Summers

It was pretty much the best weather the City had all summer. I went for a run. That was nice. I showered and got back out into the sun as fast as I could. The trip down to Kelly’s place was amazing. I was going to take the bus, but the weather was too good to miss out on. I walked briskly, switching to the shady side of the street when I got too warm. My iPod was blasting RJD2 and I had a bounce in my step.
When I got to her place, she answered the door wearing shorts and a bikini top and drinking a beer. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders and her sun freckles looked like they had multiplied since the last time I saw her.
Her face was serious and calm. She slid the bottle of beer over her breast and whispered, “It took you forever to get over here. I almost gave up on you.” She held out the bottle and I took it.
“Sorry, I walked over.” I took a swig as she removed her bikini top and tossed it over her shoulder.
One of her neighbors wandered past her apartment towards the laundry room. If they saw her, they didn’t say anything.
Kelly turned and her slim hips swayed languidly as she moved down the hallway towards the bedroom. I followed her, watching as she removed her shorts and kicked them away. She was like a dancer – fluid and graceful. Her thong was next. She leaned against the bedroom door and slid it down her legs. “Come in. Close the door. Make yourself comfortable.” She turned and ran a finger over her small, tanned breast. She licked her lips and let her hand slide down between her legs.
She didn’t have to tell me twice.



It was pretty much the best weather the City had all summer. We all were hanging out in the park and it was just a beautiful thing. Tom had his drum and he played it while Cathy and Sammy danced.
I checked the time, took another toke, then said my goodbyes. “Gotta split. I promised Kelly I’d come by.” I brushed off my jeans and pulled on my shirt. “Later.”
I made my way through the park and scored another bag on the way to Kelly’s.
When I got there. Kelly was out in the back yard painting a sign that said U.S. OUT NOW. She had red paint on her cheek and looked so cute. Her dress drifted on the cool breeze her dark hair was tied back with a tie-dyed scarf. When the sun was right, I could see right through the dress.
“Took you long enough.” She grinned. “Out here painting these up all by myself in the sun, man. Not cool.”
I waved the baggie in front of her face and she whispered, “But I forgive you.”
We laughed and fell onto the grass – our hands exploring.
“Let’s go inside, Baby?”
We managed to get to our feet and move inside before anyone called the cops.



The sun was hot and warm and I picked Kelly up around 1pm. I heard her Father barking at her as I moved up the driveway. Wow - the guys voice carried like he was using a megaphone.
“And, where are you to driving to?”
I knocked.
“Coming!” Kelly’s voice was as warm as the sun. The door opened and she rolled her eyes and mouthed, “He’s such a bore.”
“Hello, Mr. Roth. Were you able to get out and enjoy some of this weather today?” I smiled. “Ideal for golf, right? Did you get your new clubs?”
Her father drifted over to the door and his face softened. “Well, not yet. Haven’t had time to go over and pick them up yet.”
“Well, don’t waste this day, Sir.” I shook his hand. “I’ll have Kelly home by…eight? I thought we’d just go for a drive and get something to eat.”
He arched his brow and smiled. “Well, like you said, it’s a beautiful day and it’d be a shame to waste it. Make it nine. You two have a nice time.”
We waved and walked to the car. Even with the windows down it was super hot.
I backed into the street and beeped the horn as we moved off for the day. When we were further down the road, I pulled over into the shade. Kelly looked at me shyly.
“What’s wrong?” She blinked.
I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She giggled and looked around. “You’re going to get us in trouble.” She blushed.
I gave her cheek a pinch and laughed. “You’re the ginchiest!”



The weather was ideal. Some of the best we’ve had in a long while, I tell you. It was a fabulous day for tea.
I walked up the path to Ms. Roth’s home and knocked. The sun beat down on my back and I began to perspire. I couldn’t show up looking like some ruffian. I removed my hat and wiped my brow with my handkerchief.
The door opened and Ms. Roth’s Father loomed before me.
“Well hello my boy. Right on time as usual, eh?” He smiled and nodded as he took my hand. “Come in before you’re baked alive out there.” He motioned me inside and I swept my handkerchief back into my pocket.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“We’re taking tea on the back porch. There’s a nice breeze today and the oaks will keep things cool. This way.”
He lead me through the house to the back yard and our into the garden. The sun filtered through the trees and the cool breeze raced over my forehead – a Godsend.
Then, I saw her. She was beautiful. An Angel. She sat up and turned her head towards me ever so slightly. She was a vision. Her skin glistened as she twirled her parasol and smiled in my direction. I blushed. He dress was a bright yellow and it reflected the sun’s bright light. I blushed again as I glanced at the buttons down her side. They were like pearls.
“Mr. Cole – I’m glad you could make it this afternoon.” She smiled kindly and her lashes flittered playfully.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. Thank you for your invitation.” I bowed my head and glanced over to Mr. Roth. He nodded and I made my way towards her. “Thank you…for making a place for me at your table.” I took her hand in mine and held it for a moment. The smooth silk of her glove sent shivers up my arm. We looked into each others eyes and held the glance for what seemed like an eternity.
“Now now you two lovebirds. We’ll have none of that foolishness here today.” Mrs. Roth’s voice sing songed from the garden and I jerked my hand back awkwardly as Mr. Roth bellowed out a laugh. “The neighbors will be talking. Sit. Sit, now.”
I smiled awkwardly and sputtered out a laugh as Mrs. Roth took a seat next to her daughter. Mr. Roth sat next to her and I took a chair across from Ms. Roth.
I was in heaven. I was so close to her - able to sneak glances at her and exchange sweet smiles. I was in heaven.
This was a fabulous summer. My best summer ever.

Plan B

He stood in the darkness staring at the car as the frosty wind raced off the ocean and over his skin. Sand blew around his feet as the strap of his computer bag cut into his shoulder.
The Dodge sat in the middle of the little, four lane highway with the hood propped open and liquid slowly dripping out from the under carriage. Hazard lights blinking, the vehicle was passed on the left and right by functioning brethren.
“Piece of crap,” he mumbled as he pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. Thank God he brought it with him. This was the perfect way to top off his amazing fourteen-hour day at work. Perfect.
He glanced at his phone again. He’d been waiting in the cold for over an hour and the tow truck was due at any minute. The only thing he could think about was getting home and getting into a nice, hot shower.
A large truck pulled up a few blocks away and parked. That had to be it.
He waved, moving into the light. “Over here, Dude. Hel-lo!” Hopping, he waved and tried to get the drivers attention. “God damn….” He pulled out his cell and waved it over his head. The iPhone’s illuminated face might act like a beacon. He felt it vibrate in his hand as the small bells began to chime.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr Johnson? Our driver is there and he’s not seeing where you are.”
“I’m right across the street. I’ve been waving, but he doesn’t see me I guess.” He frowned and waved again.
“Oh, ok. Well, I’ll let him know. So, you’re across the street?”
“Yes, right ahead of him.
“I’ll let him know. Thank you, Mr. Johnson.”
He waited and a moment later the truck started moving forward and across the street toward him. He waved again, motioned to the car’s resting place, and then started moving towards it. The bag on his shoulder slide and he caught it awkwardly as he made his way over the small barrier and through the sandy bar along side the roadway.



Minutes later, he gave a final look back at his car before climbing into the tow truck. He glanced back through the window and muttered a curse as he fastened his seatbelt.
The tow driver hoisted himself up into the cab. He was a round man who looked like he was shooting for “physically unfit” as a look. His round belly was accentuated by his tight shirt tucked into his pants. His dark skin had a sheen of sweat and his hands were covered with grease and grime.
“Here we go, huh?” He smiled and the tow truck roared to life as his door slammed shut. “Where are we going again?”
“Clement street?”
“Right….right….that place. I know where that is. By 24th. I looked on the way here.” He glanced back and pulled the truck and it’s flatbed deadweight into traffic. “We’ll get you there and home, huh Mr. Johnson?”
“Sounds great.” He stared out the window with tired eyes and wondered if the driver was planning on slowing down at all before hitting the curve. He obviously had no intention of wasting time being safe. He took the hill and the corner at 45 miles per hour.
“Tough day, huh?”
“Yeah. Drag of a day.”
“I bet.” The tow driver laughed.
Malcolm liked his slight, Spanish accent. It was comforting and made up for the discomfort he felt from the man’s driving. “Yeah. I worked a fourteen-hour day and them this crap happens on the way home. All I wanted to do is get home and them….wham.”
“Wham.” The man laughed again. “Like my night. I had to drive down to San Jose, pick a woman up, and take her to Hayward.” He laughed. “And after I take you to Clement, I have to drive BACK down to San Jose!” He shook his hand and giggled slightly.
Malcolm mustered a smile. “Wham.” He was starting to warm up now – the chill in his bones giving way to the heat of the tow truck and fear from the man’s driving. He half hopped the car would be flung away, smash into the ground and burst into flames. Problem solved.
“Wasn’t part of your plan, huh? Never is part of the plan, right?” The man looked over to Malcolm and grinned a wide grin. “You never see it coming.”
“Nope, not part of the plan at all.”
“Plan A – Plan A didn’t work.” The man shifted and half stopped at a stop sign before racing on.
Malcolm glanced back at his car rocking on the bed of the tow truck, then faced forward again.
“What you need,” the man said as he looked to Malcolm with a wide smile, “is a Plan B.” He chuckled and faced forward in his seat. “Plan B always works.” The laughter built in the man’s belly and his wide smile was infectious.
Malcolm smiled and chuckled. “Plan B.” He thought about it for a minute – the oily smell of the truck’s cab filling his nostrils. He broke into laughter, but wasn’t sure why.
“Plan B ALWAYS works!” The tow driver patted the steering wheel.
The two men laughed hearty laughs.
Malcolm was surprised. He didn’t think he’d be laughing tonight. Of course, he didn’t know that the answer to his problems…was a Plan B.

