost fucked one of those convicts today,” she said. “I still might.”
“Just grab whatever and meet me downstairs, I’ll be in the hall. Hurry up. There’s been enough commotion in the hallways tonight.”
“Man, are you fucking nuts? You told her she could sleep here? What about
“We don’t even know if
“Two hours ago you were ready to pack fishing poles, now all of a sudden you’re ready to get laid. I’m not going to be a party to this,” he moaned, laying back on the sofa, pulling the blanket over himself, head included. “I’ll tell you one other thing too,” he said, the blanket still pulled over his head. “If you need to fuck her go ahead, but she is not, I repeat not going with us to
“Well of course not,” I said. “She is, after all, a loose cannon. I wouldn’t even take her to dinner much less Disney World.”
I was still standing in my doorway when she turned the corner. She looked like something out of a bad Soldier of Fortune photo layout. She was wearing a backwards baseball cap, hiking boots, cut-off jean shorts and an over-sized men’s dress shirt over her bikini top. She was carrying a small gym bag in one hand and a fifth of something and her other cordless phone in the other.
In short, a walking disaster area that looked like it was ready to set up camp in my living room for the duration. In that last second right before she got up to my door I almost just slammed the door on her.
I restrained myself though. She walked past me and I shut and locked the door behind her. She dropped her gym bag on one of my chairs and set the fifth of Cuervo on my kitchen counter. She set her phones on my kitchen table. Yes, I spoke correctly. She was packing backups. Not that I can’t say I blamed her. One was her cordless phone that had been the source of our entertainment earlier and the other was a cell phone.
“Is fat boy asleep? “ she asked.
Before I could answer a disgusting mouth-fart noise erupted from the sofa from underneath the blankets.
“What are you doing pleasuring yourself under there? Remind me to never sit on that sofa,” she said.
We were all pretty much sitting in darkness. Only the light from the TV and the stove light in the kitchen were on. She grabbed a candle from my book case, lit it and muttered, “I can’t believe that asshole did this. He’s driving me crazy.”
“Sounds to me like the feeling was mutual,” muttered Jeff from underneath the blanket.
“No this guy is fucked up. Trust me, I’m a big girl. As a rule I’m not scared of any guy. But you’ve seen those old drug movies they showed us in junior high. I could have emptied my nine into him and he still would have still been walking around moaning, ‘Please take me back’. Imagine Michael Myers on meth. That’s what this guy is. Was that you up there talking to him?”
“Yeah, wiry guy flinging his entire body against your door? Yes, I believe we met,” I said.
“What did you tell him?” she asked.
“I told him that us tax paying, respectable folk didn’t appreciate the likes of him filling our sugar plumb dreams with that horrendous wailing and banging. It was about that time your big black neighbor from across the hall stuck his head out and started laying down the gospel. He left after that,” I said.
“That’s sweet. Andre is cool. He’s another guy I wouldn’t want to go head to head with. He used to play defensive end for LSU. So, is anyone thirsty, I bought Cuervo at the store earlier before asshole started bothering me.”
“No Cuervo,” moaned Jeff from underneath the blanket. He finally sat up. “I don’t know about you two but my stomach is feeling fucked up,” he said.
“Week-long drinking binges seem to have that effect on people,” I said.
“No, I mean my stomach feels fucked up dude,” he said.
“I fell asleep when I went home for a little while,” said Meg. “After I kicked you two out, sorry bout that fat boy. But anyway, I woke up and my stomach was killing me. Hasn’t really felt right since. Bad cramps. I went back down to the pool and swam a few laps. It didn’t really help. I’m glad I went down there though. I’d left my cordless phone down there.”
“I’m about to go lay some serious turdage,” said Jeff. “So chick, if you need to take care of any feminine needs in the bathroom I’d strongly advise you to do so now.”
“I’m good,” she said. “No wait, I better pee. I have serious bladder problems,” she told me as she walked past, towards the bathroom.
