Chapter Two - Her
I was rudely awakened by Jeff, as he dripped an ice-cube on me. The first thing I saw was his belly jiggling. The second thing I saw was him holding the entire plastic pitcher of orange juice.
“Cut it out fag boy,” I said. “Besides, what are you trying to do get us arrested? If anyone sees you they’ll be hell to pay.”
“Fuck’em if they can’t take a joke,” he said.
“Is that just juice in there still?” I asked,
“Nope. A little half and half,” he said, with a smirk on his face. “I am going to take it easy today though. Man, when did you get rabbit meat?” he stammered.
“Rabbit meat?” I asked dumbly. “I didn’t buy any rabbit meat.”
“Get the fuck out. You’re fucking with me right?”
“No, really. I’m not,” I lied.
“Oh fuck, I bet I got drunk and went and bought it. It’s weird though. I
had a dream I was in that fucking Tom Petty video.”
“What, Free Falling?” I chuckled.
“No, Don’t Come Around Here No More. You know with all the
big covered platter. It was rabbit. The most succulent, juiciest tasty treat you ever wanted to lay eyes on. Well, you know me. I took a huge Jeff-bite and all of a sudden it wasn’t rabbit meat but that rabbit in the video. And he attacked me. He had these huge fucking fangs. It was a nightmare. I remember getting up to piss though and thinking, ‘Damn, rabbit sounds good’. And now I’m awake and there’s rabbit meat in the fridge. I’ve got to get out of this town,” he said.
I finally started laughing and confessed to my early-morning shopping
spree.
“Man, you really had me going for a second,” he said. “Its bad enough I don’t know what the fuck I did last night but mystery rabbit just suddenly appearing. I thought someone I might have pissed off last night snuck in your apartment and put it there to fuck with me. I think we should cook those fuckers. Make some crazy shit. Invent a rabbit etoufee dish or something. You ever cooked rabbit before?”
“Nope but it can’t be that hard. Look up a recipe on the Internet or something. We could make that jerk marinade and just grill the fucker out here.”
“Have you ever used that mango butter sauce on chicken before?”
“No, just shrimp. Probably wouldn’t be bad on chicken or rabbit though.”
I said.
He took an enormous gulp from the pitcher of screwdriver mix and set it
down. He pulled a joint from his shirt pocket and asked for my lighter.
“You can’t light that thing up out here,” I said.
“No shit, just go into that little bathroom by the barbecue pit when I walk out. I’ll leave it on the sink.”
He vanished into the bathroom and I poured another rum and coke. I was a
bit sunburned from falling asleep.
Meanwhile, the summer party mixed tape blared.
It was an endless and jangled melody of tunes that didn’t quite all belong
together on one tape. The tape was comprised of such songs as Deeper Shade of Soul by Urban Dance Squad; the Lime and Coconut song by God knows who, What I Got and Santaria by Sublime; Tomorrow Wendy and Joey by Concrete Blond; two or three War songs including Low Rider; Get Up, Stand Up, No Woman No Cry, Stir it Up and Jammin’ by Bob Marley; Crash by Dave Matthews Band; as well as a few sleepers like State of Confusion by The Kinks and Up All Night by the Boomtown Rats. Even Billy Idol had a cameo on the tape with Dancing With Myself. The clincher though was White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane, which was randomly dispersed in three spots on the tape.
With afterthought, it was the perfect montage of songs to have as a soundtrack as we plunged headlong into a summer binge of booze and drugs.
Jeff was in the poolside bathroom for what seemed like hours but he finally
ambled out and said, “I left a big turd for you fella.”
Unfortunately, the swine wasn’t lying. There was a big huge pile of greasy
slop floating on the top of the toilet water like some alien oil slick. I flushed it and took a huge hit off the joint. The bastard was lucky it didn’t stink much. I finished my half the joint and walked out.
Jeff was just belly-flopping into the pool. I downed the remnants of my
drink and poured another before getting into the pool.
The sun was so blinding I didn’t really see her until she was almost in
our faces. She was lugging her own cooler filled with beer. I shaded my eyes
with my hand and looked up at her.
She said hi to me and then to Jeff, “What’s up fat boy? Do you remember
me?”
Jeff was just emerging from underwater when she said this.
“That voice, oh my god it’s her. It’s you,” he said wiping his eyes. “God
help us all.”
