"SO LONELY"
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I pawed at the alarm clock, trying to stop the irritating noise. Then I realized that I didn’t have an alarm clock. It wasn’t an alarm clock buzzing at all, it was my phone. Ringing. I was cold, where the hell did my good blanket go? How much did I drink last night? Didn’t matter. I picked up the phone.
“Hullo.”
“Mr. Calico.” It was a lady, and she sounded like she was making a statement, not asking a question.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Calico, this is Pamela Shelly. I was calling to see if any…progress has been made…since we last talked.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bitch? Calling me up, checking up on me! You don’t trust me to do my job? Like I’m not going to give you all the information as soon as I get it! Fucking classist bitch, where do you get off?” At least, that’s what I was thinking before I remembered that there HAD been progress made; and that I had promised to call her this morning to let her know if I got the pictures or not. Fuck, I’m a mess.
“Uh, yeah. But I don’t think we should discuss it over the phone. Can you meet for lunch, same place as last time?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, see you there.” And I hung up the phone. Shit, I needed a shower.
I needed to check my camera and see what photos I got. I was too tired and hung over to remember much of the previous night and needed to get myself straightened out before I made any commitments to the Shelly woman. I wandered out of my bedroom to get some coffee. My apartment was small, but I didn’t mind. I don’t own a lot of stuff so what did it matter. Five steps across the living room and I was in the kitchenette, salivating over some instant coffee.
The coffee didn’t do much to wake me up, but I guess it never got a chance to. I turned around and dropped the mug. Landing on the carpet, it didn’t break, which was fortunate because it’s my only coffee cup, but the coffee was going to leave a stain. None of this mattered of course because I was too distracted by the naked girl sleeping on my couch. At least I assumed she was naked under my good blanket. That explains where my blanket went. She’s gotta be naked.
Probably.
She was lying on her side, face buried into the couch cushion. She was nestled up tightly under the blanket, one naked leg sticking out one end and her short black hair ruffled by the pillow on the other end.
I took a few deep breathes and tried to keep from gawking at her leg, but my eyes wouldn’t pull away. Where did this girl come from? She looked much too young to be with a guy like me.
She rolled over. She was definitely too young for me. Her pert little nose twitched uncontrollably, one arm fell out from under the blanket and dangled off the edge of the couch. She had a warm, familiar face. God, I’m lonely. I should go see Sandy. She’d take care of me.
Always has since my wife left.
Of course, it had to be at this moment, the moment of my gawking, horny, resentment, that the girl opened her eyes and let out the appropriate scream.
I stumbled backwards, my feet tripping up in some kind of loose fabric, causing me to come down on my back hard. The girl ran into the bathroom. I laid there for some minutes, afraid to move for fear of having broken something. This would be an appropriate end for me, I suppose.
After a few minutes, I craned my neck up (nothing broken there) to see what I had tripped on.
It was a wig. A blonde wig. The fragmented memories of last night came flooding back. The bodies, the blood, the girl…the costume. Shit, she wears a blonde wig. The girl that I was lecherously eyeballing was the same girl I swore to help last night. What the fuck’s wrong with me? She probably thinks I’m going to rape her now and locked herself in my bathroom. Damn, and I need to get cleaned up before meeting with Mrs. Shelly. Shit, what time was it anyway?
I looked at my wall clock. It read 11:43. Christ, no time for a shower anyway, but I can’t leave with that girl locked in my bathroom.
I pulled myself up off the floor and made my way toward the bathroom.
“Listen, uh,” I paused, trying to remember her name,” Jen, Jennifer. Listen, sorry if I startled you. I’m, uh, not used to other people being in my house.”
Silence.
I continued,” Look, I need to go, some work things to take care of. I won’t be gone long. There’s really not much in the fridge, sorry. I’ll bring some food back, though.”
More silence.
“Okay, well…well I’ll be back in like, an hour. Bye.”
I threw on some clothes and grabbed my camera and my coat and made my way out. My apartment was on the third floor of a rundown building sandwiched between two other rundown buildings in a rundown neighborhood. It’s no castle, but it’s cheap. And cheap suits me just fine.
The meeting with Mrs. Shelly went surprisingly well. I hadn’t developed the pictures yet, but I told her what I saw and that the pictures were coming. She took it surprisingly well, she didn’t seem to want to make excuses for her husband at all. Which I don’t mind at all because it makes my job that much easier. The meeting took ten minutes; we didn’t even get food, just some coffee. Truthfully, there wasn’t anything that couldn’t have been said over the phone. But if I hadn’t met her in person, then I couldn’t have squeezed another check out of her.
So that went well. I cashed the check at a gas station and picked up some food for Jennifer, some Scotch for myself, and filled up the gas tank with the leftover money. So I was at least set for another week or so.
I was trying to feel good as I parked across the street from my apartment, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Jennifer. Secretly, I hoped she had run off while I was gone and I’d never hear from her again. But that wouldn’t keep me from worrying about her. But hey, that’s what the Scotch was for, right?
But whatever good feelings I could sum up from a bag full of groceries and a fresh bottle of Scotch were instantly diminished when I saw the police squad car parked along the curb right outside my apartment.
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