iGet a Life- an iCarly fanfic
A/N: DON'T ASK QUESTIONS. I know. I went from Metalocalypse to Superjail to iCarly. I'm a horrible person and deserve to be shot. Still, I always loved Jeremy Rowley's characters (the crazy guy from that Amanda Show skit "Blockblister" who tore off his own arm- I was just a little kid, but I laughed my ass off!), and Lewbert is just too amusing not to write about. And yes, in case you're wondering, I do mostly watch the show for Jeremy Rowley and Jerry Trainor. I dunno why, but those two just strike me as yummy men. Very outside my usual addictions, but hey- I think I'm entitled. Anyway, if anyone likes this, I'll make it a full fic, but if not, I'll keep it as a one-shot. So speak up if you want more! Enjoy.
The lobby in the Bushwell Plaza apartment buildings was quiet that Saturday evening. The gentle drizzle outside pattered against the glass doors, reminding the man behind the desk that he was still awake and still breathing.
It was oddly peaceful at that hour; six o' clock was usually bustling with people returning from work or their daily outings. Others were just beginning such travels. But the Seattle rain was strangely cool that night, and the people strangely settled.
Perhaps this unusual lull in the world around him accounted for his own mood- he had been agitated the entire day, since he rolled off the disheveled couch in his shabby, distended apartment. But when the rain had begun to patter down from the heavens, he had become pacified- nearly morose.
Lewbert Sline sighed, shifting positions to prop his head up on his hand, subconsciously covering his wart when he caught his own reflection in the lobby door. The stress-induced facial deformity was now as much a part of him as his eyes, nose, and mouth, but there were certain days when he loathed the fact that it existed. Still, he did nothing to attempt to alleviate the fact that it did.
He licked the tip of his finger to flip the page of the magazine he was occupying his time with, but his mind was elsewhere. Another place, another time, where he owned the world and no one could stop him. Except the woman who did, of course, but he flinched at the mere unnamed thought, and tried not to dwell.
He was only thirty-four years old, but he felt at least a hundred that evening. His promising modeling career- when he was handsome and fit- had left him a lifeless Seattle doorman with an attitude problem and no friends. People who hated him eventually began to understand him- that Carly Shay girl..the loud one with the webshow...she was beginning to see the big picture. Then again, she had brought the she-devil from his past back and forced him to escape to the safety of prison as a result.
Lewbert felt low. Lower than dirt. He had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to talk to. His mind would not stay focused on the article about the proper care of crystal doorknobs he was trying to read, but instead kept flashing back to chunks of his life where things hadn't seemed so bad. But who was he to wallow in the past? If there was one good quality left in him, it was that Lewbert Sline never looked back.
Except for that night.
It was then that the lobby door opened soundlessly, gliding across the spotless floor while a pair of shoes stepped in from the rain. The doorman didn't acknowledge his new company, barely even realizing anything in his personal sanctuary had changed. The newcomer turned in the doorway, flicking their umbrella a few times and then snapping it closed.
Lewbert sniffed, catching the strengthened scent of rain...and something else. Lavender, it occurred to him after a moment. He sighed again, turning the page of his magazine once again, and then cautiously glancing up.
The sight that greeted him nearly startled him out of his chair. He jumped, desperately holding back an anxious cry of terror, but forced himself to relax. He felt the same old constriction in his chest, the panic swell in his gut and rise into his throat. Lewbert's heart thumped against his ribcage, his fingers twitching nervously on the countertop. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
It was his usual greeting to anyone new.
However, the woman who stood before him either didn't notice or didn't care about his reaction. She smiled softly, looking nervous herself.
Lewbert sized her up, nearing agitation once again. He wasn't in the mood to be bothered. Then again, he wasn't in the mood to be agitated, either. He sighed again, resisting the urge to yell at her.
"Whaddya want?" He growled, his eyes flicking from his magazine to her face. She stopped looking around, appearing bashful.
"Uhm...hi. I'm new here...I'm visiting my aunt. Could you tell me what apartment she's in, please?"
Lewbert was genuinely surprised. This woman didn't ask the perpetually annoying questions most women did: "are you, like, the doorman?" "Do you like, work here?" And the always pleasant, "Oh my God, what happened to your face?" She was also direct, and seemed halfway intelligent. This shocked the man so much that he forgot to be crude with his answer.
"Uh, yeah. What's her name?" He cast his glance down at the list of tenants in the book on his desk.
"Priscilla Reynolds." She didn't phrase it as a question. He could appreciate that.
Lewbert jabbed a finger at the list of tenants, locating the "r"'s and easily finding Ms. Reynolds.
"Yeah. Apartment 5F." He grunted, disinterested.
To his surprise, the woman smiled, extending her hand.
"Thanks. I'm Jacqueline Bailey, but most people call me Jackie."
Lewbert stared at her hand for a moment, trying desperately to remember what he was supposed to do with it. When it occurred to him to shake hands, he sheepishly grabbed the outstretched appendage and shook it jerkily.
"Lewbert Sline." He muttered, not meeting her eyes. She looked at him a moment longer before picking up the bags on the floor again and starting for the main elevator.
"Well, goodnight, Lewbert! Nice meeting you!" Jackie called over her shoulder before the mechanical door slid shut.
"Yeah, whatever." Lewbert waved her off, feeling raw and violated by life. It wasn't fair that a woman like her should see him now instead of ten years ago. Life was cruel that way.
The elevator mechanisms whirred in the distance of the lobby, and in the recesses of his mind. Such negative thoughts would not leave his abused, broken brain, and try as he might, Lewbert could not get the face of the woman out of his mind. It reminded him of everything he could have had, once. An amazing career, a beautiful wife, a family...
He ignored the wet spots forming on the page and wrinkling the words he was trying to read.