Happy Kwanzaa, Hanukkah and Christmas everyone! Hope you are all enjoying your holidays with nothing but great people and happy tummies :) I'm trying to get the ball rolling on this, especially since this and next chapter are filler chapters. Chapter 9 should be interesting... if the plot flows according to plan. And I'm trying SUPER hard to update as quickly as I can since 2010 is undoubtedly going to be busy for me and I fear I may not update as often as I'd like to :(
Okay, so... I LOVE YOU GUYS... ALL of you, whether you read/subscribe/review/drink coffee! I want to make individual shouty shouts, but this AN might be longer than the chapter. To sum up, as Lalalalee said, I do owe you guys! So I will do my uber best to try and stick around like saltwater taffy in your teeth. THANK YOU for all the support! And thank you, lil grasshopper and Joce for beta-ing!
Enjoy! :) 12.26.09
Disclaimer: I don't own South of Nowhere or the characters.
I honestly didn't know how much of the scene was caught on camera… or if it had caught anything at all.
Every day at 8 AM, the morning crew is responsible for changing out the 24-hour DAT surveillance tape in the recorder sitting next to Charles' filing cabinets. He has 7 tapes clearly labeled for each day of the week. When the tapes are in use for that specific day, they overwrite the recording from the week prior. That's cheapo Charles for ya… too cheap to buy the computerized recorders so that things are documented for longer. He figured no one would be interested in robbing a café anyway.
I switched in the Tuesday tape and placed the Monday label onto a blank tape before putting yesterday's tape in my purse. Donny and Aiden are the ones who usually work the recorder on my morning shifts. I'm sure Donny wouldn't mind the least that I've done it for him.
"What happened down here?" "I am so calling Charles!"
I jumped, hearing Jenna's voice echo from down the steps. I looked over and saw her making her way over the mess with a look of disbelief.
"Had a little accident." I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. I even unconsciously folded my hands behind my back like a 5-year-old with a burning secret.
"A little accident?" "Oh believe me, firing you won't be an accident." "Spencer, I hardly call that—" Her look of disbelief turned into slight concern when she saw me and my fancy face accessory. "Are you okay?" Jenna walked up the steps slowly.
When you work in a café, no one expects you to dress up like you're working for Wall Street, not even Charles. But as the assistant manager, Jenna felt it necessary that she establish herself as a serious professional, seeing as how she was older than us by only a few years... and shorter than us by a few inches. Needless to say, the title gave her quite an ego boost. She mainly worked behind the scenes in Charles' office, occasionally coming down onto the floor to briefly boss us around.
"Yeah," I tried to nod it off nonchalantly, "I'm fine. The beam just caught me on the way down."
"Really? The racks just came tumbling down on you?" She squinted in speculation. "That's never happened before."
"Well, the racks aren't secured to the wall," I attempted to convince her, "and most of the items were placed on the higher shelves, making the whole thing unbalanced." I said as much as I could to cover my own ass, seeing as Jenna had her brown nose list… and I wasn't on it.
"Hmm," she contemplated. "Bullshit." "Well, that's unfortunate."
That's unfortunate? What kind of… who says that?!
Her medium-length red hair swung around her shoulders as she walked back down the steps and asked Donny about it. I walked down into the storage to grab some ice from the ice maker.
Jenna's quite the crazed bitch. Aiden told me that the morning shift from Sunday caught her going ape shit over the fact that someone blew chunks right by the backdoor. (Whoops!) Charles came in later that day, and even he had to calm her down.
"Yeah," I heard Donny blending a drink as he spoke with Jenna, "she was taking stock and it just toppled over."
"And you were…?"
"Attending to a customer." He calmly replied. "Maybe you can talk to Charles about those shelves?" For some reason, she always believes Donny's words over mine. He might as well be her boss since she'll practically do anything he asks her to. Probably because of her insane crush on him… and her sexual fantasies of doing him on the countertops.
Donny would be so cocky if he knew.
"Spencer?" She poked her head into the stock room.
"Hmm?"
"How are you feeling?" Jenna plastered on a smile. Donny seems to be the only one who can change her mood by just talking to her. Ugh.
"I'm feeling alright." I gently placed the ice bag on my forehead. "I can work." My smile was just as fake.
