Letting people win should be illegal.
"ADAM!" I scream. The water in the shower turned from a sauna to an icy waterfall. I shut the water off and grab my robe. That boy is dead. I can hear the toilet still flushing. I'm going to kill him. I'll toss him out the window from the fifth floor of the apartments, then say he was trying to get a good shot but fell over the side. It was a tragegy, and I'll miss him so much. What a load of a crap.
"Yes, Emma?" Adam said through the door of the bathroom.
"You're dead," I mutter, my hair dripping onto the broken tiles.
"Looks like it's a tie for now," he says. I hear his footsteps fade away from the door. I tie my green robe tighter and slam the door open. I can sense Adam stifling laughter. Dead.
"I have a job interview," I say as I emerge from my bedroom, dressed in my rocker t-shirt over a black thermal, my old dark skinny jeans getting even more rips in them. I toss on my black boots.
"With who?" Adam asks from the kitchen. He's not drinking orange juice or milk. It's water.
"This weird rock band from Sante Fe."
"Ah, that's why the attire." I find my favorite hat. It has so many tiny little colours knitted in it. It's got a mostly orange and blue tone to it, though. It even has cute little pom-poms that hang down from the strings on each side. I grab my brown leather jacket and put it on.
"Duh," I reply a little late. Adam grins.
"If you would let me dress you, I could come up with so many cute outfits. But you usually just dress in t-shirts and jeans. Man, would it kill you to wear a dress now and then?" He asks.
"Oh, go be a metro somewhere else. And yes, it would kill me," I shoot back. Adam throws his head back in laughter.
"Honey, I'm not metro. You of all people know that." Adam takes a drink of water. "And you'd look very nice in a dark purple dress with some red heels. Then put that silver necklace that George left here on, let me do your hair, and you'd be a styling babe," he adds.
"Whatever," I groan. I stick my wallet in my pocket and grab my bag full of song-writing materials. Adam waves me off.
Walking through the streets of New York, I feel the need for a good coffee. I could have made one at home, but I don't need Adam nagging me anymore today. I find the Starbucks and enter it. A nice German chocolate iced coffee sounds really good in a 20 oz. I get in the slightly large line and wait, tapping my foot against the floor. I hope I look okay for my meeting in an hour. I should have straightened my hair. I tug on my redish brown curls. Then I see him.
Benny.
Oh, snap.
And Benny sees me.
Oh, snap. Oh, snap.
Benny starts walking over.
Oh, snap, oh, snap, OH, SNAP!
"Emma, long time no see!"
"Benny."
"How's Adam?"
"Fine."
"You look pretty today."
"Interview."
"Ah. Can you say anything but one word?"
"Still married to Buffy?"
"Allison."
"Whatever," I mutter. Benny looks me over again. He gives me a puzzled look.
"How'd you know, anyway?" he asks.
"You didn't answer my question," I say.
"It's complicated," he replies. "How'd you know?"
"Adam's idol is Mark. We go over a lot."
"That must be awkward."
"It is," I say. It's silent between the two of us. Benny is the first to speak.
"So, Emma. Do you want have dinner sometime?"
"No. My fridge can't handle another break-up."
"Sorry about that."
Silence. There's just something about Benny.
"Please? A friendly dinner. You can take Adam," he proposes.
"Maybe."