“Fuck you, “ she said with a devilish giggle. “I don’t like your friend,”
she said to me.
“Most days either do I,” I said. “But today’s a good day”
“I don’t care if its Christmas, I still don’t like him,” she said. “He’s rude. He’s gross look at his gut.”
I almost began to sort of feel sorry for him.
His reply was, “You’re not exactly a supermodel either. Looks like you’ve hit one too many of those Jenny Craig snack packs.”
“Fuck you bastard,” she said icily.
“Fuck you bitch,” he said. “What the fuck did I ever do to you?”
“You exist,” she said.
“Be nice,” he said. “We’re just chilling out trying to enjoy ourselves.”
“I don’t have to be anything,” she said. She looked at me and said, “I’m a bitch.”
“Yeah, a bitch pushing maximum density,” said Jeff.
“I don’t even hear you fat boy. You don’t even exist,” she said, as she dived underwater and swam a lap.
“This is what she was like last night,” he said. “Actually she’s a little bit more civil today. She’s wearing me out though right now.”
“I like her,” I said.
“You would,” he replied.
She emerged from underwater at the far end of the pool. She pulled herself out of the water and walked back around near us. She paused near our ice chest and asked if she could make a rum and coke.
“It’s up to Jeff,” I lied. “He bought it.”
“If it’s his I’ll just fucking take it then,” she said.
“I was kidding. It really is mine.”
“I don’t care, I’ll still fucking take it,” she said challengingly.
I merely shrugged, turned around and yanked one of her beers from her ice
chest and opened it.
“Help yourself,” she said. “Me casa su casa.”
With this, Jeff grabbed one as well.
“I didn’t say you fat boy. Put it back.”
He pulled the top, took a swig and flipped her off.
“In your wildest dreams do you wish you could fuck me asshole,” she said.
“No, in my wildest dreams I wish I could fucking strangle you,” he corrected her.
“I’d snap your fat ass in a heartbeat. I was in the Army. You saw what I did to that asshole that fucked with me last night. If you want to be next in line just keep fucking with me,” she warned, jumping back into the pool.
“Jesus,” muttered Jeff. “I need another joint to cope with this.”
“I have weed,” she blurted out. “We’ll smoke in a little while. I just smoked one before I came down here so I’m not ready yet. So what’s your name?” she asked me.
“Brett,” I said.
“I’m Meg,” she said. “Just Meg. Hey fat boy, what’s your name?” she asked, as Jeff climbed out of the pool.
He took a swig from his pitcher and sang, “My name is Gino, Gino Latino,
Love music all night long.”
“You’re fucking retarded too. Really, what’s your name?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teased.
“Honestly I couldn’t care less. Fat boy works just fine for me,” she said.
“Nooooo,” he said sarcastically, “I can tell you really wanted to know. You still do. You’re an inquisitive soul. Ill-mannered, foul-mouthed, spoiled, bitchy and essentially that of pure evil; but also inquisitive. Just admit you want to know and maybe I’ll tell you.”
“I’m not admitting shit to you fat boy. You don’t fucking know me,” she said, turning to me.
“Tell me what his name is,” she commanded me.
Jeff laughed at her mockingly and said, “Case in point, you just admitted you wanted to know my name by asking Brett. By the way, I’m Jeff.”
“Typical,” she muttered. “You look like a fucking Jeff. Like that little
bastard from the cereal commercial. Hey, let’s get Jeffy he’ll eat anything.”
“I think that was Mikey,” I corrected her and she rolled her eyes at me, disgusted.
“Least I’m not Meg,” he said, seriously veering from his previous attack strategy. “Meg. Meg. Meg Ryan. Hey Meg, how many megs do you have in that hard drive.”
“Fuck you,” she said.
“Brett, I’m going to go start that marinade. You deal with the beast.”
“Its not even
He just grabbed the pitcher, flickered his tongue at her and retreated
from the area.
Left alone with her, I was suddenly very nervous. With Jeff gone, what if she got bored and started in on me? Up to this point it had been funny because Jeff had been the object of her ire. I was on her good side, or at least irrelevant. I wanted to keep it that way. I began neutrally enough.
“You lived here long?” I asked.
“About two years. I’m in graduate school now.”
“No offense but you seemed a little older than most of the people that live here.”
“So do you,” she said, helping herself to another rum and coke. “I’m 30, well I will be next week,” she said.