Dinner Date

She wasn’t raised t say such things. She was a good girl. Modest and lady-like. But, even that gave her away. Not quite a lady, just like one. Like something is similar, yet not quite it. The conversation had gotten sexy, but she liked it.

The wine didn’t help. She wasn’t a drinker, yet this – her fourth glass – was being put away without rational thought. The way he looked at her was frightening, but it filled her with heat as well. Simple things made her mind swim.

Would she like more salad? Oh, god yes – give her more.

How was the lamb? He made it just the way she wanted it – tender, hot, and perfectly seasoned.

She was lost.

“Well, I guess we should think about getting you home. You look tired.” He smiled that smile of his. The smile that made her melt. She felt a heat rise in her chest and wanted to jump on him then and there. She knew it was just the wine. Knew it would be a huge mistake to react like she wanted to, but, she wanted him and wanted him now.

“I should, I guess. Have to work tomorrow and all. You sure you don’t mind driving? I could call a cab instead.” Or, just sleep here tonight after you RAVAGE me!

“No no. No cab. That’s silly. I’ll drive you.” He stood and cleared the plates. He dragged his finger over his desert plate and turned. His finger slipped into his mouth and he licked the crème from it. Was he trying to make her crazy? If so, it was working. She shivered. “Cold?”

“Just got a chill.” She smiled. And rubbed her arms. She looked down and noticed her nipples pushing through her blouse and blushed. Jesus. She needed to get her coat before he noticed. Or, maybe not.

“I’m sorry. I can turn the heat up.”

“I don’t think I could take more heat.” She stared blankly for a moment. Then, trying to cover, she mumbled, “Well, more than the finger licking.” Again, a heartbeat passed, then, “And the wine. I just get shivers sometimes.” Her head was swimming. She drank far too much, but loved every moment of it. She felt lighter than air.

He moved to her and around behind her.

She looked up and behind herself as he slipped his hands onto her shoulders and rubbed softly. She closed her eyes and let her head drop as his strong hands pressed into the soft muscle and olive skin of her shoulders. His breath was in her ear now and she grew warmer. More aroused.

He whispered, “I suppose…you could stay here tonight.” His hands slid down over her chest and cupped them gently. She swooned. “I could…set you up on the sofa. Or…” He nibbled her ear.

Her hands dropped to her sides and found his legs. She gripped them and felt the muscle under the firm flesh and cotton slacks. Her hands kneaded his calves. “I’m not sure I should.”

His tongue slid over her ear lobe.

“Maybe I could….sleep on the sofa. That….might be…” She felt something stir in her belly as fingers found her nipples. The wine spun her head as she yanked it upright. Her balance fell away as the perfectly prepared meal rose from her belly. She couldn’t even get out a warning as she bolted forward in her seat and was sick.

He yelped as his tongue was bitten. Her head smacked his bottom jaw and clamped his own teeth on his tongue. His head jerked back and hit the pots that hung behind him as she lost her dinner all over the wondrous, white tablecloth that covered the dinner table.

“Oh, God,” she hissed as she pushed away from the table and raced for what she remembered as the restroom. She yanked the door open and dove in, knocking an ironing board to the floor along with some rolls of toilet paper and what she believed to be tools, though she couldn’t focus enough to be sure.

He mumbled, “To the right,” but, of course it was too late and she was sick in his hallway.

This, in turn, removed the romance from the evening.




Hours later after medicine, a cold compress, and some cleaning had been preformed, they sat together on the sofa in robes. Hair wet from the showers they took – alone – they sipped water and tried to find the humor in the situation, but it was still a bit too soon.

“I don’t drink often.” She stared into her water glass, then swept her hair away behind her ear.

“I figured.” He snickered and she followed suit. “Well, the hall is spotless.” The two stared into the hallway, then began laughing. He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

It wouldn’t last.

Brunch with Mother

As the kitchen clock struck ten, the smell of fresh scones and bacon drifted through the small, San Francisco apartment. Warmth from the oven warmed the apartment and light streamed in through the open window. It was a perfect day. Unfortunately, today was brunch day.


David stood before the antique mirror in the bathroom and shaved, tapping the razor into the sink and trying to concentrate on both the conversation and not slitting his throat with the razor in his hands. His stomach growled as he hurried through the process, eager to get the shaving done before Debra destroyed the kitchen and before his Mother arrived.

He called out, “She won’t stay long. She never does – you know that.” He rinsed the razor, tapped the blade against the cold, white sink, then dragged it over his right cheek. He heard a slam from the kitchen and sighed, “Come on, Debra. It’s not that bad. She will be in and out of here in an hour or so. She’s just visiting. Like always.”

A crash of drawers from the kitchen filled the air followed by the slamming of a door somewhere.

David rinsed the remaining shaving cream off, dried off with a blue towel from the rod, and applied lotion to his face. He walked from the bathroom and folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Debra…please. We can talk through this later, but she’s going to be here in a minute and I want to greet her clothed.” He smiled.

Debra returned the smile, but it was cool and somewhat transparent.

David moved toward her. “I’ll make sure she gives more notice next time, ok? But, just for now, can we be civil? Please?” David ran a hand over his head. He knew Debra didn't like his mother - not many people did - but, these visits had to happen. "Just stay off in the bedroom and you won't even have to deal with her at all." He dipped his head pleading.

She nodded and moved off down the hall, saying nothing.

David bowed his head, breathed out a long sigh, then moved to the bedroom to get dressed.


_______


The woman at the table ate at the scone in her hand with delicate bites and spoke with a slight accent highlighted with a venomous tone. Her hair bun was as tightly wound as she was all the time. She blurted out comments on everyone she knew during her visits and David sat and listened with disinterest. He didn’t even know half the people she spoke ill off during her rants. She sat upright and prim, dispensing ill will. He’d listened to his mother bad mouth everyone from his father to his sister to his "horrible, gay neighbors" and he’d had just about all he could take for one morning.

She lightly touched her jet black hair and David wondered if she dyed it. “And, you know how she is – all fluff and pink and horrid makeup!” She rubbed her arms and glanced around the apartment. “You always keep it so cold here.”

David brushed off the comment about the cold as best he could and walked to the wall heater to boost it even more. . “Well, she is your sister, Mom.” David grinned, returned to the table, and finished his bacon. The coffee swirled in his cup as he checked the time out of the corner of his eye.

“My sister is a ridiculous BEAST of a woman.” She swatted the words away with her hand as if swatting at bugs. “Enough about her. She makes me so upset.” She dropped the scone onto the plate and looked at her son with dull eyes. “So, this girl you said you were seeing? When do I finally get to MEET her?” She sipped her coffee.

David looked at her and wanted to laugh as the thought of him somehow making Debra appear through magic appeared in his head. He shook it off. “She’s out.”

“Out?” His mother rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair with a smug look on her face. “Last time she had some sort of 'appointment' and couldn’t be here either.” She tutted. "I'm beginning to think she is avoiding me."

“Well, you don’t give us much notice, do you?” David tried to remain polite.

“Your own mother needs to give notice? Schedule an appointment?” She frowned. “Well, nice to know where I stand.”

“It’s common practice – letting someone know you are thinking about coming by.” David couldn’t hide his impatience and his mother gave him that face that registered both hurt and anger. He’d grown to hate that face as a boy. It was even worse now.

Just then, he caught sight of Debra slipping up behind his mother. She stood with the water pitcher in hand and looked as if she was bound and determined to empty its contents over his mother’s head.

David stood and deftly moved around behind his mother, snatching the pitcher up and spinning around to stand between his mother and Debra.

His mother gasped and ducked back a bit, catching her breath and blurting out, “What on earth is wrong with you?!” She frowned and muttered something in Japanese under her breath.  David caught the word "baka" and remembered her calling him that as a child. He grimaced.

“Water?” David smiled wide, holding the pitcher high. He heard Debra slip around the corner behind him. He moved back to the table.

Confusion showed on his mothers face as she declined his offer. David slipped the pitcher back onto the countertop and shot Debra a look as she peeked around the corner behind his mother - smiling. Her eyes contained the mischievous quality he’d seen far too many times before. She slipped around the wall.

He thought this would be a good time to end the visit.

“Well, like I said, mother, I do need to run. I’m sorry.” He checked his watch and winced. “I have to run down to the shops before picking up Marty.”

“I thought you said Marty was away this weekend. Your sister was traveling and couldn't make it today. ”

David remembered the lie he told on his sister’s behalf so she didn’t have to attend this little brunch extravaganza. “From the train.” I need to go to the shops, get my-“ He stopped and showed his annoyance by crossing his arms. “What? Do you think this is all some sort of…of con? Some massive running away from you?” He laughed. “Come on, you can walk down to the shops with me is you don’t believe me.” He shook his head with a chuckle and started clearing plates.

“Well, if you’re going to get her, maybe I’ll wait here and we can all have dinner together before I head home?”

David could feel his heart sink at the thought of his Mother lingering around the apartment with Debra hiding in the bedroom. Idiot.

“It’ll be hours.” He turned to see Debra moving up slowly and calmly behind his mother with a sour expression.

“You know, I’ll clean all this up later.” David smiled to his Mother.

Debra bit her bottom lip and brought her hand up high. Something was cradled in her hands. A dictionary?

David was across the room in a heartbeat again, shoving past his mother and up to grab the heavy book away from its arc towards his mother’s head.

With a squawk, his mother fell back into the chair and knocked into her coffee, spilling it across the table. “DAVID! Dō shita no?!”

David spun on his heel – dictionary in hand. “Present!” He laughed. “You reminded me.” He held the book up and started paging through it. "Marty got me this as a present when I was complaining about the meaning of words one day. I thought it was funny because you said...."

His Mother cut in. “You’re on drugs, aren’t you? I saw a program on this just the other night. There’s a singer from the UK that is on the same – heroin?" She nodded in agreement with herself. " I knew you were losing weight!” She stood. “You are on that or something else. You’re entirely off your ledge! Knocking me over like that!” She looked at her sleeve and grumbled, “Coffee on my new coat, David.”

