Authors: Andy Mandela
I make my way back to my car on the other side of the apartment building. I drove a black dodge challenger with two gold racing stripes, courtesy of my day job. Better yet, the car is completely paid off. I paid for it all in cash. The look on the salesman’s face was picture worthy when I told him that I wasn’t a fan of making payments.
When I reach my car, I take another look over both of my shoulders. Everything is good. There is no one around. I quickly toss the kilo in the trunk and close it. I get in my car, then drive off, my heart beating no faster than normal. Bruce’s bar was on the other side of town. That’s just like him to be making me do something like this for him. But I have to remember th
at this is a drive worth twenty grand, so I think I can manage to forgive him.
On the way there, I come to a red light. Who do you think pulls up right behind me as I’m stopped here? A cop. A fucking cop. How fucking coincidental. There’s no need for me to get nervous. He doesn’t care who I am. This is what I keep repeating to myself to keep myself cool. The green light comes on. I make a right turn, while the cop goes straight. See, nothing to worry about.
I make it to Red in about twenty minutes. I pull into a parking space right outside the front door. I pull out my phone to text Bruce that I’ve arrived. Once I send the message, I delete it from my phone. Bruce himself comes out the front door with a smirk on his face and a satchel in his hand. One of his goons follows behind him holding another identical satchel. Bruce walks up to my passenger’s side window. I lower the window as he waits and as I stare at the satchel.
“In the trunk,” I say, pulling the lever to open it. Bruce nods to his associate to retrieve the kilo. Bruce places the satchel he’s holding into my passenger’s seat.
“Always a pleasure,” he says with his smoky voice. Bruce sounds like he’s been smoking since he was in utero.
“Likewise,” I respond. The other guy closed the trunk. He put the kilo in the second satchel. Both men made their way back into the club. I open up the satchel I was given to see
nothing but numerous Benjamin Franklins staring at me. I smile, close the satchel, and head back home, twenty thousand dollars richer.
Chapter 3
The sun was already beginning to set by the time I got to my apartment. The sky was purple, orange, red, and yellow. The past twenty-four hours have been nothing but kind to me. I’m even thinking about going to Brandon’s party, but I’m not completely sure yet. I feel almost as if there’s some kind of force deterring me from going. It’s not the money, the coke, or the girls. No…it’s something else. A feeling. I can’t describe it. I’ll probably end up going anyway. It’s about time I stop second guessing myself. Personally, it’s starting to make me sick.
I reach my door, placing
my hand on the doorknob. Somehow, I feel tempted to look down the hall once again. I didn’t expect to see anyone, but I noticed the figure of a woman about to walk down the stairs. By the time I did a double take, more than half of her body was already gone.
I pause for a moment. Is it her? Should I go after her? Yes. I quickly scramble to open my door to throw the satchel inside. After locking the door back up, I casually jog to the other end of the hallway. I go down the stairwell all the way to the first floor.
I look around the lobby, but see no one. I go outside. No one. I look in all directions, but there is nothing out here, not even a car driving by. Am I going crazy, or am I just too slow. My heart is racing, but at least it wasn’t my mind this time.
I sorrowfully walk back upstairs, feeling like I need a rest. I turn on the lamp in my room. I’m sitting in the same spot where Bibi was sitting when she gave me that farewell kiss. In the top drawer of my nightstand, there was a private stash I kept for myself, not for sale. I pulled out
a small black case and unzipped it, opening it like a book. The contents inside was the needle. In this moment, I am tired, my eyes only half open. I just let my body take control now. I had my own small amount of indigo. I heat it with water in a bent spoon, just like you would see in the movies. At this point, I am no longer sitting on my bed. I’m sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, with my back to the bed. I shoot the indigo, keeping my eyes closed, taking deep breaths. I can barely open my eyes, but when I do, all I’m able to do is stare blankly into space. With minutes, my arms and legs all feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. I’m entirely unable to move, but that’s okay. I feel like I’m ready to rule the universe from the comfort of my bedroom floor. I begin alternating between an alert state to a drowsy state of consciousness. Nothing can trouble me.
The sun has set now. Past my window, I only see black. Then… I doze off. Here we can cut to the time when I wake back up, because I can’t remember anything in between. It’s still dark out, meaning it can be anywhere from six in the evening to six in the morning. It doesn’t matter to me either way. Without moving my head or body, my eyes find the clock. 9:43 p
.m. I can still feel the effects of the indigo lingering in my body. I feel lost, but safe. I’m lying with my whole body on the ground. At some point I’m unable to recall, I must have tilted and fell to the ground. The left side of my face now rests comfortably on the carpet. I roll over, now lying on my back, facing the ceiling in a Vitruvian Man pose.
I lie for I don’t know how long until… my phone rings.
The phone is in my pocket. With my eyes still fixated on the ceiling, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer it anyway.
“Yeah?” Nothing. I hear no response, but I can tell someone is on the other end. I can tell. Then… whoever was on the other end hangs up. I offered one last “hello” before the line
went dead. Upon hanging up, I sit up and decide to go to Brandon’s party. I don’t even bother to change clothes. I’ve got on a pocket t-shirt, the same one I’ve been wearing all day. Also, I have on some stonewashed jeans. I slowly rise from the floor, completely in silence, only able to hear the sound of my slow breathing. I had thrown my hoodie on my bed, so I lift it, put it on, and stumble to the door.
Once outside, I start wondering how I got there. I can barely remember riding the elevator down.
Funny. Now I see the streetlight staring at me as I once again walk to my car. I feel like time is simultaneously speeding up and slowing down. It’s a weird feeling, but a good one nonetheless. By the time I reach my car, I have this underlying feeling that the sun could rise any minute.