"Sorry about the accident." I appreciated her apology, but she really sucks at faking sincerity. "I'll talk to Charles about installing secured shelves, and I'll ask the night shift not to stack heavy items on the tops." "You better not file for workers comp!"
"Thanks."
"In the meantime, just… take stock of what we need to reorder and see if you can tidy this up a bit." She gestured to the mess as if I was her personal servant or something.
"Yup." I grabbed the dustpan as she trudged up the steps.
Bzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz.
I reached into my pocket and grabbed my cell. I got a text from Madison…
4got to mention… m.a.c sale! come by after work during my lunch. i set aside the usual.
I replied… yay! c u then!
Madison always sets aside the liquid eyeliner and mascara I love. She is the best roommate… ever!
Shift went by faster than I had expected. My body ached from being so damn tired and even my eyes were starting to burn. But I had my caffeine fix every chance I got. I spent the majority of the morning helping Donny cover the floor until the rush hour ended around 10. I then spent the rest of my shift "tidying up" the mess I made in the storage room. Come 2 o'clock, I was ready to call it a day.
"Hey loser," I teased Donny, "Enjoy washing down for the second shift." I mockingly chortled before making sure I had everything in my purse, surveillance tape included.
"Yeah, well," he quickly wiped the countertop before looking up at me, "at least I'm not the goober with a Hello Kitty band-aid on my forehead."
Yeah, yeah… whatev—
"Wha?" His words sank in as I furrowed in shock. I reached in my purse for my compact and took a quick look, gasping at the discovery. How could I have missed that?! "Ugh," I scrunched my face and combed my bangs over the colorful band-aid, "I'll catch you later, Donny."
"Later, Spence." He snickered.
The afternoon was brisk and gloomy. You could tell the sun was trying to shine from behind those clouds… or was that the LA smog? The ground was wet from the morning drizzle. I walked as quickly as I could back to my apartment, hoping it wouldn't rain anytime soon.
When I got home, I was nearly deafened by the barrage of machine gun noises. I leaned over and saw Aiden completely engulfed in his little Halo video game, energetically mashing on a combination of buttons on the game controller.
"Hey Aiden."
"Pwned, bitch!" He laughed. He definitely had on his game face, headset on and everything. "That's what you get for camping out, asshole!"
"Whatever, dickwad!" I heard a little boy's voice from the television speaker.
"Shouldn't you be playing Lego's with your babysitter?" Aiden taunted.
"Your mom's my babysitter!" I giggled at the ballsy kid who barely sounded five.
"Am I interrupting?" I stifled my laughter, placing my keys on the countertop.
"Oh," Aiden quickly glanced my way, "hey Spencer." His tone was serious. He was definitely in gamer mode.
The button mashing commenced and I decided to go about my own business. I really don't know why Madison caved when Aiden begged to keep his Xbox here. He said he didn't want any of his roommates messing with his gamer stats or whatever.
I walked passed the commotion and into my bedroom, quietly shutting the door, though it was unnecessary. It sounded like a loud exchange of lasers and machine gun cavalry outside my door. I placed my purse down and fished through my closet for my old camcorder. Geez, I haven't used that thing since my filmmaker phase in high school. It's the only thing I've got that's still old enough to play DAT tapes, but new enough to hook up to the film editing program on my laptop.
Once I had everything hooked up, I rewound hours of normal footage taking place after the supposed incident happened. I saw footage of the cops arriving and the paramedics extracting the driver from the smashed car. Then, I saw a quick snippet of the drunk driver speeding out of control.
I leaned in closer as I rewound the tape to seconds prior to the car careening through the scene. I could see a clear shot of Ashley strolling down the sidewalk before…
"Hey, Spencer?"
"Hmm?!" I simultaneously jumped and shut my laptop. "Geez, Aid! You snuck up on me."
"Sorry," he smiled. "I knocked but I guess you were—" he pointed to my laptop before pointing to my head, "what happened to your head?" My eyes diverted to the upper corner as if that would help me see what he was talking about. "And what's with the Hello Kitty?"
"Oh, that?" I covered it with the palm of my hand. "Storage shelves fell down on me."
"Holy shit." His jaw dropped, "really?"