David closed the book and dropped it onto the end table. He glanced around but didn’t see Debra. He whispered, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” His mother stood and moved to the sink to wash off her sleeve. “David, you need to seek help from someone. A counselor of some type. Or, go to one of those rehabilitation centers or AA groups.” She rinsed her sleeve with cold water shaking her head sadly.

David noted the chill of the room increasing. He glanced around and narrowed his eyes.

His mother shut the tap off and looked around for a towel.

That’s when David saw Debra…and the knife. With cat-like grace, he leaned forward, snatched the knife from Debra, and yanked the towel from the refrigerator door. He slipped the towel in front of his mother’s face as he quietly slid the knife onto the counter. “Ta-daa! Towel.”

Eyes wide, David's Mother took the towel. Her jaw slackened slightly, then she whispered, “David. I saw the knife.” She dropped the towel onto the kitchen floor without drying her hands. “David.”

David tried with all his might to come up with why he would be waving a knife around his mother. Nothing fit. He watched as the color drained from his mother’s face.

She blinked. “It…it was floating. Just there. Floating in the air." His poor Mother's face was pale and shocked.  "Floating in the air, David.”

“Floating?” He looked over at the knife on the countertop. “Um…I don’t understand.” He furrowed his brow.

“Floating in the air, David. Right there. Inches before my face.” She was white as a ghost - an expression David found extremely funny in this particular situation.

“Mom? Are you ok?” He frowned. “You know, you don’t look at all well.” He cocked his head to one side. “Mom…are…are you on some sort of medication? Is this was that conversation is all about?” David forced concern onto his face. He felt bad about the bait and switch until he remembered all the horrid things his mother had said over the course of the hour plus this morning.

His mother blinked. “I’m leaving.”

“Maybe I should take you?” He patted her shoulders. “You look so tired. Sure you don’t want to come to the shops with me?”

Without a word, she hugged him and moved to the front door. Purse in hand, she looked back at David and shivered. “Say hello to Marty for me. Maybe we can all meet for dinner one night next month. Out somewhere. I miss her.” She swallowed hard as she glanced around the apartment resting briefly on a photo on the wall of the living room. She made her way towards the door looking around like a child on a haunted house ride. She waved back at David, tried to produce a smile (more like a grimace) , and closed the door behind herself quickly.

David waited and listened for the sound of the front gate slamming shut. Then, he heard his mother’s car pulling away before saying a word.

He looked around and saw her as she appeared - moving through the wall of the kitchen pouting playfully. She turned from what looked like smoke to a shimmering outline of a woman. Petite and lithe, she moved toward him.

“Debra, that was really over the top.” He tried to sound stern.

Debra’s voice was a whisper that sounded like velvet dipped in honey.  “Oh David…I wasn’t going to hurt your mother.” She moved to his side and stroked his hair with a willowy, silver and translucent hand. She smelled like flowers and...rain. Her feet drifted a mere inch above the floor as she glided around him slowly.

“She’s an old woman, Debra. She could have had a heart attack.” He sighed. “Really, that was just not right.”

Debra pouted harder and slowly drifted backwards. Her velvet whisper drifted to his ears as she started to fade away. “I’m sorry David.”

“Wait." He sighed. "Come back.” David sighed again and placed his hands on his hips. “Come on.”

Debra appeared behind him. “What?” She blinked innocently. Her hair was cut in a short shag and her face was full and beautiful. Her hands moved behind her back and she looked coy.

David turned around and cocked his head to the side. “Just…be nicer?” He smiled sweetly to her. “Please? I mean...as mean as she is, she’s still my mother.”

Again, the syrupy whisper filled the room. “I’ll try.” She shimmered and a smile crossed her face.

David returned the smile and took a deep breath. He could smell her floral scent.

Debra’s arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed in closer. Her body rose slightly so her chest was at his eye level, then she slithered down his front. She floated above the floor looking into his eyes. Her silky voice seemed in front of him and all around him when she spoke.  “Forgive me?” Effort on her face and in her eyes, she became less translucent. More physically present. She kissed him and the room grew colder.

The two sank to the sofa.

The shops would wait.

___

A picture hung in the hallway of David's apartment. In it, a woman dressed in a mini-dress stands in David’s apartment’s kitchen by a refrigerator – an older style, but in the same spot. The image was slightly faded and the colors have mostly washed away.  She looks happy and vibrant as the brilliant, golden light streams through the kitchen window and lights up her face.

“Debra Shelly Summers, Eastmont Terrace, Summer 1963” was written in the corner of the 8x10 image. Even now, she didn't look a day over 30.

Wine 03: Rooftops and snapshots

Note: Read Wine 02: Merlot  First


Half the guests have gone now, but the wine still flows and the music plays softly as the hipsters
become more like friends to me and less like pests. I’ve met several people over the course of the evening and I’ve had to eat my words. They are not douchbags. Far from it.

I meet night’s hosts - a man named Terry and his wife Joyce. When I offer to pitch in to help pay for the evenings wine, the host laughs at me and tells me to hold onto my money. Evidently the whole evening is some sort of tax write off and a chance to meet new people. Go figure. I do pitch in by washing and drying a set of glasses, not taking no for and answer. I also clean up the remains of a broken glass and take out the trash. Guilt assuaged, I follow my cheese girl, Michelle, up to the roof.

I’m not sure where Steve is and I’m glad. I don’t need his words of wisdom right now. I slip into my jacket and move to the far corner of the roof with Michelle. The wind on the roof is cold and filled with moisture, but the wine coursing through my veins acts like an internal heater. We look out towards the park as a police siren and dog serenade us. Streetlights glow orange in the fog and I take a deep breath of cold, clean air.

“So, does that cheese trick always work with guys? Like some siren – you lure them to their fate with brie and sharp cheddar?” I’ve lost count of the amount of wine, but have a firm grasp on just how buzzed I am.

“Works every time. Men can’t resist the allure of a woman baring dairy products.” She shivers.

I remove my coat and she presses her hands against it as I try to wrap it around her. “No, you’ll freeze. Put it back on.”

“No, take it. I lose my gentleman card if I don’t give it to you. Come on. You’re dressed for summer in the islands.” I manage to work the coat onto her and she finally stops resisting.

“Well, thank you.” She smiles and sips her wine. "

We stare out into the night for a minute without saying anything. We rest our elbows against the roof wall and just stare. Finally, she breaks the silence.

“I’m not sure if my brother would approve of me being up here with some stranger.” She giggles and gives away the fact that she’s as buzzed as I am. “Inebriated and on a nearly deserted rooftop with a strange man. Not ladylike at all. We should have a chaperone.”

I hear Steve and bow my head, praying that he doesn’t notice it’s me in the dark. “Well, we have one. The loud guy back there. My friend Steve. He’s the one that invited me here.”

She glances back, then faces forward again. “I just see a couple making out.”

Lucky Steve, I think to myself.

“I’m glad he doesn’t see us. He has a bit of a social grace issue.” I swirl the wine in my glass and steal a glance at her. The light does wonders for her already magical look.

“I see. Not very pleasant?”

“No, he’s fine. We just have a strange relationship. I think he thinks of me as his younger, slightly dim step brother.” I smirk. The wine is in perfect balance in me. I’m happy and giddy, but not sick. Wine nirvana.

“Ah, I get it.” She finishes her wine and places the glass at her feet. I follow suit and place my glass next to hers.

I start to feel the awkwardness creeping in around the edges and try to think of something to say or do to drive it away. I reach into the left coat pocket and pull out my little pocket camera. I power it up and aim towards the park over the rooftops. “I have to document everything.” I switch to view mode and check the picture, then power it off and smile to her.

“Let me see it?” She holds out her hand.

“Sure.” I place the camera into her palm and watch as she steps backwards, aims the camera at herself, then snaps a picture. “Oh, the flash didn’t go off.” She turns on the flash and points it at herself again. The Flash goes off and her face is imprinted on my eyes for a moment. She’s really pretty.

“There. Now I’m documented as well. I don’t want you forgetting me.” She smiles sweetly.

I smile back and the awkwardness seems to drift away.

“I have to head out. Walk me down?” She slips out of my coat and hands it to me. We make our way across the roof and down the stairs, supporting ourselves so we don’t take a tumble.

“We leaving?” Steve follows us to the door and walks behind us with a brunette on his arm. Her lipstick is smeared and hair a mess. “You kids have a good time?”

“Wonderful time, thanks for asking.” Michelle doesn’t look back. She grips my arm as her foot slips out from under her and I hold her up.

“Nice catch, champ.” Steve chuckles. “I’ll call us a few cabs.” He pats my back gently and winks as he passes me with the brunette giggling at his side.

“Thanks.” Michelle smiles up at me and smile back. We stand in the hallway and she moves closer to me. “I left my glass up there,” she says softly.

“I can get it.”

“I really think this is where you kiss me. The glasses will be fine up there.” She presses forward and I kiss her softly. She tastes like wine and smells like flowers. Lavender, I think. She wraps her arms around my back and gives me a little squeeze. I do the same and slide my hand up to the back of her head - not down to her backside - and run it through her hair. She moans softly, then breaks away first and I rub her arm.

Joyce's voice bursts from the living room. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” Laughter fills apartment and the spell is broken.

I’m not sure what to say, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Can I have your number?”

She rubs at her arms – still chilly. “Why?” She tilts her head. “Are you going to call me?”

“I may need advice later. You know, about cheese and things. I figure it might be good to have your number in case I run into anything I’m curious about.” I shrug playfully.

Michelle grins and looks around. She pulls a scrap of paper and pen from a basket by the phone and writes. “I knew it would come down to cheese advice. Men always want to use you for your knowledge.” She hands me the paper and slides the pen back into the basket.

“Need a ride?” I try to keep my voice level and not too needy.

“My brother’s taking us back. He doesn’t drink.” She smiles. “Thanks though.” She bites her lip. "I'd offer a ride, but we're crushed in like sardines." I hear the earnestness in her voice.

