It wasn't even 8:00 that austere Saturday morning as I perched on the corner of my too thick black and white speckled bed spread. Long fingers ran through dirty, matted hair. My pillow was soaked through and through. Even my ears were drenched in sweat.
Well rested or wild and restless. It didn't matter which. Thoughts speed through crowded minds like out of control subway cars. The danger is real. Get off the track.
I rested my right hand against a cardboard box, my makeshift end table. Sony Xperia. It's side was dotted with tiny pictures all lined up in a row. Girls I had once dated. I'm vain so I count my chickens again and again. Each one was pinned with a different colored thumb tack.
Source: Pixabay.com
I'm a romantic. Or maybe there's something wrong with me. I don't like to feel alone.
The phone jars me from my mental regurgitations. I never liked that phone. Too heavy and bulky. I pick it up by flipping it on it's side then brushing my finger over the green glowing buttons.
"Yeah."
Who's calling me at this hour?
"I thought about what you said."
A somber voice, somewhat familiar.
"I might be willing to give it a try, if you're still up for it."
I raise my left eyebrow in contemplation. Girls make the world go round.
"Okay, yeah let's do it. Just give me a time and a place."
Do I sound confident? I wish I had a cup of coffee.
"Pick me up tonight at 10:00, park behind the silver pickup." she sighs as if the act of talking itself is a chore.
"It's Jenny."
Jenny.
I was introduced to her last month by an old high school friend. We were jerks back then, he and I. We sat in the back of Miss Anderson's history class playing a makeshift football game that we probably didn't invent. You folded a piece of paper into a little triangle, then flicked it with your finger through the waiting "goal posts". Sometimes they were another person's fingers, other time's the back of some ass wipe's head.
"If there's anyone who can cheer her up, it's you Mark. She's so pretty yet she wears a terrible frown everywhere she goes."
I'd invited her out but she had ignored me completely. You can't always hit the bullseye. I would be picking her up tonight, so something must have stuck.
Jenny, who never stole a happy hour.
I will fix you.
I'd only been 18 for a couple of months and my car was my greatest asset, aside from my looks. A gold colored Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. She sported a 5 liter V8 with twin throttle fuel injection. She looked like a beauty and sounded like a beast. That car never hurt my chances.
Jenny lived in a rough part of town. I told myself it would be okay as I started my baby and turned the knob for the flip up headlights. It didn't take long to get there. Music, cigarettes, I was already four beers in. Pre game, baby.
She was dressed all in black, even down to the lipstick . Her apartment was cold and dreary. Living alone at my age was impressive. I hadn't realized how hot she was. I think she was Korean or Vietnamese, but it felt rude to ask. Long straight black hair hung down below her buttocks. Her face was as pale as a porcelain ghost.
She led me into her bedroom and we sat down together on plain dark sheets. Several minutes passed without either of us speaking. Why was I here?
I noticed from the corner of my eye that the closet door was open, revealing the true nature of her wardrobe.
Every single item of clothing was black. Every single one.
My hand was shaking slightly as I placed it on her bare thigh, right above her perfect black stockings. She quickly scooted back, not making eye contact.
What was with this girl?
This dank apartment isn't where I want to be. I want to have some fun and I can tell that she needs to loosen up.
"What do you say we go for a drive. I know a nice place where we can relax."
She looks like she's about to say that her place is relaxing enough, but thinks better of it, knowing it to be a lie.
"Okay. Let's go." big black eyes that never waver.
No smile.
Never a smile.
Part two is coming shortly.