"But, no worries! I'm—"
"Is the inventory okay?" His shocked expression turned into concern. "You didn't spill any coffee beans did you?"
"I did. But thanks for your concern, asshole!" I teased him back and slapped him on the arm, knowing he was joking. "It was touch and go for a minute there, but I made it out alive."
"But you cleaned it up before Jenna got there, right?"
"Sadly, no. The wicked witch came to work early."
"Ugh." He leaned against the doorframe. I could still hear the music playing from his video game.
"She's got it in for me, I tell ya. I know she's scheming to get me fired. She was gonna tattle on me to Charles if I didn't have Donny to back me up."
"No doubt." He smirked. "Donny's your 'Get Out of Jail Free' card when it comes to Jenna." Aiden knows as well as I do that Jenna's got a thing for my dark-haired best friend. The only one oblivious to it is Donny. I mean seriously… how'd he land a girl like Sarah who played with his head before they were exclusive, if he can't even take a blatant hint from our supervisor that the only thing separating her from devouring him whole is sexual harassment?
"Yup. Story of my life." I sighed. "So, how'd your econ midterm go?"
"Not too bad." He thought for a second before nodding with reassurance. "I think I did pretty well."
"Yeah?" I raised a brow. "Well that's good. I'm glad you got a lot of studying done."
"It wasn't easy. I had to really concentrate to read the girl's handwriting next to me."
"Aiden!" I scolded. "You cheated? After all I did to get your stupid econ book last night…"
"I… read the material." "Kinda."
I gave him an incredulous look.
"Okay, I skimmed the chapters and looked at all the bold words."
I sighed in exasperation.
"I'll study next test." He put on his puppy dog eyes and innocent smile.
"Yeah, right. Save it." I sat back down. "That only works on girls who like boys. Much less, boys like you."
"What does that mean?" He crumpled his eyebrows and pouted.
"Nothing," I laughed.
"Say, Spence?" He held up a red baseball cap. "Do you know who this belongs to?" It had SDSU embroidered on it.
"Uh, err… uhm," I faked contemplation, "isn't that your hat?"
"Real slick." Aiden remained unconvinced. "When was he here?"
I hesitated.
"I may not be a mind reader, but I'm not that oblivious." He paused. "When?" He asked more sternly.
"…Saturday."
"Saturday when he stopped by to see you?" His mind was spinning and I knew exactly where this was heading. "He was here with Madison, wasn't he?!" Again, I said nothing. "I can't believe her." He tossed the hat on my bed before grabbing his stuff, turning off the television and leaving.
Glen, you freakin' idiot!
I honestly don't know how Glen and I are blood-related. If anything, Clay seems more of a brother to me than my half-wit biological brother.
I quickly ripped off my band-aid and let my bangs tassel over the thin cut before glancing at the clock near my bed, glowing 2:41 PM. I better leave now, since there could be traffic down Santa Monica Boulevard to Beverly Hills. Madison takes her lunch at 3. Maybe I should warn her about Hurricane Aiden.
The drive to the Beverly Center was a slower one than I had anticipated. I don't know why a light sprinkle of rain on a gloomy winter day causes everyone to go 10 MPH slower than the speed limit.
When I pulled in to the parking garage and made my way to the M.A.C store, I could see a line of people winding around the corner in front of Louis Vuitton to the left, and a second line forming to the right extending as far back as the Burberry store… and these were just the lines of people waiting to get inside. It was like the week before Christmas all over again!
Madison put the finishing touches on a young girl trying a look for her winter formal. I could see her working hard to sell cosmetics to the eager teen.
"The foundation looks amazing on you." Madison's eyes lit up, although I knew it was all a part of her sales scheme. "It blends well with your skin tone and really makes your skin glow!"
"You think so?" Said eager teen batted her eyelashes in the mirror, admiring herself and agreeing with the compliments that were spoon-fed to her.
"Oh, absolutely!" Madison looked up and noticed me pushing my way through the crowd. "Hey! I'll be off in a few minutes."
I nodded, waiting patiently as she continued to throw her sales pitch. I browsed the new products they had in the primer and lip gloss sections, trying not to get pushed around like a ragdoll. Ooooh! Dazzleglass Crème in Soft Dazzle!