“No, not a problem. I need to head back with Steve anyway.” I sound like an ass in my head and I want to smack myself. I need to come up with something witty. Some closing remark of note so she’ll remember me.

“I have a cab. Mind if Jen rides with us?” Steve pulls on his coat and the brunette – Jen, I presume – sways next to him. Steve looks over to Michelle and I wince. “Did you need a ride home? We can all share the fare.”

Jen slurs slightly, but seems sweet. "Yeah, come with. It'll be nice."

“Thanks – my brother is giving me a lift. He drove us all over.”

Steve nods. “Cool. Well, goodnight.” He looks at me. “Coming or…?”

“I’ll be right there.”

I walk Michelle in to find her brother and promise to give her a call. Her brother shakes my hand and tells me it’s a pleasure to have met the Cheese Guy after all this time. Michelle blushes slightly and I take is as a good sign. I touch her arm and make my way out to the front door.

People file out and say their goodbyes and I manage to get a thank you and wave in to the hosts from a distance. I find it hard to leave. The apartment is warm and the smells of wine and food and candles make me think of holidays and parties from my childhood.

The buzz of the wine warms me as I make my way out into the cold, night air clutching Michelle’s number in my hand. I find Jen and Steve standing out on the curb and manage to make it to them right as the cab arrives. We pile in and Steve offers to drop me home first. Jen seems friendly and talks quietly about the wines she tasted as the cab makes it way through the fog.

Steve manages to remember the merlot and asks me if I liked it. I tell him it was the best I’ve tasted and he nods. “I thought you’d like it. You love merlot and that was amazing. I sent you a link about it.” He waggles his iPhone at me and I thank him, wondering if he’s changed or if I just never really saw him as the friend he really was.

God, I love wine.

Wine 02: Merlot

Note: Read Wine 01: Bread and Cheese  first

The wine glass feels heavy in my hand as I look out the window and across the street to the market where I got the now forgotten bread and cheese and I think about the girl there. I look down at my glass as Steve pours me another glass of wine. I look at him with a mixture of contempt and gratefulness.

“A merlot you’re going to love.” He shows me the label, but I don’t pay attention to what’s there.




“Am I?” I look at the contents of the glass with disdain.

“What is with you, James? Angry at me for not letting you sit at home with your books and self pity?”

I fucking hate you, you pompous turd. You and all these asshole, hipster douchbags.

“I’m just not feeling very social right now. The wine is making me tired and the crowd is a little out of my league, I think.” I look up from my glass in time to see Steve walking away with some brunette. He pours her a glass of the merlot and disappears with her into the kitchen. “And you’re gone again,” I growl low to myself.

“Sorry, I keep doing that to you, don’t I?”

I turn and stand face to face with the hippy girl from the market. She stares at me with big, gray eyes and pouts. “I guess I never got over the cheese stealing. It’s just hard to bare. But, I'm sorry to keep running off on you.” Her smile is enchanting.

I freeze up not knowing how to reply. I’m happy that I have not made a fool of myself when I see a man move towards her and slip his arm around her shoulder. I play off everything like the jokes they obviously are and sip my merlot with a goofy grin plastered to my face. The merlot is amazing and I frown and look at my glass before looking back at the couple.

“Is this woman bothering you?” the man laughs and hugs her to him. “She’s a menace.”

“I came from a broken home.” She removes her hat and places it on the mans head. “My siblings were all cruel monsters.”

“No excuses.” The man adjusts the hat and holds out his hand. “David.”

“James.” I shake his hand and spill a little of the merlot on my hand. Without thinking, I wipe it on the side of my jeans and wince slightly as I think about the stain.

“The cheese stealer at the store.” She frowns and it looks real to me though I know she’s playing.

“I couldn’t resist.” I sip my wine and glance around the room for Steve. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Oh?” The man raises his brows and cocks his head to the side. “Are you flirting?”

I laugh. My heart starts to race. While awkward, the whole of the situation is somewhat exciting.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Sorry to interrupt.” He winks and moves away as quickly as he arrived.

“Well?” The hippy girl stares at me blankly and I find myself lost in her eyes again. The grey of them reminds me of storm clouds.

I grip my glass so hard I think I’ll shatter it. “Excuse me?”

“Go on. I’m waiting.” She folds her arms and cradles the glass against her bicep.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” I laugh an awkward laugh.

“I thought you were flirting? I was waiting for more. You were off to a good start before he arrived.” She smiles, raises an eyebrow, and takes a sip.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were with him at the time. Um, all my best moves work on married women or women with boyfriends.” I try to play the whole thing off as I sip at my wine. Where the hell is Steve?

“David’s my brother. I’m not married and I don’t currently have anyone I refer to as boyfriend.” She looks back at the man and he waves his fingers towards us. “So, Cheese Stealer James, you were saying?” She sips her wine and levels her eyes at me.

________

Like it? Read PART 3 here:
https://malcojojo.blogspot.com/2008/08/wine-03-rooftops-and-snapshots.html

Wine 01: Bread and cheese

“So anyway, he just sits there like an idiot while she takes off all her clothes and dives in. The whole thing goes off as expected with her and Francois disappearing into the woods and those damn dogs chasing him off into the dark. I tell you, if I had a girl like her, I wouldn’t let her jump into a pool with a Frenchman. Especially one like – what the hell is that?”

He points and my eyes follow. The smoke from his cigarette burns my eyes and I rub at the left one absently while trying to focus my right. I scan the street and wave my hand in front of my face to get the smoke away. The Chinese food I’ve eaten makes my stomach gurgle and roil.

“What?” I cough. He doesn’t get the hint.

“That girl with that guy. Her dress is just blowing up and she’s not doing a thing about it. Awesome.” He flicks the cigarette away points again.

This time I see her. A woman walks away from us with a man at her side. Her dress is some sort of lightweight material that blows up with the slightest gust. I’ve seen this before. I mean, this is what guys look at as gifts in this world. The off chance you’ll see a woman’s panties as she exits a car or catches an off gust up her dress. And not the paparazzi shots of movie stars in magazines and the internet. The face to face – as it were – chance occurrence. As if the Gods above are rewarding you for some good deed you didn’t know you had done.

I raise my eyebrows as the wind catches her dress again. She wears a thong and her ample backside swishes from one side to the other as she continues down the street without trying to stop it.

“Wow.” That’s all I manage before Steve stands up and starts moving towards the store. I follow, like always.

Steve opens his arms wide. “Must be nice to be that free, you know? To let your ass fly free for all to see without trying to hide it away. I guess it is just a butt. We all have one. But still, it’s cool to see a woman just let it all hang out like that.” A tiny, Asian woman glares at him, but he doesn't care.

“Mine is nowhere near as curvy, round and perfect as hers," I say with a grin.

This catches him off guard and he looks at me and laughs hard. “Funny.”

We move into the store and start wandering the aisles in search of food. I’m not hungry at all – the miscommunication of the afternoon’s activities making me think I needed to be fed before the party. The Chinese food would have been gladly left for a solid deli sandwich.

“I’m not hungry. I’ll just grab a bag of cookies or something.”

“You’d bring a gun to a knife fight.” He laughs again. “Cookies to a wine party is classic James.”

I think of things I could say back. Not telling me what the hell is going on and blowing smoke in my face is classic Steve. I say nothing.

“You should get bread and cheese or something. That’s wine food.” He motions to another girl with his head and I look.

She’s wearing a delightful summer outfit. She’s 70s hippy feeling and very pretty. Her blouse is flowing and her jeans tight. She wears sneakers and a fedora. She moves like a dancer - graceful and with purpose. I scan her body and run my hand over the box of baking powder in front of me for show. trying to look like I'm just a simple shopper. She’s very cute. Her full frame sways with each step and I feel like her hips are hypnotizing me. I move up her body and note the seeming lack of a bra. When I get back to her adorable face, I see that she's’s staring right at me. I smile clumsily as she smirks and moves off down the row.

“Great.” I look for Steve and he’s nowhere to be found.

I make my way down the bread aisle and before I even know what I’m doing and pulling a loaf of sourdough off the shelf. I feel ill and I’m not sure if it’s because of the Chinese food or because I can’t not do what Steve suggests. I just need to find a lump of fucking cheese and get to the party.

I pick up my pace and move to the cheese area. There are a few out for tasting and I slip a toothpick from the cup next to the tray and spear a wedge. As I’m bringing it to my mouth, someone says, “That was mine.”

I stop and hold the cheese inches from my mouth as I turn to see the hippy girl frowning at me.

“You totally snaked my cheese, dude.” She shoves her hat back away from her face and a strand of blonde hair drifts down in front of her right eye. She swipes it back behind her ear.

I stare not knowing what to do.

“Are you just going to eat my cheese without an introduction? It seems really rude.” She places her hand on her hips, swings her basket back and forth and narrows her eyes. “I mean, it’s very forward of you, yeah?”

I glance at the cheese and she laughs. Her small breasts bounce and I think I’m in love. I watch as she takes a toothpick, spears a small cube of cheese, and pops it into her mouth. “Fine. Go ahead and take it. But I’m not sure if I can trust you ever again.” She smiles and wanders off with basket in hand.

I slide the cheese into my mouth and watch her walk toward the checkout. She looks back and smiles wide as a hand strikes the center of my back. I wince and turn to see Steve smiling with that I told you so smirk of his.

“Bread and cheese. Good call. Get this one and let’s roll. We’re going to be late.” He picks up a wedge of some yellow cheese wrapped in plastic and lays it on top of my bread, then heads off towards the checkout.