“I’ll be 30 in August,” I said. “I graduate then too.”
“Ask me if I care,” she said.
The suddenness and subtlety of her attack almost made me choke on my sip of rum and coke. I was dumbfounded. There really wasn’t anything for me to say but, “Do you care?”
“Nope.”
“Well that makes two of us then,” I said.
“I’m glad we understand each other then,” she said. “I told you I was a bitch,” she said, giggling as she pulled her hair from the pony-tail.
She took another huge swig of rum and coke and then opened one of her beers. She opened and handed me one as well and added, “But I can also be the sweetest
woman on the face of the planet. But I’m still a bitch. Keep an eye on my stuff, I have to run up and use the phone,” she said, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around herself.
There was no arguing the fact. She was a bitch. And the “sweetest woman
on the face of the planet thing” I’m sure, was a psychotic self-delusion.
No, this woman was truly bent. I mean, we all have issues. This woman had an
epic mini-series though. There was no doubt in my mind that she was a dangerous sociopath. I’d seen women like her before. They’re the kind of women that can walk into a bar and have the whole place fighting for their honor inside of twenty minutes. The kind of woman who drinks on your tab all night and then turns around and just leaves without so much as a “fuck you” or “goodbye”.
A modern day Helen of Troy with a streak of Medea in her.
She was still pleasant to look at. Her skin was clear, tan and smooth. Her hair was sandy blonde. She still looked pretty good in a bikini, but as Jeff had said, those days were rapidly coming to an end and she knew it. And she was bitter about it. Somewhere out there were probably a few fools she had broken and destroyed in her heyday. At some point in her not so distant past she had been hot. She could still pull it off on good days but her rudeness only served to isolate her, rather than attract people to her like
it maybe once had.
She was a beast. She was a bratty, cruel, 4 year old child trapped in the body of a 29 year old woman. She drank and swore like a man. She acted and reacted like a wild animal, cute and loveable one second, taking a chunk out of your hand the next. In short, a savage brute.
She was everything in a woman I didn’t want. Definitely not the kind of woman you take home to mother. Or to the local town restaurant either if you wanted to just go eat a peaceful meal with no incident. She could probably play the role elegantly for a few hours. But she’d eventually say or do something that would just appall everybody. She was a loose cannon. She was rude, crude and socially unacceptable.
I knew I had to have her, which put me in a decidedly precarious position.
I quickly dismissed the thought when she returned with her cordless phone
in one hand and lit joint in the other asking, “Where’s fat boy? Still eating?”
Did these people want to get arrested?
“Go to that bathroom to do that,” I said.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said.
“Fine, go to jail. I’ll just say I don’t know you,” I said.
She mulled this over and said, “Okay, good point. Come with.”
“What?” I asked.
“Come in there with me,” she said, setting her phone and towel down. I hesitantly got out of the pool and followed her into the cramped, tiny bathroom. She locked the door and re-lit the joint. “What are you looking at?” she asked defensively.
“I was looking at your eyes, sorry.”
“Oh, I hate them. You’re shaking. Are you scared of me?” she asked.
“Honestly,” I asked as I hit the joint.
“Yes.”
“Well honestly you scare the living shit out of me,” I said.
“But you still want me anyway don’t you,” she said. “It’s okay a lot of men do,” she said.
“Add blatant vanity to the character profile,” I said.
“It’s not vanity. I can just tell when a guy wants me. This is a college town full of twenty year old hormonal guys. I’m bound to attract every now and then. And when I do I can just tell. You’ve never done that before?”
“What?” I ask.
“Just be able to know; to be able to tell when a woman just wanted to fuck
the living shit out of you.”
“Maybe once or twice,” I finally replied.
“There you go then. You’re just as vain as me,” she said.
I had nothing to win and nothing to lose. I don’t know if it was the weed or her direct sexual frankness but I finally looked up at her and asked,
“Why, do you want to fuck the living shit out of me?”
She looked at me, laughed and said flatly, “Maybe once or twice.”
“You still scare the living shit out of me,” I said.
“Good,” she said, stepping closer and kissing me.
“Only once or twice,” I asked.
“Maybe three times,” she said as she grabbed my dick. “Finger me,” she
said.
I pulled the crotch of her bikini aside. She was shaved. I don’t know why that surprised me but it did. Her whole body shuddered as I slid my index and middle finger into her.