"Luckily," she turned to the teen, "the foundation's part of our 'Buy 2, Get 1 Free' special going on this week. It's also SPF 15 and includes a hint of aloe."
"Do you think you can put it on hold for me and I'll come back for it in a few hours?"
"Oh," Madison sighed, "I don't know. We've got a lot of customers today. I'm not sure we'll still have some by the end of the day."
"Okay, okay," the naïve teen jumped out of her seat, "I'll take three!"
"Excellent!" Madison grabbed a few more products off the shelf and handed them to the cashier. "She'll take care of you over here." She directed the teen over to the counter.
The teenager smiled. She seemed hesitant, thinking about how angry her mother would be if she found out she spent her week's worth of allowance on make-up.
"Hey," I smiled as Madison headed back in my direction. She had a look of relief, eager to take a break from the busy morning she's had. We pushed our way out of the store. "Sorry I was a tad late. Beverly Boulevard was a nightmare."
"Don't worry about it. Any sooner and you'd probably have to wait the extra time." She sighed in exhaustion. "I was trying to sell that girl for the past hour or so."
"Well it worked 'cause she totally ate up everything you were saying to her, especially about the products running out." I laughed as I followed her onto the escalator down.
"It's true! We run out!"
"But you restock the next day."
"Yeah well," she turned towards me, "the customers don't have to know that." Madison smirked. "Besides… she took forever and was about to deny me a sale. All that time for nothing."
"Take it easy on the poor girl. She blew her allowance on your sales crap." I smirked as she rolled her eyes. We took the stairs down to the Grand Lux Café at the front entrance.
"I didn't force her into it." She attempted to reason with me, though we both knew she peer pressured the teen.
"Whatever you say, you devil's advocate against the cosmetically challenged."
"Just remember who's hooking you up at M.A.C." And with that, she got the last word.
We walked into the dimly lit, chic café with its marble tiles and granite countertops, fancy table designs, and elegant lighting. Hard to believe the food is as affordable as it is! We were seated immediately and placed our usual orders: a Sonoma Salad for Madison and a Grand Club Sandwich for me.
"So… spill it." I sipped my water.
"Spill what?" Madison questioned as she furrowed her eyebrows at her Blackberry. She scrolled her text messages, reading one in particular from Aiden. "What is Aiden whining about now?" Madison voiced her thoughts.
"What do you mean?" I was half concerned, half curious.
"He texted me 'you're unbelievable.'" She finally looked up, still seemingly confused.
"Maybe he meant it as a compliment."
"Pshhh… yeah right. Are we talking about the same Aiden?" She put her phone away. "We both know Aiden only gives compliments when he wants something." Ah… very true. "Anyways, what do you want me to spill?"
"Glen came over."
"And?"
"And… what the hell were you guys doing for six hours?"
She blushed. "N-nothing." "Na na na na, blah blah blah blah…"
"Stop thinking nonsense." My look of incredulousness turned into contorted expressions of disgust. "Eww, what did you guys do?"
"Nothing!" She diverted her eyes. "Just… made out."
"You did what?!" Oh… there go my bulging eyeballs again. "With Glen?! You cheat—"
"Okay," Madison gestured me to shut it, "I did not cheat on Aiden. Kissing is not cheating." She shrugged. "Besides… he made the moves on me."
"Kissing is cheating," I sneered at the absurdity of this argument we were having, "regardless of who was making the moves."
"It's only cheating if I'm hooking up with a guy I have deep-seated feelings for." She continued to reason with me. "And Aiden knows that about me."
"Yeah, but this was with Glen."
Did I mention Madison and Aiden have this twisted relationship? If kissing is not cheating, then Madison's only cheated on Aiden 1 and a half times (the half time being with a guy she met at our high school Grad Night at Disneyland; it was more than kissing, less than sex, and on the Haunted House ride. Get my drift?). But if kissing is cheating, and someone became employed for each time Madison's cheated, then the recession would be over… ten years ago.
And the story goes both ways. Aiden's number of mischievous make out sessions is equivalent to the Texas population. The two of them get pissed at each other for a bit, but take each other back because the reason is always the same: there were no romantic feelings felt while the perpetrator was committing the cheating crime. It was all superficial and platonic. So they say.