_______

Like it? Read PART 2 here
https://malcojojo.blogspot.com/2008/08/wine-02-merlot.html

Better

“The sun was bright and the sky was so clear this morning, Sonnie. Did you see it?” Angie Lyst smile brightly. It always made Sonnie think of an elf or pixie. “I wanted to just lay down in it all day. Curl up and sleep.”
Sonnie nodded and slid her sunglasses on. “Yeah, it was lovely.” Her olive skin had goose bumps now as the fog rolled over the City and small drops of dew-like moisture started to cover things. The sun fought hard, but was loosing the battle. “I wish we got out sooner. Sorry.”
The small coffee shop was busy and people moved in and out like ants. The outdoor table seemed like a good idea 45 minutes ago when the sun was unhindered by fog, but now Sonnie regretted the choice. She looked down at her arms again, adjusted her blouse, then looked over at Angie blankly. She enjoyed the time with Angie. She didn’t have to talk much. She liked just listening from time to time.
Angie sipped her coffee and shook her head. “Not a big deal.” Her hair was clipped at the sides and it made her look even younger. “I got Ron’s card. It was nice of him to try to…say he was sorry. Or whatever he was trying to do.” She shrugged. “Sounds like people are still miserable there. Horrible sweat shop.”
Sonnie was half listening. She removed her glasses and stared at the woman talking on her phone. “Does she have to talk so loud? I mean, she’s not talking through a fucking tin can on a string.” Sonnie glanced around her and noted that others in the coffee shop were staring as well. “We should all get together and drop that cell into her latte.”
Angie looked over at the woman and then back to Sonnie. “She just doesn’t know.”
“What were you saying about Ron?” Sonnie leaned back in her chair. “That he’s a prick?” She grinned.
Angie looked at her and swooned. She still had a little crush on Sonnie. Her almond eyes and smooth skin. A sweet crush. Like one you’d have on a puppy or something. “I was just saying he wrote a nice note after all that stuff happened. I mean, at least he made an effort.”
“I guess that’s something.” Sonnie slid a hand over her side. “I wish I recorded you going off on him. That was beautiful.” She giggled. “I didn’t know you could curse like that. Ron’s face.” She laughed harder. She had enjoyed the show immensely until she realized that Angie was truly out of control. Then the scene lost it’s humor. She had cried with Angie was dragged out of the building and into the ambulance. She shook her head and tried not to think about it.
Angie blushed. “I usually don’t, but he shouldn’t treat people that way.” She sipped and collected her thoughts. “When I went…all loopy? And ate that money and said all those things to Ron.”
“And dumped the copier on the floor and broke the coffee pot while saying everyone needed to e treated like humans and not cattle? I remember something about that, yes.” Sonnie smiled. They had talked through the events that lead up to Angie going “bat-shit-crazy” and it was an open forum for discussion now that the therapy sessions were chilling Angie out. “What about it?”
“I don’t think anyone but you got it, really. The fact that I wasn’t crazy BEFORE working there.” Angie frowned and thought for a moment. “I think they still don’t understand or think it was other pressures that caused it. You know?”
“I think more know than you think. We’ve talked about it some.” Sonnie shrugged. “People are rather complacent, however. I’m not sure they know it’s not the same everywhere. I mean, work is still work even at my new gig, but I don’t feel like burning the place down.”
“Well, you got out.” Angie smiled. “I’m glad.”
“Well, I just don’t want to play those games anymore. They treated you horribly. You didn’t deserve that.” Sonnie finally lost it. She looked over to the cell phone lady and waved at her. “Could you please be a little more quiet? Just a bit?” She made a motion to the others seated around them.
The woman was startled and looked at Sonnie dumbly for a moment before making a wincing face when it became clear. She mouthed Sorry and waved. Her voice dropped to a softer level immediately and her face was bright red.
“See, she didn’t know.” Angie smiled her wide smile again and Sonnie nodded.
“Guess not.” Sonnie smiled over at the woman, then looked down at her hands. “I wish I wasn’t a bitch all the time.”
“You’re not.”
“No, I pretty much am.” Sonnie laughed. “I guess I just don’t have the same feeling about people that you have. I pretty much think they are all just fucking assholes for the most part. You have this up with people thing I just can’t get a grip on. I don’t know.” She sighed and looked out into the street.
“You were a total sweetheart with all my stuff, Sonnie. Right? You stayed with me and made sure I was ok. You took days off.” Angie patted her hand, then removed it quickly. “You were really nice.”
Sonnie snatched up her purse and removed her credit card. She was uncomfortable. Angie knew the signs.
“I’ll still think of you as some evil, Asian bitch if you want me to. I know you’re pretty attached to that.” Angie grinned.
Sonnie rolled her eyes. “Blah blah blah.” She held the check out to the waiter who took it after sneaking a peek at Sonnie’s blouse. “Your therapy tricks won’t work on me.” She finished the rest of her coffee as she watched the waiter walk away. Her eyes narrowed a bit, then she let her carnal thoughts go. “How’s that going, anyway? The therapy and all?”
“I don’t wake up crying anymore. My Dad and I are talking again. I’m even thinking about taking that position at TCC. The offer is still open.”
“Whoa, pace yourself. You’ll be a valid member of society again and won’t want to hang out with me anymore.” Sonnie slid her glasses onto the top of her head.
“I’ll still go slumming with you from time to time for free coffee.”
“Just for that you’re paying for the movie and popcorn.” Sonnie winked and reapplied her lipstick. Angie noticed that it happened to be right when the waiter – a talk, Greek looking guy with blue eyes and dark hair – returned with the check.
“Have a nice day, Ladies.” He smiled.
Sonnie dragged the lipstick over her bottom lip, pressed her lips together, then smiled sweetly to him. “Thanks.” Sonnie watched him stroll off again. “Greek.” She pursed her lips and made a little low growing sound.
“You’re hilarious.” Angie shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“What?” Sonnie tried to look innocent, but couldn’t quiet pull it off. “Come on.” She stood and slid her purse up onto her shoulder.
Angie moved along behind her as Sonnie made her way through the patio and out to the sidewalk. She pointed down the street. “I’ll drive.” Sonnie made her way down the sidewalk then stole a glance at Angie. She looked like a teenager. Small and tucked tightly into herself so she wouldn’t occupy too much space. She knew Angie was better, but also knew there was more to work out for sure.
“I want a drink too. Maybe one of those meals with a little box of popcorn and candy and a soda in a cute little container?”
“Sounds good.” Angie mustered a smile.
Sonnie grabbed the back of Angie’s neck and shook it softly, then dragged a hand over the top of her head. “You’re doing good.”
“Easy, you’re out of character. You’re being nice.”
The two of them laughed and made they way to the car.