Not only was she a dangerous psychopath, but from the looks of it she was also sex-starved. I began wondering how she came to this end; thirty, sex starved, drinking rum with strangers by the pool and then fucking them in a public poolside rest-room. Probably the exact same way I had almost become thirty, sex starved drinking rum with
strangers by the pool and fucking them in a public poolside rest-room. It was food for thought. I was rubbing her clit and she was close to coming when she finally stopped.
“What?” I asked.
“Just stop. I don’t want to in here.”
I was relieved to know that at least one of us had some morals left. It was just dismaying that the one us who did also happened to be a psychopath.
“If you really need to come I’ll go down on you. I just don’t want to fuck
in here. I’m not even sure I want to fuck. Don’t worry its not you. I’d rather just drink right now,” she said. “Its just I haven’t in a while. It felt good, real good. I’m afraid I might flip out though.”
“No. Don’t worry about going down on me. I never come that way anyway.
It’s okay, I think I’d rather just drink right now too,” I said, actually
meaning it.
She re-adjusted the crotch of her bikini, picked up her drink and opened
the door. I followed her back out into the blinding sunshine.
I was glad to see Jeff hadn’t returned. Or had he? What if he had heard us
in the bathroom? No, if he had I’m sure he would’ve pounded on the door and
yelled police. Or just walked out, not seen us and assumed we’d gone up to her apartment to get stoned.
You would think that after what transpired in the bathroom that there would
have been some sense of awkwardness in the conversation. But there wasn’t,
at least not from her end.
She slipped back into the conversation almost as if nothing had happened. It
sort of irked me. More than anything though, I was irked because it did irk
me.
“Where is fat boy?” she asked.
“For someone that hates him so much you sure do seem to miss him,” I
said.
“He amuses me,” she said. “Sort of like you but in a different way. He’s lucky he didn’t get his ass kicked last night,” she said.
“Yeah, what exactly did he do last night?”
“Well, I had come home from being out with friends. Fat boy was out there talking to these two big huge black guys. They looked like steroid freaks. Anyway, your friend was out there telling, no demanding, that they go get him some crack. We brought him in with us before they could hurt him though. And then he seemed okay. He just laid on the sofa for a while. But he got up and started freaking out again. I was wasted myself. I punched the guy that was bothering me and Jeff started a bunch of shit. I had to almost mace him before he finally left.”
The story was horrid enough and it didn’t even include mention of skater guys or our landlord’s nephew. How long had he been outside socializing with the apartment complex? It could only have been as long as it took me to go pick up the weed. Shit, how long had I been gone?
Jeff wandered back out carrying a plate and a bag of charcoal.
“Fat boy’s ready to eat,” said Meg.
“Fat boy’s going to put a smack-down on you if you don’t shut the fuck up,” he replied, flipping her off.
“What’s up dude?” I asked, getting out of the pool and walking over to the grill.
“Nothing, just talked to my lawyer. That was a sobering experience.”
“What did he say?”
“Its official, there’s a warrant out for my arrest.”
“Oh god,” I muttered. “Over a fucking traffic shit?”
“Yep. Guess it’s what you get when you don’t pay your fines or even show
up for the court date,” he said. “It is so fucking stupid though when you think about it. I don’t even have my car anymore.”
This was true. His engine had blown up a week ago. It didn’t help to ease the tension though. This party was going from bad to worse with each passing moment. My temporary room-mate was now wanted by the law and I was having sex, well almost, in public bathrooms. How much further down the evolutionary ladder could I possibly slide in one day?
“So what did your lawyer say?”
“He said I’m fucked.”
“He used those exact words?”
“Pretty much so. Told me to lay low, get all the money for all the fines and then get in touch with him and he’d accompany me when I have to pay it so they don’t shoot me on sight,” he said. “How the fuck am I going to get that kind of money?”
“How much money fat boy?” asked Meg, intruding on our conversation.
“More money than you have,” said Jeff.
“I’m rich,” she said, giggling that annoying, precocious giggle again.
“Whatever you say Jenny Craig,” said Jeff, truly pissed this go round.
“How old are you?”
“30 asshole,” she said.
“Well look, I don’t know who the fuck you’re trying to fucking kid. Or
who the fuck you think you are. The fact of the matter is that you’re a thirty year old woman, living in the biggest, cheapest dump in town, drinking rum and acting like a rude-ass bitch. If you even had a penny you wouldn’t be living here so don’t give me that ‘I’m rich’ shit because I don’t care. You know what, I don’t care if you are rich. As of today I am a fucking fugitive of the law, so please, spare me the bullshit.”