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” I told Jeff as she closed the bathroom door. I held up her cordless phone to Jeff and said, “Do you remember this thing?”
He started laughing uncontrollably and cackled, “I still say we should’ve ordered pizza for her.”
She walked back into the living room and asked defensively, “What’s so fucking funny?”
“Nothing,” I said, bursting out into laughter. “We were just commenting on your phone collection here.”
“That’s what he kept saying. That he kept calling and a guy kept picking up. Probably one of those little fat kids that are always at the pool.”
Jeff stood up, wearing only boxers now and the same stained wife beater undershirt. He walked past us on the way to the bathroom and said, “Or just one big fat boy who might have been walking by when the phone rang. Oh yeah, I got something for you Meg,” he said, grabbing one of his ass cheeks and farting loudly.
“That’s disgusting,” she said.
He managed to shoot off, “What, your crotch is disgusting ?” before shutting the door to the bathroom.
“What was that supposed to mean?” she asked. “Did that asshole answer my phone or something?”
Damn she could be a sharp one sometimes. I knew, at that moment, that she was going to require full attention at all times. She was, after all a bratty four year old, trapped in the body of a thirty year old woman.
“How could he answer your phone? We were in a state of extreme panic and fear. After you pulled the knife on us we pretty much called it a night.”
“Am I going to have to hear about this for the rest of my life?” she asked.
“Well, it was a bit extreme,” I said.
Jeff wandered out of the bathroom and said, “I wouldn’t go in there for a while.” He took a fast left into the kitchen and said, “So what did you bring us to drink?”
“Tequila,” she said. “I hate to even admit this to you guys because your ego’s are already too large for their own good but I had fun today. I haven’t lived like this in a long time.”
“Well, you better strap in then,” I warned her. “We’ve been at this for a month now.”
Jeff shot me a disapproving glance.
I was sprawled out in one of my kitchen chairs, in front of my kitchen table and computer area. She glanced up at my computer and asked, “Are you online?”
“Not at this moment, why?” I asked.
“I need to check my email, can you log on for me?”
I went ahead and hesitantly logged on careful to make sure she didn’t see me type in my password. I’d seen her in action with Jeff’s pager number. I wasn’t going to take any chances. I got up and let her take over the captain’s chair.
I wandered into the cramped kitchen where Jeff was cooking a hotdog and mixing a vodka and 7-Up. I was surprised and grateful to see that the entire gallon of vodka was almost still intact. All of our fifths of rum though had taken a severe beating and if we were hitting the road tomorrow they were going to be much needed travel companions.
I ended up just opening the Cuervo and drinking from the bottle.
By the time I had wandered back into the living room she had logged off and Jeff had re-taken his position on the couch. It was then that I longed so for just one day away from them.
She’d only been around for a day, and that was almost enough. Jeff, on the other hand had been holed up here for close to three weeks. I needed a night alone, night of peace; the freeze of my air-conditioning vents cranked at 40, the silence of my own breath, a bowl of Captain Crunch and a sleazy Cinamex late-night soft-core porn.
I wasn’t used to this kind of non-stop, free-wheeling self-abuse. Unfortunately, I didn’t see an end to it any night soon.
Jeff had turned the volume back on the TV and was flipping channels.
“Mmm, Little House on the Prairie. Their mom was such a babe.”
“Hey fat boy,” said Meg. (As if anyone else would have) “Are you still looking for coke?”
“There’s an idea,” I said. “Time to roll a joint.”
“Coke, what’s that?” asked Jeff condescendingly.
“Oh you know, the white substance you were ready to either kill or die for last night,” she said.
“Call them up, I’m cashing a check tomorrow,” he said.
“I have it now. My ex roommate stilled owed me some money for bills. She paid me in coke.”
“That’s what ex roommates are for,” I said, unzipping my freezer bag full of weed.
“Holy shit,” she said. “How much weed is that?”