The one time Madison completely cheated on Aiden was on a senior trip we took with about thirty people to Rosarito. Aiden didn't go. His family took him to Europe as a graduation gift instead. Madison was horny. My idiotic brother happened to be within the vicinity. And the rest is one drunken cheatfest with nothing but tequila and sombreros. I happened to witness it in my own inebriation… I'm talking about the drunken debauchery that spurred them on, NOT the behind-closed-doors bit… eww!! On the bright side, it wasn't like Madison was adding notches to her belt; she was just having her own sloppy seconds. And I think that's what gets to Aiden: Glen and Madison have a romantic past. All the no-namers that Madison's made out with don't bother him as much as Glen. After that incident, he swore never to trust Madison alone with Glen ever again.
To this day, Madison denies having feelings for Glen. But I kinda know better. Her thoughts betray her sometimes.
The waiter brought out our meal and our conversation was momentarily lost as both of our mouths watered with hunger.
"Aiden will get over it. There's no spark between Glen and I." She shrugged as she sifted through her salad. "We were just… having fun."
"Yeah, but," I neatly folded my napkin into my lap, "would you get over it if he did the same thing with Sasha and told you there was no spark?"
She stopped to give me a hard glare.
Sasha's the ex who Aiden lost his virginity to back when he was an eager pubescent. Aiden tried to play it off as a typical hormonal jock, but the truth of the matter is that he fell for her… hard. Long story short, she broke his heart and his ego. He set on a conquest to sleep with as many girls as he could in high school (Madison included) to crown himself "the man" amongst his jock friends… when really it was a desperate attempt to get over Sasha and make her want him again. It worked and they started hooking up again. But by then, she fell for him and he only did it to prove to himself that he could sleep with her and not feel emotionally connected. We blame Sasha for making Aiden the way he is. Anyways, after Aiden found out Madison cheated on him with Glen, he immediately went for the anger bang with Sasha. Needless to say… shit hit the fan.
Once college happened, things settled. But I feel things are about to get rocky again.
"I'd kill him if he did." She paused. "Then, I would get over it."
"Yeah, okay. The point is… I'm right. Kissing is cheating." I think I make a valid point, especially coming from the victim's end of an affair. I munched on some fries as she quietly nibbled on her salad. "You're lucky she moved to Michigan."
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes at me. "How did Aiden find out anyway? Did you tell him?"
"You think I would instigate drama?" I furrowed my eyebrows. "Glen, the freakin' idiot that he is, left his SDSU hat in the living room."
"Dumbass."
I honestly don't know what she sees in him. I think I asked her once and she couldn't give me a straightforward answer. Her mind just flooded with all this mushy gushy crap my brother did for her in his sad attempt to be such a romantic when they dated in high school. I think she likes that he at least tries… compared to Aiden who's as callous as a rock most of the time.
Our luncheon progressed on to lighter topics, mainly us trading barbs on work and school. When the bill comes, I pick up the tab. Madison nearly scratches my arm off for it, but I tell her I got this one since she's hooking it up with the discounts anyway.
"Can you do me a favor and grab me some Dazzleglass Crème, too?" I asked kindly, signing off on the receipt.
"Sure. What tint?"
"In Soft Dazzle."
She contemplates for a split second before her eyes light up, "ooh, that would be such a good color on you!" Oh, my roommate, the cosmetologist. You know how some people are just super talented at visualizing everything, like Miss Cleo or kids who can picture the next 5 moves in a chess match? Madison's got serious talent in matching cosmetics to any skin tone and type, even before applying them. It's a wonder why she hasn't already taken over Paul Mitchell and renamed it after her.
Well, okay… not that big of a wonder. Attending Paul Mitchell is on her agenda, after she pleases her parents by getting her bachelor's. They don't even care what she majors in, even if it is sociology. All they want is for their daughter to finish her years as a Bruin so they can have something to brag about to friends and family.
"Thanks for lunch."
I handed the portfolio to our passing waiter. "It's the least I can do for—"
"No, I mean," she interrupted, "for hanging out with me. I feel like we haven't hung out in a while."
"I know. It's been busy with midterms and all. But we should do this more often." I smiled sincerely.