“Are you quite finished?” she asked him.
For a moment I thought he was going to lunge at her. He definitely flinched enough to have drawn an offside penalty.
“If you want to hit me go for it. I will fuck you up,” she said.
“You’re not even fucking worth it,” he told her.
“Okay kids, so what do we have to grill,” I said, trying to cool things
down.
“I misspoke before,” she said.
“Excuse me? Are you speaking to me?” asked Jeff.
“Yes. I misspoke before. I was rich. My parents cut me off though. I still get alimony and I do have a trust fund. A boat too. It was my ex-husbands. He loved that boat more than he loved me, that’s why I made damn sure I got it in the divorce,” she said.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” said Jeff. “You seem like a cold bitch. And a spoiled little rich girl.”
“Whatever,” she said. “You still never said how much you owed.”
“About fourteen hundred. Why am I even telling you this?” he muttered.
“Well I just wanted to say you were right. I am almost thirty and I do
live in a piece of shit apartment. But everything I own now, except the boat, I worked for and bought on my own. And you know what? If I had a little piss ass traffic fine I know I could pay it off instead of standing here all day and whining about it to my friends. Just think about that the next time you even dare fucking judge me,” she said.
“That’s the most balls to the wall thing you’ve said all day,” Jeff said. “I didn’t have a problem with you until you started ragging me out for no reason.”
“I still hate you,” she said, turning away and walking back to her ice-chest.
I breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Shit for a second there I thought
you were going to punch her.”
“Me too,” he said, as he fired up the grill. “She just doesn’t know when to stop.”
“Hey, I’m not arguing with you,” I said.
“She’s got an ass that doesn’t quit too. Just may be her only redeemable
quality,” he muttered.
It was maddening. One moment you wanted to choke the living shit out of
her, the next you almost felt sorry for her, like right then. She was sitting alone between the two ice-chests with her feet in the water. She knew she’d fucked up; that she’d pushed the envelope a little too far with the fat boy stuff. And now she sat there alone, pouting like an impetuous child.
She finally got up, grabbed both ice-chests and walked over to the picnic table where we had all our shit. She handed me a beer and then said, “Jeff, do you need a drink?”
“No thanks,” he said. “I’m good.”
She looked defeated, as if every amount of fight had drained from her. It was almost poignant. It would have been had I not been sure this entire routine had just been orchestrated for our benefit. But, on the other hand, if she truly wanted to make peace then I was grateful for the peace and quiet.
“So, what are you grilling anyway?” she asked.
“Rabbit,” said Jeff.
“Isn’t that supposed to like be in a stew or something?” she asked.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a pill for your condition?” he said with a
laugh. “I’m just kidding, god.”
“Well its not funny. Mental illness is nothing to joke about,” she said
flatly.
“So, you’re on something?” he asked.
“I was. I was on a whole bunch of shit. I threw it all out though a month
ago.”
I could tell Jeff wanted to throw in a ’so that explains it’ but just as
the words began to form he let it drop. I was surprised and proud of his
restraint.
“Do you feel better since you threw everything out?” I asked, not really
sure what to say, but also wanting the conversation to flow without
argument.
“I do and don’t. I freak without the medication. But at least I don’t have that drugged, sedated feeling. The mood swings have evened out though some,” she said.
“I think I’m manic depressive sometimes,” said Jeff.
“Do you do a lot of coke,” she asked. “You wouldn’t shut up about it last
night. That can cause a lot of manic depressive-like symptoms.”
“Actually, I haven’t lately. Unless I scored last night and just don’t
remember it,” he said.
We sat there and continued to talk on in relative peace. There was the
occasional ‘fat boy’, ‘bitch’, and ‘fuck you’ exchanged but nothing that warranted concern or an ambulance. We drank and exchanged stories. She actually complimented Jeff on the rabbit. Dusk had fallen and there we all were, still outside drinking by the
pool. I couldn’t believe it was already nearing nightfall.
I laughed and told Jeff, “You better be careful, all our neighbors
should be coming home soon.”
“Jesus,” he muttered. “I’ve really got to get out of this town.”
“Then leave,” said Meg.