The Waiting Room

High ceilings. Tan walls. Slowly turning fans circulating the air. Several rows of frosted windows let in light, but do not show what is outside the large room. Those inside don’t seem concerned about the outside, if there is an outside at all. The room is quiet and somewhat still, thought some of the figures move through the room – restless as they wait. Jazz music plays at a subliminally low level.
Florescent lights flicker overhead and bathe the figures beneath them with an off white light. The inhabitants shift awkwardly in green plastic seats and try to get as comfortable as they can for the seemingly long wait ahead of them. The room is large and the rows of chairs are mostly occupied. Some figures even sit on the floor – perhaps more comfortable there than on the ridged, uncomfortable seats provided.
The murmur of conversation hums steadily, but rarely goes above a respectable level. The water fountain in the corner returns the hum of the room as a woman leans over and drinks from it. She has ample curves and shimmering blonde hair. Her lips purse as she laps at the cool water that jets from the water fountain. She is completely nude.
Something crashes on the tile flooring in the back of the room and heads turn. The man in the back raises his hand and waves. “Sorry.” He picks up a large, automatic rifle from the tile floor, waves again with an embarrassed look on his face and returns to his seat. He settles the weapon in his lap and glances at a slip of paper in his hand, avoiding eye contact.
A small, round man slips through a set of double doors and comes out to the tiny office area at the front of the room. The rooms focus shifts as he scans the group before him and adjusts his glasses before turning and moving to the metal file cabinet to the right. Eyes filled with hope follow him.
A few members of the assembly lean forward. Others stand and take a quick look at the slips of paper they hold.
The man removes a folder and slides the file drawer shut. He scans the group again and counts quietly. “…thirty…thirty-one….thirty…um…forty-five…” He sniffs and shakes his head, turns, and moves out of the office pen and back through the double doors.
Several members of the group moan audibly. Others curse.
“I don’t buh-believe this. Th-This is taking forever,” a slim man stutters and twists the knot of his tie. He wipes his brow with the back of his jacket and taps his foot rhythmically in an agitated manor. Something drifts past him and disappears into a shimmer of smoke. He doesn’t acknowledge it. “I mean – right?” He looks up to the nude woman as she takes a seat next to him. “Th-This is just sssilly. Wu-Waiting th-this long?”
The woman runs her hands down her thighs then leans back and crosses her legs. She glances at the slip of paper in her hand before shifting her gaze to the man. “Yeah, well….” Her voice is like syrup. There’s a tinge of a New York accent deep within it. She drags a hand through her hair, looks up to the ceiling and frowns, then bites her lower lip. “Uh, I guess. I mean, it’s been a while.” She shrugs and folds her arms over her bosom. Her skin looks like porcelain under the fluorescents. She watches as a man dressed in robes leads a horse past her and the stuttering man at her side. The man whispers to the horse in Hebrew, though the woman doesn’t have a clue what language it is. Why would she?
The woman’s platinum blonde hair falls in front of one eye and she resembles Veronica Lake. She whispers, “Pretty horse.” She re-crosses her legs and breathes out a sigh.
A man and woman kiss passionately in the far corner of the room. She wears jeans and a t-shirt and her hair is cut short and dyed pink. He wears a business suit and large, fuzzy slippers in the shape of bears heads – his feet slipped into their open mouths.
At the back of the room, a woman in some sort of armor space suit presses the buttons H and 4 on a vending machine and watches as a small, metal coil rotates slowly and moves a bag of chips forward. The bag reaches the end of its aisle then hangs for an instant before dropping. It gets caught on the way down between a package of popcorn and the glass. She grumbles and slams her fist into the machine. The loud bang makes heads turn again. The bag drops and she flips the door up and retrieves it. She doesn’t apologies for the noise. She turns and leans against the wall. “I can’t get enough of these. So good.” She pulls the edges of the bag and it pops open. She removes her glove and tucks it into her belt, then reaches into t with a smile playing on her lips. “Like a spicy, chille flavor corn chip. Pretty damn good.”
The zombie facing her nods and blinks his one remaining eye. His flesh is sickly grey and rotted to the muscle and bone in some spots. His clothing is covered with dirt.
“Yeah, those are good. Have you tried the Sun Chips, though? I think they are better for you. Less salt and a better oil? Something like that.” He wipes a bit of spittle from what remains of his lower lip. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” She crunches another chip, then offers the bag out to the grey figure before her. He declines a chip and she reaches into the bag again. “They’re pretty good too, but I prefer these. They aren’t that bad for you overall.”
The zombie nods and glances around the room. His eye drops to the slip of paper in his hand, then back to the space woman. “Yeah.” He nods absently. “Is this all metal here?” He points a rotted finger to the woman’s shoulder pad.
“Carbon core silicone weaves.” She nods and drops three chips into her mouth. “It’s lighter,” she mumbles through the chips.
Something stomps past. It’s eight-foot frame blocks the light for a moment as it passes. The thing cocks its head and sniffs the air. It’s eyes narrow and it crouches down to scratch it’s foot before moving to the far right side of the room. It takes a seat next to a brunette wearing bright red running pants and a sweatshirt with “Born To Run” written across the front in gold letters.
She looks at the werewolf beside her and shifts in her seat slightly to give it more room.
It looks down at her and slides its legs out to the side, leaning out and away from her a bit. Its maw is somewhat short and its nose is dark and wet. Its grey hair is neat and not too long. Pointed ears poke off of its head at the sides. I has broad shoulders and long, muscular arms. It opens its mouth and a row of sharp teeth glisten as it’s steel blue eyes lock on her. “Sorry, do you have enough room? I can move over a bit.”
“No, no – I’m fine thanks.” She smiles.
The werewolf licks its lips. “They call H38 yet?” Its looks towards the office pen.
“Not since I’ve been here,” she says as she slips the baseball cap forward on her head. The werewolf’s breath smells like meat, but she tries to ignore it.
He looks back to the baseball cap girl and his fingers tap on his hairy knee. “They called that girl with the baseball bat WAY before me, but I thought I was here first, you know?” The werewolf scratches its side with a massive hand. Claw tipped fingers rake through the fur there. “I guess that’s not how it works. Not sure what’s up, really. I thought it was pretty clear that I was here first though. But…you know.” It huffs out a sigh and holds up it’s hands in resignation.
The girl shrugs.
The werewolf nods and leans back in its seat. “Yup yup yup….”
The short, round man pushes through the double doors again.
Again, the crowd in the room comes to a hush and all focus moves to the little round man as he moves to the front of the office pen, this time avoiding the file cabinet.
A woman dressed in a business suit stands and grabs up her briefcase hopefully as a small S.W.A.T. team stands at attention next to her. Their leader waves his hand. “Shh…quiet down, people.” He holds up their ticket with a gloved hand.
The office man clears his throat and grips a small, silver microphone that sits on the desk at the front. He presses the button on the side and leans into it. “C89? C89, please?”
The room lets out many disenchanted, yet subtle groans of disappointment. All but one go back to what they were doing.
A woman with short, dark hair moves towards the office pen and holds up her slip. “C89 – right here.” Her voice is matter of fact and quiet. She slips past a small group of dogs and they all wag their tails. She slips past them and moves forward. Someone blocks her and she whispers, “Pardon me.”
A man covered in blood smiles at her and moves his paper aside so she can pass. “Sorry.”
The woman makes her way to the front desk and hands her slip to the office man. She smiles politely.
He checks the number and smiles back. “Good, good.” He slides the ticket into a slot on the desk and gestures to her. “Now, you ate a dime before, right?”
She nods brightly. “Yes. In a coffee shop.” She touches her stomach, then raises her hands and makes small quote marks in the air with her fingers. “It’s inside my body right now.” She smirks.
“I see. I see. Fine.” He motions to the side. “Ok, will you please step around to the gate? I’ll let you though.” He points and smiles.
The woman nods and makes her way down the aisle towards the small gate. She waves back to the waiting room occupants as she passes through the tiny, batwing doors and a few people wave back begrudgingly.
“Ta-totally unfair…” the stuttering man whispers as she moves out of the room through the double doors. He looks over his shoulder to the row of chairs behind him where an anthropomorphic dog sits reading The Three Musketeers. “Right?”
The dog looks up from the book and glances at the man, then to the double doors as the swing closed. He shrugs and says, “Well, what are you gonna do?” and then goes back to reading.

Rise and Shine - version 02

 

Orange skies glisten and shine as a warm breeze drives the massive, prehistoric birds higher into the sky. Something wails in the dark forests to the north and black horses storm past me and shake the ground at my feet. My cool, brown skin glistens with sweet sweat as I toss my head back and feel….


“Rise and shine, Darla. Today is another wondrous cluster fuck.” The pre-programmed greeting used to make me wake up with a smile. I thought I was so cute. Now it just makes me mad.

The sheets pull off my bed and roll away and the R.E.M.brandt 2020 spins down and powers off taking my delicious dream with it. Sadness. I growl and smack my hand against the mattress. “I want to snooze!” I wail, but the computers know me too well and the LCD window goes from opaque to clear. Sunlight pours into the room and my eyes flutter. “Asshole computer.” I scratch my belly and yawn. I don’t want to be up and it makes me angry.

“Bacon, toast and coffee, Darla?” The voice is sweet and makes me even angrier.

“I’ll eat at work. Just coffee.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up to standing. I pull my panties out of my backside and make my way to the bathroom as the bed slides away into the wall.

“More sugar this time, please.” I yank my panties and t-shirt off and fling them back over my shoulder. TIDY scuttles out from it’s corner and gathers them up. It waddles off to the hamper hatch like some sort of club footed spider penguin. I stomp into the bathroom, pee, then I stand before the mirror. The sink slides out and bumps me in the legs with cold porcelain. I yelp and take a step back as I narrow my eyes and glower at my reflection. I squeeze my hips and hiss.

“You’re in need of more calcium and niacin, Darla. Shall I prepare a pill?”
I need to turn off the pee analyzer. I yank the sonic off the wall and run it over my teeth with an affirmative growl. I look myself over and sigh out loud. I pull the sonic out of my mouth and run my tongue over my ultra clean teeth. “Slip out the treadmill, Comps. I feel fat.” I frown and slide my hand over my right boob and down to my stomach. I squeeze it and then smack it hard. Jesus.

“I believe you are in need of toning, not weight loss. According to my calculations, you are within recommended weight allowances for your height, Darla. I suggest a regiment of toning exercises if you would like to achieve a better self awareness.” A small capsule drops into the tray before me and I swallow it down without water. Yum – calcium and niacin.

I roll my eyes and return to the bedroom to dress. “Fine. Do it, please. I’ll do whatever it is tonight after I get home.”

“As you wish, Darla.”
The closet opens and I scan the clothing coldly. I tap the hanger to the right and the skirt to my left, then kick the wedge my tan heels rest on. I stomp out of the closet and wait for the clothes to slide out.


I stare out the window as I sip at my coffee and grow later and later for work. The sun is large and orange in the sky. The bridge looks lovely, but I can only see part of it now that they’ve completed the fourth beach front office park building. TIDY works on my left heel, buffing out the scuff I incurred while exiting the bedroom. The coffee tastes sweet and delicious. Damn computers got that right for once.

“Check the calendar. Can I work from home today?” I bite my bottom lip and watch the Skybus drift by. It’s bulbous front angles in past the guides and its landing lights flutter. It descends by the park and people draw back as it comes to rest, then scurry on as the doors slide open.

I don’t feel like leaving. I glance at the TV and watch as someone shakes the Presidents hand – I don’t know who. Someone from the Middle Republic maybe? He has a beard. Large, armed A-Class Sentinels scan the crowd for signs of unrest or danger. Their metal bodies catch the lights and glisten – almost pretty.

“Charles Porter requested an in house meeting today to talk about the Coastal Shipments Requisition and Mary Johnson was scheduled for lunch at the Gate. Shall I reschedule?”
I place the coffee cup under the spout and wave my hand before the eye to refill it. “Call up a V.I.P. for me with Charles? See if he’s in the office yet and connect me if he’s clear.”

I move over to the wall screen when I hear the connection signal and the President disappears. A V.I.P. logo fills the screen and lets me know the connection is strong and secure and a connection clock starts as Charles appears. He looks good, as usual. Cleaned and pressed. His hair is cut short and his suit is patterned early deco. Nice touch. His Namecon is animated and alternates between Charles Porter and the Dobrý Dog Elektronika logo. It distracts, but he’s the boss.

“You’re a little late this morning, aren’t you?” He glances away to the right and back to the screen eye. “I see you’re still at home?”

“Can we postpone our meeting today, Charles? I’m really not feeling up to coming in. I can V.I.P. with you right now about the Invoices if you want to.” I drag a hand through my hair because I know he likes it. “Mind?”

He stares at me and then breaks a smile. “No worries. It can wait.” He frowns. “You ok, Darla?” Something moves in the background, but he has the narrow’s pitched up high, so it’s so out of focus I can’t tell what it is exactly.

I manage a smile. “Fine. I think my R.E.M.brandt just sunk me too low. I need to have it looked at.” I shrug it off.

He nods. “Ok, well, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Flying to China tomorrow, but I’ll see you the day after?” I slip my coat off as the smell of coffee reaches me. “San Francisco International to China via Chinair shuttle to meet with Song. Should be an easy one. He needs the process to roll smoothly and wants it done. I should be in and out same day.”