"Definitely." Madison glanced at her watch and I took that as our cue to get up. "You still have to update me on your date last night with that Liz girl. I'd really like to meet her sometime."
"You probably will." I nodded reassuringly as we walked out of the Grand Lux. A smirk spread across my face, and I'm not sure how that happened. It wasn't until I saw Madison eyeing me like a goober that I realized it. "What?"
"Must've been one hell of a date." She wiggled her eyebrows, wanting to inquire further but keeping time in mind.
"It was alright." I pursed my lips, failing ever-so-perfectly at hiding any form of a smile.
"Suuure," she retorted, unconvinced, before hugging me goodbye. "Catch you later. Thanks again!"
"No problem." I said with a small chuckle as I turned to walk down the sidewalk. Luckily, the rain had ceased and I didn't have to worry about finding an umbrella. But I wanted to get on my way since traffic was really starting to build up.
"God dammit, Ashley!"
A spiteful thought whisked by.
I stopped and suddenly turned to see where this was coming from. Coincidence? Nothing's coincidental about that strange girl. Something in the tone of that thought made it all too familiar. And somehow I knew it was about the same Ashley.
I looked from face to face, trying to find the source. It wasn't until I looked at the back of a blonde head, hastily rounding the corner, that my legs started to speak for themselves and quickly followed. I swear Donny's nosiness has rubbed off on me.
She was talking on the phone, her tone sounding so abrupt and frustrated. I inconspicuously followed her into Victoria's Secret, where we were both greeted separately. I nonchalantly looked at the panties on sale, keeping a close, but subtle distance from the blonde. She paced around the Pink pajamas section as I stole glances here and there, my ears perked and my mind listening.
"Ash, pick up the fucking phone!" She whispered, though I was in audible distance. And then I realized… she was the same blonde from The Pit who was throwing herself at Ashley last night. "You owe me an explanation! Call... me... the fuck… back!" She sighed in contempt before throwing the phone into her purse. For a second, I pondered on whether she knew what Ashley's deal was. Maybe she saw her get hit by the drunk driver, too?
No, she would probably be more concerned than angry. I couldn't pick complete sentences out of her thoughts. Just a lot of cuss words and something about a text from Ashley… and something about Portland. I'm not sure how long I had been standing there, frozen with a pair of red panties with white heart print propped in my hand. I must've been idle for a while, since one of the sales ladies felt it was best to approach me, thinking I had a question.
"Finding everything okay?" Her chipper voice interrupted my train of thought.
"Yes, thank you." I shot her a smile and dropped the red panties, pretending to sift through the pile.
"Okay, well," that deep shade of red lipstick perfectly framed those pearly whites, "my name is Shannon if you need anything." We nodded at each other before she turned and greeted another customer, her low ponytail swaying across the broadness of her back.
I turned my head to where blondie was, thinking I was sneaking glances, but we made eye contact and I immediately looked away. She thought nothing of it, of course, until our eyes met again. I reached for some Pink sweatpants behind me, pretending to decide whether or not I should purchase them. When I turned again, she was gone. I put the sweats back on the rack before walking further into the store, gazing around to see where she'd gone. She couldn't have left that quickly.
I shuffled my way around the mannequins sporting the new wonder bras and matching colored panties when I caught those grayish blue eyes staring me down. With nothing in hand, it really looked like I was stalking her.
"What?!" She thought as my eyes panned to the ground. "Hey!" She waved me down, but not in a friendly way.
"Hmm?" I played dumb.
"Can I help you?" I couldn't blame her for the rudeness. I'd hate it if I was being followed by a complete stranger with stalkerish tendencies.
"Nope," I quickly grabbed one of the wonder bras, "got what I need."
She thought of warding me off in some humiliatingly evil way, but stopped to rethink what my intentions might be. Then, she started to look at me with flattery… thinking I was some sort of admirer. Pfffft!
"You know what?" Blondie said in such a buttery manner that made her voice as soft as Paris Hilton's, I thought I was about to puke. "Sorry I snapped at you. I'm a bit on edge. My girlfriend dumped me via text with no explanation." She pouted. Shit, I would dump her, too, if I was Ashley. Not even sure what she saw in blondie in the first place. She wears way too much make-up, almost to the point of looking like a clown.