He merely rolled his eyes at her and looked at me and said, “Oh shit, I
forgot to tell you. Someone about a job called when I was on the phone with
my lawyer.”
“Oh, that’s real good I said. Did this someone have a name?” I asked.
“Yes. I wrote the message down. He said he was about to leave for the day
anyway, and for you to just call him in the morning.”
“Work with me here dude, did he say where he was from? I’ve got a
shitload of resumes out right now. Think, either a newspaper or magazine.
The area code wasn’t local.”
It really didn’t help to narrow things down so I stood up carefully and began stumbling back to the apartment. It took a few moments but I finally found the note. It was illegible so I hauled it and my phonebook out to the pool with me. I asked Jeff to translate at least the area code.
“904,” he said.
I hunted it down and it was a
of resumes but couldn’t remember sending any to
“Did he say who he was with?” I asked frantically.
“I said some magazine. Just chill out. Call him in the morning.”
“This fucking sucks,” I said, pouring another drink.
“I really don’t see the problem,” said Jeff.
“You don’t see the problem? What are you, retarded? First of all you tell
me about this hours after the fact. Then I can barely read your handwriting.
And you tell me you don’t see the problem.”
“Look,” said Meg. “Is there anything you can do about it tonight?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Well, for gods sakes let it drop,” she said.
I did but I wasn’t all too happy about it.
“So you said you had a boat,” Jeff said.
“Yep.”
“Where at?” he asked.
“At the dock.”
“Ha ha, funny. Really, where is it?” he asked.
“I’m serious. Its at the dock.”
“What dock? There isn’t even any water around here.”
“On the
“Must be a big boat,” he said.
“It is pretty big. I really don’t know how big. I know we sailed it to
the islands once,” she said.
“
“Yes, we sailed it to
Even I perked up at this little tidbit of information.
“You never use it?” Jeff asked.
“Are you writing a fucking book?” she asked.
“Be nice,” he said.
“Fuck you, don’t tell me how to act.”
“So its just sitting there? You don’t use it?”
“No, I’ve been thinking about selling it,” she said.
“Wait a second, let me get this right. You have a boat that you went to
“I didn’t want the fucking thing. I just wanted him to not have it,” she said.
“My only question is why are we sitting here. Lets go take it out,” said Jeff.
“Fuck you, I don’t even know you,” she said. “I don’t even like you. I hate you and you want me to take you out on my boat?” she asked, slurring her words at this point.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said. “You take an end of the boat and I’ll take one end. We don’t even have to talk to each other. But yes, lets take it for a spin.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but okay,” she said.
This was getting out of hand. Someone had to slap them both out of their delusional states. I knew that we’d all go home, pass out and forget all about any journey to the
However, the more they discussed this ludicrous idea the less ludicrous it sounded. It was actually plausible. I got up and wandered back to my apartment. I was tired and I had had enough for one day. Just as I rounded the corner thought, I saw my landlord knocking on my door. I spun back around the corner just in time to avoid his glance.
I jogged back to the pool and said, “Fun times over dude. The hammer has
dropped. We have to hide.”
“What are you babbling about?” he asked.
“The landlord’s at my doorstep now pounding on the door.”
“Oh fuck,” said Jeff, with a true look of fear on his face.
I began to run one way but realized he’d probably round that corner first. He was probably on the way out here to the pool. I opted for the other direction, grabbing one of the ice-chests. Jeff grabbed the other ice-chest and Meg grabbed the phonebook, and her stuff. We ran like banshee’s, taking a quick left and then a quicker right until we were in the parking lot on the other side of the complex.
“What do you think he wants?” asked Jeff.
“What the fuck do you think he wanted? Probably to serve me an eviction
notice,” I said.
“He tried to evict me once and I threatened to take him to court because
he didn’t have sufficient grounds,” said Meg. “Fuck him.”
“Oh no,” I said. “I’m not going to get fucking evicted. I’ve never been evicted. I’ve always been a good tenant. I only had one person ever complain about noise and they were total fucking hicks any way. God knows what this fool did last night. Oh Christ,” I moaned.
“Well we can’t just stand out here all night,” said Jeff. “Go get your
truck dude.”
“Fuck that you go,” I said fumbling for my keys. “Oh shit, the keys are
in the apartment.”