“Sounds good - enjoy the flight.” Someone off cam with long polished nails hands him a PDA.

"I'll try," I sigh out.

“Cheer up – talk to you later.” He sounds like he’s talking to his cat at the vet. So absent.

“Thanks, Charles. Bye.” V.I.P. goes dead and I drop my coat to the floor. “Thank God.” I draw in a deep breath. “Comps – reschedule today’s lunch with Mary Johnson. Friday at the Caff instead of the Gate if it works for her.” The Caff is her favorite and should take the sting out of the late cancellation.

TIDY snatches up my coat and moves off with it, but stops and returns for the heels I kick off in two different directions. Watching t try to decide which shoe to pick up first manages to bring a smile to my face.

“Shall I fix the bacon and toast, Darla, seeing as you are not going to work today?”
I think a moment. “I want a Poptart. No – two Poptarts. No bacon.” I pick up the coffee and gulp at it greedily as I watch three kids drift down the sidewalk out front on glowing red shoes.



Work doesn’t happen. I try to get a grip on he notes for my Song meeting, but the codes don’t match and I lose patience and shove them away. I’ll work on them on the flight. I start a comp for an invoice pattern, but loose interest so many times that I finally give up on work all together. I drink a glass of water and watch the people below walk by. They aren’t working, just moving along in the sun. I try to convince myself to leave the house, but I fail. I’m not sure I want to do anything today. I feel something tug at my sock and kick at it absently sending TIDY scuttling off with a string in a claw.



Steven calls and wants to come over, but he has “that look” in his eyes and I’m not in the mood for messing around right now. I wave him off and he’s a good sport about it. I play XB600 with him for kicks seeing as I’m not working anyway. I kick his ass at tennis with ease. The poor guy looks bored, but cheers up when I agree to play his strange little version of strip Thermals 4046. I excuse myself and change into a pair of shorts, t-shirt, hat and slippers so the game doesn’t go on for too long.

When I return to the wall screen, Steven is wearing a coat and hat. I have Comps dim down the window to black, grin and dive into the game. I instantly regret not wearing a bra as I bounce and dodge. I grip the control and clench the fist in the control glove tight. Swords and sorcery among the ruins, dragons on some lava planet, and two battles on giant water snakes with golden eyes. The graphics are so real that I scream when his snake lunges at mine. I feel ridiculous. I let Steven win and congratulate him standing naked in the living room. I figure I owe it to him. No need talk about how we say our goodbyes.



Hours pass and something like melancholy fills me up and I can’t seem to shake it. I feel dingy as I cycle the air in the house, then slip into my t-shirt and sweats. I make a standard call to my mother, but she’s golfing in Hawaii and seems distracted. I tell her about the China trip, but swear that I can hear her swing the club. She grunts something into her headset, then asks me to bring her sweet cakes and dumplings back. “You know the ones I like, dear.” She barks something at her bot. She seems so far away. It's always the same. Kiss kiss and she's gone.


I stomp back into the living room and stand before the blank wall screen. I can’t think. I don’t want to, really.

“Comps?”

“Yes, Darla?”
“Show me something beautiful?”

"Yes, Darla. One moment, please." Comps chews on it for a while. They are good at referencing what I’ve enjoyed before and within seconds they have cross-referenced everything that has caused a beauty response in me over the past five years.

The wall screen glows and a mist filled forest comes into view in rich, bold, DHD detail. I feel like I can walk through the screen. Ferns move ever so slightly in a small breeze. A fog of some sort dances between large redwood trees. The sound of falling water comes from somewhere in the distance and some dots of color can be seen among the foliage – wildflowers in bloom. I fight the urge to ask where the footage came from because I don’t want to know if it’s real or just some grand 3D experience render.

I sit on the floor and reach up on the table for the fourth Poptart of the day. My eyes well up with tears and I take a bite. Crumbs fall on my chest and bounce along the floor. TIDY waddles out and makes it’s way towards the crumbs on it’s spidery legs.

“Comps, turn TIDY off and put it away, please.” I don’t know why, but I’m somewhat sick of the little things like TIDY always cleaning and tidying up. “Turn everything off. The whole house except what I’m using right now.” I wipe at my eyes with my shirt.

Comps does what it’s told. The dishwasher closes as the last dish is loaded. TIDY tick-tacks it’s way back into the wall.

“Shall I leave the window open?”
“Dim it, please. 20%.”

The Beach Front Business Center fades away. I drop the last bit of Poptart into my mouth and face the wall screen. I listen as birds sing and the water babbles away. I close my eyes.

“Screen off.” The wall goes dark.

I can still hear the sounds in my head. The house is quiet.

I lay down on the floor and stretch my arms up over my head. My sweats feel nice against my skin. I can barely hear the skybus outside as it cruises by. I snatch a pillow off the sofa and slide it under my head.

“Comps – off off off.” I hear the soft beep chime three times and the computers go offline. The fans of the refrigerator sweep up for a moment before going quiet themselves.

I don’t think of tomorrow’s China trip. I don’t think of Steve. I don’t think of the Coastal Shipments Requisition.

I just listen to the silence.

Crate

“This is Patrick and I’m Tom. I spoke with you on the phone.”

The truck’s lights cast strange shadows on the man’s face as he spoke. His eyes twinkled in the orange glow of the Mac truck's running lights.

The moon hung high in the night sky and the stars shone brightly. Fog settled off the coast, but didn’t seem to be moving in like it had the few nights before. It was cold and clear and bright, but something seemed very stuffy about the air. Some sort of pressure front was playing with the atmosphere.

The thing man before Tom Archer nodded, half listening. “Yes, yes.”

“Is this the only container we’re moving?” Patrick ran his hand over the stubble on his chin and stared blankly at the large container on the dolly. His broad shoulders rolled and he knelt down. “We can strap this in and down behind the other boxes in the 150, Tom. No need for the Mac.”

“There are issues that I’ve spoken to Mr….um…Tom…about. We want it secured and within a containment area. Not in the back of a pickup truck, Patrick.” The thin man pressed his glasses higher on his beak-like nose and addressed Tom again. “Are all the arrangements agreed on, Tom? Are we ready to move it?” His words were nervous and tight. He smelled of liquor and, though he was clean cut and well dressed, he seemed somewhat disheveled and out of sorts. His thinning hair blew around on his head and he slid a hand over it to push it back into place. Patrick thought his skin looked gray.

“Sure thing. And the money is fine as well.” Tom watched as lights crested on the hill, then turned off on the main road. The warehouse they were parked in front of was completely dark – the high barbed fence that surrounded it whistled as the wind came up.

“Yes, yes – fine.” The thin man moved to his car and glanced around uncomfortably before opening it and pulling out the envelope within. A soft ding emanated from the vehicle and repeated over and over until the door was shut again.

Patrick stood and examined the crate. It was around seven feet high and three feet across. The wood wasn’t your standard variety crate wood, but something thicker and stronger. He moved around it and noticed that there was a small panel built into the side of it at about the five foot level. He narrowed his eyes and ran a hand over the surface. It was made to slide open. He started to push on the panel.

“NO!” The thin man placed a hand on Patrick’s chest and looked over to Tom. “I thought I made it very clear, Thomas.”

Tom smiled. What did this dude think? That if he talked like he was his Dad he’d be scared or something? “Yeah, I just needed to go over that with Patrick. No worries.” He waved a hand towards the crate and shook his head. “No peeking. Don’t ask don’t tell gig, amigo.”

“Ahh…sorry. Got it.” Patrick nodded. “Sorry – didn’t know.” He folded his arms across his barrel chest. “Sorry. Got it.”

The thin man eyed him and then mustered a very weak smile before handing the envelope to Tom.

“It’s all there, but you can count it if you need to. We need to get moving, however. This needs to be in San Francisco before the sun rises. We don’t need people seeing you roll into the destination.”

“No problem.” Tom opened the envelope and flipped through the money absently. “And another three thousand when we get there, yeah?”

“Correct.”

Patrick’s eyebrows perked. Nice haul for five hours on the road.

“Well then, let’s roll out, huh?” Tom smiled a wide, wolfish smile.





The crate was a bitch to load. The thin man watched every move Tom and Patrick made like a hawk uttering warnings and cautions with each move. Once loaded, the crate was tied in and secured with a series of ropes and straps. It wasn’t going anywhere. They parted ways and Tom and Patrick started off North West towards San Francisco.


One hour later, Tom pulled off to the side of the road and killed the truck’s engine.

“What are you doing? Pee break?” Patrick laughed. “Pussy.”

“I’m going to check out that crate.” Tom grinned.

“Don’t ask don’t tell job, man. Why do you want to go fucking around with that crate? Let’s just go get our green on.” Patrick slapped Tom’s arm. “Fuck it.”

“Mr. Stork was way too worried about this thing back there. If it’s major, we can move it along through Raffi or Serge and pull in some serious money instead of a mere six g. Move up. Let’s check it out.” Tom felt Patrick’s firm grip around his arm as he flung the door open wide. He looked back with a smile and barked, “What?”

Patrick’s brown face didn’t smile back. He was serious. “Come on.”

Tom pulled free and jumped from the cab. He moved around to the trailer and heard Patrick jump out and follow around on the other side.

The roll up door slammed open with a clatter and the inside lights flickered to life providing a dim glow of sickly yellow light. Tom climbed up with Patrick close behind.

“Dude, fuck this. Let’s just roll.”

“Easy – this isn’t a big deal.” Tom glanced right, then jerked around to the left of the crate looking for the sliding panel. He yanked a flashlight from the small, built in shelf and switched it on. “Now, let’s see what we are touring with here.”

Patrick made one final grab for Tom’s arm, but Tom pulled away and shouted, “Don’t.” His smile was gone. Patrick frowned and backed away. He looked out the back of the trailer and was obviously pissed, but Tom didn’t care. He sniffed and caught a musky smell. He pressed his nose to his armpit and sniffed again. He narrowed his eyes and glanced over towards the crate.