"Aww," I feigned sympathy, "I'm sorry to hear that." And then clever me thought of a clever plan… "I couldn't help but overhear you over there but—"
"Oh," she shook her head in interruption, "sorry you heard that."
"Were you talking about Ashley Davies, by any chance?" I continued, knowing she'd probably say yes. Her eyes glimmered with familiarity at the name before confusion crept in.
"Yeah, w-wait," she pointed at me, as I saw the wheels turning in her head, "you know Ashley? How do you know her?" Blondie squinted, shifting her weight and waiting eagerly for an explanation.
"She's my friend. Ash and I go way back." I crossed my arms and nodded. "We grew up together."
"So you're from Portland, too?"
"That I am." I smiled, trying not to look so… sheepish.
"She said she was moving back to Portland. She made no inclination if or when she'd come back." She stared off into the distance, starting to feel sad with the realization that she is officially single.
"Weird."
"Isn't it?"
"Well, that too, but it's weird she never mentioned you when we hung out." What? It's not like I'm lying. I felt a little guilty for adding to her agony, but I wanted answers. And I want them now! "How long have you guys been dating?"
"On and off for several months." She held her hand up to keep me from asking further. "It's complicated. You know Ashley… she's a whore." Clearly, the pot is calling the kettle black.
"That she is." I looked at her wide-eyed. This is not news to me.
"Well, I better get going. It was nice to meet you…"
"Spencer." I shook her hand, feeling a light scratch from her French manicure.
"Well, Spencer," she immediately started digging in her purse for something, "if you hear from Ashley," she pulled out an old receipt from some fast food restaurant and began scribbling something down, "tell her to call Yvette back." She handed the crumpled paper to me.
"Doesn't she already have your number?" I held onto the receipt without breaking eye contact.
"Or, you know, you can call me whenever, too." I could hear the flirtation in her voice.
Did that just happen?! Seriously. How is it that I totally blip on everyone's gaydar… when I'm supposedly the all-knowing mind-reader?
"Okay," I giggled, hoping I wouldn't burst into full laughter from the absurdity of the situation. Eww, how gross would that be if Ashley and I shared the same whore? Fortunately for me, I've got standards.
I walked out of the store towards the parking garage feeling… well… feeling a bunch of things. One, I felt dirty for Ashley's… whatever she is: girlfriend, whore, Yvette… for Yvette hitting on me. Two, I did not get the answers I was looking for… and it's not like I could've asked her to give me Ashley's number instead. And three, will there ever be some sense made as to what's on that surveillance tape?
When I finally got home after the traffic, I noticed our apartment was different. I froze in place, my eyes panning from side to side. I tried to visually map everything out in my head, but figured it out relatively quickly: Aiden's belongings were gone, Xbox included.
I tiptoed through the living room like a crime scene investigator, my eyes gazing down the hallway. Madison's bedroom door was wide open… and there was a massive hole in her now empty bulletin board above her desk. Whatever Aiden hit that thing with managed to put a hole through the wall as well. My eyes glanced downward and I noticed pictures of the two of them were torn and scattered on the floor of the hallway. On top of that, my bathroom door was missing its knob.
This is pretty bad.
Fighting, breaking up and getting back together is the normal process between these two. But destroying things? This is something I've never seen before.
I walked into my room and texted Madison about what I came home to.
So much has happened within the past 24 hours, I don't even know how to sort through it all. I sit at my desk and just let the stillness of my room wash over me. I'm feeling exhausted. The caffeine is wearing off.
Bzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz.
I lazily look at my phone… i told him. we broke up. told him 2 leave his key. did he?
I don't know, nor did I feel like moving right now. I just sat there, staring at my laptop, blinking slowly as I contemplated sleep.
Mmm sleep.
My body must've been on auto-pilot because without thinking, I'd opened and turned on my laptop. I stared at the screen as I rewound and played the surveillance tape.
Slow motion.
She steps off the sidewalk, her gaze quickly darting towards the direction of the speeding vehicle.
She turns to face it head-on… with arms wide open.
And on impact, she is hurled across the intersection.
I squint and think with whatever brain power I have left. Was this an attempted suicide?