Meg motioned for us to follow her. We did. She led us to a rear stairwell
I had forgotten about. We made it up the stairs but there was still a tricky part. We still had to walk the entire length of the pool area along the walkway, which would put us in plain view to anyone by the pool area. We slowly walked out. I put my arm around Meg and let her take the side closest to the handrail and Jeff hoisted one of the Ice-chests upon his shoulder so no one could get a view of his face.
We walked quickly and quietly. About halfway through, Meg whispered, “Don’t
look but he’s right down there. Just keep walking.”
We made the walkway and rounded a corner. Meg opened the door to her apartment and we all filed in.
“That was too fucking close for comfort,” said Jeff.
“Look,” said Meg, “I don’t know what the fuck you two are into and you know what, I really don’t care. But I want you both out now,” she said, grabbing a butcher knife from her kitchen.
“Whoa, wait a second,” I said. “Its just us. Remember? Beers, rum and cokes, weed and rabbit. You know we’re cool,” I said, stepping towards her.
“Back up now or I’ll fucking scream,” she said. “Now look, it was fun. But get the fuck out.”
Jeff and I backed up slowly and she slammed the door and locked it once we
crossed the doorway.
“Now what dude?” he asked me.
“We have to get back into my apartment. Come on,” I said.
I led him down the front stairwell and the around to the outside of my apartment, avoiding the hallway and my back door. Luckily the front door was unlocked. We slipped in and locked both doors. Jeff killed the lights and turned the TV on with the volume down. We were hunkered down in the shadows like scared roaches.
“What the fuck was that?” Jeff asked.
“Fuck if I know. I knew she was bent but I didn’t dream this would happen.”
“We have to get her,” said Jeff.
“What?” I asked, not even wanting to hear him utter those terrible words
again.
“We have to get her. If we don’t she’s going to call the cops on us.”
“No, you idiot, if we try to get her she’ll definitely call the cops. We have to just settle down and sleep. Don’t answer the phone or the door.”
“Right, like I can sleep with all this shit going on,” Jeff said.
Just then the phone rang.
“See, I told you. She’s probably already ratted us out?”
Something was odd though. Off. It didn’t sound like my phone. There was a
clear and simple reason why it didn’t. It wasn’t my phone ringing. It was her cordless. We rummaged through the pile of towels and t-shirts until it fell to the floor.
“Answer it,” he said.
“What if she has another phone in her apartment? What if she’s on it now?”
“Just click in,” he said.
“No, she’ll hear.”
“Can you hook her cordless up to your modem? Just log in and her phone
will be jammed all night.”
“Not without her base. And then it would just be on my jack, still my
number. We could just call her. If she has another phone besides this one,”
I said.
“How?”
I turned her phone on. Luckily all I got was a dial tone. I called myself and let it ring a few times. I hung up her phone, picked up my own and dialed star 69. Sure enough, the mechanical voice spit out her number in a matter of seconds. I wrote it down.
“Now, we can call her.”
“What if she has caller ID?” he asked.
“Star 67 blocks it,” I said.
“Ok, what do we tell her if we do call and she answers? I’m over her
stupid ass if you really want to know the truth.”
The phone, her phone, rang again.
“See what I mean? Every time she gets a call so do we.”
“Give me that,” he said, snatching her phone out of my hand. “Hello,” he
answered. “No, she’s not in right now. Well, I’m sorry. She stepped out. Who am I? Who the fuck are you asshole? I’ll tell you who I am, I’m your worst fucking nightmare mother fucker,” Jeff yelled hanging up the phone laughing. “Oh god that was too classic. That dude didn’t know what to say. This thing had pretty decent range on it, unlike all the pieces of shit we always had in my house. If we really wanted to keep her from making calls we could just leave this phone on, with the connection open.”
“It’ll eventually die though when the batteries wear out,” I said.
“We don’t need much time. Just enough time to pack up a few things and
hit the road. We’ll be on the road and her phone will be in a ditch somewhere before she knows what the fuck happened.”
“No fucking way. We wouldn’t even make it out of the complex parking lot
without getting a DWI. Did I tell you I almost got arrested last night when I met my niece?”
“Where at?”
“In Time Saver’s parking lot. The last thing I need is to get pulled over for drunk driving by the same cops. They gave me explicit directions to not drive like a fucking asshole,” I said.
“So we’re stuck here?” he asked, suddenly beginning to grasp the gravity of our situation.
“Yes, it looks like we are.”
“That’s kind of fucked up,” he said.
“Very fucked up,” I agreed