Tom pressed the panel and tried to slide it open. It didn’t move. The wood was cold to the touch, which he found strange. His eyes narrowed as he ran the flashlight beam along the panel’s edges looking for some sort of latch or clip.

Something inside the crate shifted and thumped against the side.

Tom and Patrick stared at the crate for a minute before Tom continued his search.

“Tom?” Patrick cocked his head to the side and leaned forward. He heard something inside make a sound. Something like a moan or a purr. Then, it thumped again, but harder this time.

“This is interesting,” Tom said in a whisper as he tried to slide the panel again. He didn’t seem to hear the movement inside.

Patrick placed a hand on the wood and listened.

“Ah, wax or something here on top. They sealed it. Probably to make sure we didn’t mess around with it. Smart.” Tom reached for his hip to get his leatherman tool, but stopped short when he heard something slide up the crate wall from the inside.

Something pounded the sides of the crate from inside and both man jumped and pressed back against the sides of the trailer. Something was angry and wanted out. It hit the sides over and over again, but didn’t seem to be making any headway in freeing itself.

Patrick stared at Tom with wide eyes and placed a finger over his lips when Tom started to talk at the crate, shaking his head for him to be quiet.

Tom went silent.

The pounding continued for a minute, then started to slow. After a time, the banging stopped all together. A low, deep growl rumbled from the crate and the two men looked at each other.


The roll door of the trailer slammed shut and Tom cranked the latch down hard, then slipped the lock into place and bashed it shut roughly before shoving Patrick’s shoulder. “Go.” He ran around the opposite side to the trucks cab, climbed in, and started the engine.

Patrick slammed his door and locked it.

Tom flipped on the lights and gripped the wheel. He popped the clutch too fast and the cab rattled and the engine died. “Shit.”

“Ok…wait a minute. Hold up.” Patrick raised a hand. “We’re cool. Let’s just chill out a minute.” He nodded and patted the dash. “We got this, whatever it is is cool back there, and all we gotta do is drive.” He took a deep breath and the smell of burritos and sweat filled his lungs. Patrick sat back in his seat and dragged the seat belt over himself.

Tom followed suit and clicked his into place as well. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life again. He gripped the wheel and looked over to Patrick. His face drooped and he opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing.

“Hey, we’re cool. Let’s roll, man. No need for talking.” Patrick wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then flipped on the radio. Tom Petty let them know that he was free falling and Patrick turned it up.

Dirt swirled around the trucks wheels and rose into the cool, crisp air as it pulled back onto the road and made it’s way towards the freeway.

Her Evil

The hand swiped across the face of the clock half heartedly – as if it too had little consideration for the time anymore. The light dimmed slowly as the sun dripped back down into the ocean for the day. Tim Franz stared out the window and watched the wind bat his flowers around sending their pollen, in his opinion, into a spiral directly into his eyes. He rubbed at them with both hands and pressed his fingers into the sockets. For a moment, he didn’t trust himself not to keep pressing. Pushing his eyes in and squishing them into pulp.

“You doing ok there, Timmy?”

Tim’s hands fell to his sides and his eyes opened slowly. He turned and looked to his unwanted guest.

She smiled like the village idiot and toyed with her black hair. Her outfit was surprisingly tame – a small skirt with nylons and a shirt that actually covered her completely. She leaned against the wall and sighed. “Wish I knew you were still sick. I would have brought you a roasted chicken or whatever it is.” She smirked.

“No need. I just need sleep, really. But, thanks. Did you need something?”

“If not, are you planning on sending me packing, Tim? Shove me back out into the night?” She smiled wide.

“I really need to get some sleep.” He sighed back and glanced at his watch. Only eight o’clock. Hardly grounds for dismissal alone. “And this cold and all. I have a big day tomorrow and need to just crash out.”

She looked around the apartment. “Drink for old time’s sake? I won’t stay long. I’m meeting someone and was just looking to kill some time.”

Kill some time. As long as that’s all it was. He fought a battle in his head and his brain and heart told him to shove her out, slam the door and lock it as fast as he could. Kick her first to ensure a proper seal on the door. He didn’t need a battle on his doorstep. Swift kick or push, door slams, locks, then he’d call the police as she yelled whatever she wanted outside. The neighbors would understand. He was sure of it.

“Guess one drink is ok.” He stepped backwards and was shocked at the words that had come from his own mouth.

“Good boy,” the woman purred as she strolled in and looked around. “You changed some things around. It looks nice.” The back of her shirt was open, her skin gleaming in the light from the outside hall lamp. She moved into the living area, spun on her heel, and dropped onto the sofa with a huff. “SUCH a day, Tim. You would NOT believe.” She rolled her eyes and looked in the direction of the kitchen. “Have any of that delicious Eagle Rare whiskey about? I could use a little to take the edge off.” She crossed her legs in a ladylike fashion, but managed to expose her panties in a most un-ladylike way.

Tim frowned as if thinking and averted his eyes. “I think I do have some left. I’ll pour a glass for us.” He smiled a large, fake smile and hurried past her and into the kitchen.

“So, you still liking the new arrangements? The new gig is still working well for you and keeping you out of trouble?” She fingered a magazine, flipping the pages harshly and managing to tear one on every fourth flip or so. She didn’t wait for an answer. “So glad you’re doing well there, really.”

“Thanks.” Tim dropped three cubes of ice into the two glasses on the counter, then poured a healthy amount of the whiskey over them. The ice popped and cracked and Tim thought of spines breaking.

“And besides this fictional cold, you have your health, which is nice.” She grinned and held out her hand for the proffered glass. She took it from Tim and let a nail slip over his wrist as she took it from him. “All’s well in Timlandia.” She winked and sipped at the whiskey, then purred again as she rolled the glass around slightly sending the ice spinning languidly in the glass.

“All good.” Tim sat across from her and gulped at the contents of his glass like a drowning man clutching the sides of a life raft.

“Why are you sitting so far away, Tim? Sit over here.” She patted the sofa.
“Cold.” He shrugged. “Don’t want to get you sick.”

“I can’t catch a fictional fucking cold, Tim.” She sighed and patted the sofa again looking agitated.

Tim stared at the sofa, then pried himself up out of his chair. He quavered, half stepping forward, then stopping himself in his tracks. “I really can’t do this right now. I think you should head out. I’m really not feeling-.” The sentence was stricken down from the air before he could finish it.

“Stop being such a pain in the arse, Timmy. You’re really starting to annoy me with all this scared bullshit.” She took another long draw on the glass, then let it drop to the end table roughly before standing up and facing Tim eye to eye. “You have gotten worse, not better. Telling me little lies, are you? You look like shite!”

Tim wanted to run. He wanted to bolt and fly out the door. Maybe tossing a match over his shoulder and setting the whole place on fire as he did. Taking her with it, of course. The blaze cutting off her means of escape. Oh bliss. “I think you should go.”

“Do you?” She stared into his face, her eyes blazing. “Do you, Tim?”

He felt sick. His head ached with each pulse. “I don’t want you in my life anymore. Just leave, please.”

“Whaa.” She giggled. “Timmy, you really need to come to grips with just who you are.” She touched his chest lightly. “And, just who I am.” She withdrew her hand and brought it to her chest. Her red nails slid over the material of her blouse and she drew her ruby red lips back into a wicked smile.

Tim stared at her and blinked hard as he watched her eyes go all crazy like they used to. He shuddered.

“Tim, if you really didn’t want me back in your life again, why on Earth did you open the God damn door?” Her slight English accent slithered across the surface of her words like a snake. “I mean, why didn’t you just keep the door shut tight? Leave me outside and let me scream my head off? Call the police on me? Anything but open that door.” She sighed and turned to face the window. “Your decision making is complete shit, you know?” She laughed and patted his cheek.

Tim backed away from her. “Look, I really just wanted things to be peaceful. Quiet. I don’t want trouble and I thought the easiest way would be to just…let you in and be done with it.” He swallowed hard. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think you should-“

“Shut up, Tim, you spineless twat,” she sneered and moved around the corner and into the kitchen.

Tim blinked and his mouth went slack for a moment before he blurted out, “What are you doing?!” He heard drawers opening and closing. He heard the last drawer opened and slammed shut hard after something was removed from it. He glanced around the room for some weapon. Something to defend himself. “Oh Gawd,” he mutterd. He made a move towards the door, but she blocked him and smiled wide. Her arm was twisted back behind her back.

“Where you going? Out? You have that dreadful cold, Timmy. You should stay in or you’ll catch your DEATH!” She moved towards him. “You need rest. A long rest.”

Tim’s arms rose before him and he whimpered, “Stay back?” It sounded like more of a question than a demand.

“You’re sick. A poor, sick soul in need of something.” She brought her hand forward with a rush and flicked her wrist out in a sharp, quick snapping motion in Tim’s direction.

The towel in her hand caught him in the scrotum and he doubled over. “SHIT!”

“To bed with you, you little bitch!” She spun the towel and sent it whipping out again. “OFF with you!” The towel snapped his leg and another whipping caught his left butt cheek as he turned to try and avoid her.

“Damn it, Sissy!” Tim ran for his room.

“Don’t give me any lip. I’ll cancel my plans and make you some tea. Shoo!” She flipped the towel up and onto her shoulder as she watched him retreat into his room. She kicked her heels off and slid them towards the wall as she reached into her purse and withdrew her phone.

“Hey, Dani, it’s me. Yeah, I’m not going to make it over after all. I’m going to take care of Tim. Yeah, he’s still no better. I’m gonna make him some tea and maybe order in for the night.” She listened and smiled. “Yeah yeah…I’m such a sweet sister, I know.” She giggled. “Fine then – cheers.” She hung up and moved to the refrigerator. Her eyes scanned the menus until she found what she was looking for and dialed.

"Golden Flower - delivery or pick up?"

“Hey there. Delivery, please. What’s a good soup for a cold?” She snatched up the teapot with her free hand and wondered what was on the tube.