“A few ounces,” I said. “Why, you’ve never seen this much before?”
“I have its just I thought you guys were out or something. That’s why I got you stoned, with my last joint today.”
“What are you rambling on about woman, I’ll do a line. Set me up,” said Jeff.
She unzipped her gym bag and pulled out a small mirror. She opened a black plastic film-holder and dumped a little out and asked if I had a razor.
“No,” I said. “No more sharp objects for you.”
“No,” said Jeff. “This is who you’re visiting. I’m not trying to sound like a dick but you do not live here.”
“Either do you,” I reminded him. “Remember.”
“Fuck you,” he said.
“What, am I interrupting some sort of man love thing here?” she asked, laughing.
“No,” said Jeff, as she cut the coke into lines. “It’s just we’re leaving town in the morning.”
I try not to be captivated by anyone, at least, not by wild, crazed pool chicks with bladder problems.
That mere fact alone excluded her from any extensive road travel with us. But at that moment, in that one frozen instant in time, as she bent down and snorted the first two lines she had laid out, I knew again that I had to have her. She jerked her head back, losing her baseball cap. She shook her head almost like a lion would shake its mane out. I knew she was a beast. But I also knew I was wildly, madly in love with her. Maybe not in a classic sense; there were no stars or fireworks. I wasn’t stupid. I knew she had more baggage than Greyhound. But I simply didn’t give a fuck. I’d stick with her, I’d let her hang around. She was a hell of a lot prettier than Jeff. Like they say though, good things rarely ever last. In this particular instant, as with most particular instances with her, the captivation ended once she spoke.
“Leaving town, where to?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” said Jeff. “but if we told you we really, really, really would have to kill you.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll just do the rest of these lines by myself.”
“She doesn’t play fair,” I said.
“Freak of nature, we’re just going to my mom’s in
“So, you said you owned a gun?” I asked her.
“I have a whole gun collection. It’s at my parent’s house though,” she said. “Dad and I aren’t speaking, again. Mom, well she’s always Mom. Only gun I have with me is the nine. I keep it under the seat. I’m glad I didn’t have it tonight. I probably would have just shot him through the door.”
I did my lines and she poured lines out for all of us again. I rolled a fat joint and lit it. I had regained my place in the captain’s chair. Jeff was manning the sofa as usual. Meg was laying on the floor, watching herself blow smoke-rings from the joint.
“Really, where are you guys going? I don’t want to stay here this weekend. I want to go take my boat out,” she said.
Again, Jeff’s eyes got wide and he perked up.
“Where is this yacht of yours now?” he asked her.
“In
I could tell by his hyped up by, well, whatever it is that’s hyped up by coke use, that he was about to blow it.
He blurted out, “We may be leaving for
I wanted to slap him, as a sharp reminder that it was him, not me, that had been so adamant about her not joining our little excursion. It was too late though, the coke was taking grip quickly.
“I want to go,” she said.
“You got money?” asked Jeff. “I’m only getting 300 from my savings account and this broke ass bastard just paid his rent. Plus we’re going in his truck. No room for more than two people.”
“I’ll follow in my car,” she said.
“But do you have money?” he asked again. “Oh yeah, I forgot you can pay a measly $1400 dollar ticket if you get it.”
“I have the cash,” she said.
“What about the boat?” he asked. “We really have to go to
“That’s cool,” she said. “We could actually park in
“I really don’t have that much shit and I don’t want the responsibility of driving someone else’s vehicle. We’re leaving in the morning. It’s up to you. If you want to follow the caravan be up, dressed, packed and ready to roll by nine,” he said.
“Its close to eight now,” I said.
It was true. I don’t know where the time went but the sun was out and the birds were chirping.
“Okay, make it two,” said Jeff, pulling the blanket over his head.
“Goodnight,” he warned us. “Two is going to roll around quick and bite you on your asses if you don’t deal with it.”
]