Then I’m off, to a party that I still strangely feel I shouldn’t be going to. Funny how my night hasn’t even begun yet… I hope. Brandon lives in the suburbs, which is almost a fifteen minute drive from where I live. As I’m driving, the high begins to wear off. It feels like a plane nose di
ving straight to Earth. It’s fine, because once I get to Brandon’s party, the plane will take off once again. I just hope the party isn’t some kind of formal affair, with women in cocktail dresses and men in tuxedos. I’ll look like a black sheep running around.
When I’m about halfway there, I can tell the indigo has pretty much left the building. My phone is ringing again in the pocket of my hoodie. I kept it there so wouldn’t have to fidget in my jeans for it. I pull it out, and the first thing I notice is that it’s the same num
ber that was calling me earlier when I was glued to the floor of my bedroom. At first, I didn’t want to answer, thinking that whoever it could have been was trying to mess with me again. I don’t like wasting my time with stupid crap like that. Yet, somehow, I feel compelled to find out who it is.
“Hello?” I answer for the second time. About two seconds pass by before I hear a voice, a female voice say, “Hi. Is this Luke?” I didn’t even recognize the voice, but somehow she knew me. “Who is this?” I asked, trying to be polite. However, I feel people should identify themselves before asking other people who they are.
“Hello, my name’s Hannah. Um… Brandon Harris gave me your number. He said he thought I might like you and told me to give you a call, so… you know… we could… hang out, or do something.”
“Uh…,” I respond. I’m not sure what to say. But before I get to say or even think of what to say, she continues, “I tried calling earlier, but… I didn’t hear anything. I must have said hello about five times, but you didn’t
answer. I thought I would try again, so here I am… calling you.” I didn’t answer? What does she mean I didn’t answer? Immediately, another thought ran through my mind. What if Hannah is the girl I’ve been looking for?
“Are you at Brandon’s party night now?” I ask.
“No. I’m at home. It’s just, I felt like I needed someone to talk to, and it must seem strange that I called a total stranger, but… you know… maybe we could get together and… maybe have lunch or something. That is if you’re interested.”
I could tell Hannah had more on her mind than the old quick fix, so maybe she
could really be the one I’ve been looking for. I don’t know. I pull into an empty gas station parking lot to gather my thoughts, not wanting to be distracted while driving.
“Sure,” I say, “That sounds nice. What are doing in the morning for breakfast?” I didn’t want to be too forward and invite her over to my place just to fuck things up for myself right as I may have found the one.
“Nothing,” she answers.
“How about we meet at the diner on Polk Street at nine,” I suggest.
“Ok.” Her voice now sounded cheery. I’m glad I was able to lift her spirit.
“Great,” I said, “see you then. We both hang up. Now I don’t feel up to going to any party anywhere.
I pull out of the parking lot and head back home. Tomorrow morning, I may have a real chance at a real relationship. The entire way back, I wonder if I’ll like her, if I can actually have someone to trust again… love. She sounded a lot like me, someone who was lonely and just looking for someone to at least spend time with. I think I’ll like her, though.
When I get back, I go inside, I tear off a piece of paper from a page in a spiral I used for one of my classes. I wrote down Hannah’s number and her name under it. Funny, I was beginning to get tired again, so I take off my hoodie, shirt, and so forth until I’m only in my boxer-briefs. I walk to my bed, fall face first into the pillow, then fall asleep. Falling asleep tonight was easy as well.
The next morning, I wake up a little after eight. It doesn’t take me long to get ready, so I decide to snooze just a little bit longer. I’m anxious about breakfast today. Will she like me?
Enough. Just quit thinking and just do. About fifteen minutes later, I finally get out of bed and get dressed. I comb my hair and do other things I don’t normally do first thing in the morning. It’s a quarter until nine when I leave the door, and nine o’ clock on the dot when I actually pull into the diner. There are a few cars here, no telling if Hannah has even arrived yet. I don’t want to call or text her, since that would just make me look way too desperate. Instead, I go inside. I’ll wait for her if she’s not here, or join her if she is. But I have no idea what she looks like. I walk in and look around. I don’t see any girls sitting alone, just other people sitting,
minding their own business, and enjoying their breakfast in peace. So I find an empty booth and sit down. Within seconds, a waitress comes over.
“How are you today?” she asks as fake as possible.
“Good,” I reply.
“Just one?”
“No, actually, I am meeting someone. But I’ll have an orange juice while I wait.”
“Sure thing,” she says, then takes off. I wait a couple minutes while drinking
my orange juice. The glass is half empty and I’m wondering if Hannah is even going to show up at all. I check my phone several times to see if she had sent me a message. None. No messages and no missed calls. You know, I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t show up. I knew that it sounded too good to be true. I think I’ll just finish my orange juice and leave.
Right as I reach for my glass for a final time, I hear a voice
behind me softly say, “Luke?” My heart sank and I don’t know why. I turn my head to see a lovely woman standing on the outside of the booth. She had light brunette hair and piercing light brown eyes, complimented by a tiny bit of eye makeup that made her look mysteriously seductive. But she appeared as though she wasn’t even aware of her own beauty. She had her hair in a low messy bun. With a long lock of hair right in the peripherals of her eye. I stand up to greet her, unsure of whether I should hug her, give her a handshake, or foolishly wave. Alternatively, I direct my hand towards the empty seat across from mine.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” she returns.
“Hannah… it’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” We both take a seat in the booth, then spend the next few minutes awkwardly skimming through our menus. I put my menu away and attempt to say something.
“I feel like… we’ve got a few things in common It’s only a feeling, seeing how I don’t know you at all, but it’s just one of those instincts that you know has to be true.
” She stares at me with those brown eyes of hers, almost making me forget what I just said.