James walked the tired and tortured downtown streets remembering how he saw it this morning: motionless and deserted. No club music, no college students stumbling from bars, no homeless soldiers battling the police for a place to set down. Now it was flooded with all of the above.
He pocketed his hands and felt the air from the Pacific making its way inland. You could expect it just as soon as the sun started to set. Soon he would need a jacket. For now, a place to eat would suffice. He walked by a posh Italian restaurant where its patrons were gobbling back mouthfuls of red wine to perfectly accompany their pasta dishes that cost more than last weeks groceries. Above the restaurant James noticed the window of an apartment. Not so much the window itself, more the two flags bearing the swastika that hung over the window like a pair of drapes. One was red with the white circle, black swastika, and one was beige with a red circle, white swastika. They rippled in the air like two whores in Amsterdam’s red light district.
James noticed that he was the only one on the street taking notice to the flags. He tried to see past them and into the room of the apartment. He wondered who lived there.
A couple out for a walk stopped where James stood.
“What are you doing?” the woman asked. She sounded genuinely puzzled, and James didn’t like the sound of her voice, so he ignored her. The couple looked up to see what he was watching and the woman flatly said, “Oh.” James then turned his attention to the couple, looked at them, said nothing, and continued walking.
The breeze picked up and James walked faster. His shoulders came up high to block his ears. He walked past a bookstore; then a cycle shop; then a trendy overpriced clothing chain. People on all sides moved fluidly and unaffected. What is happening here, he thought. What is out there tonight? Each storefront looked the same, and all of it had nothing to offer. The breeze kept on. He needed to find something to keep warm.
When he saw the coffee bar he ducked inside. It was fashioned with motifs from Africa, Europe, Alaska. Photographs of generic landscapes peppered the walls. Artwork imitating the drawings from our days as cave dwellers danced on the cups, on the signage, on anything for sale. Few people were seated. They drank espresso (calling it “Expressos”) and ate day-old pastries.
James walked to the counter and rubbed his hands together. The girl fixing drinks approached.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Large coffee,” James said, blowing into his fist. He didn’t notice the way she was looking at him.
The girl spun around and reached for a 20 oz. paper cup. She placed it under the spout and looked back at James: “Room for cream?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
The girl returned with the coffee and punched a few buttons on the screen of the register. She looked at James and smiled.
“That will be one seventy-five please.”
There was something in the way she said it, and she didn’t look away like all the rest of the world when James stood at the opposite.
James picked through the change in his pocket, came out ten cents short.
“Sorry,” he shrugged.
“That’s okay,” she said. His embarrassment intrigued her. There’s just something about being humble that reminds others we’re all human. James watched her reach into the tip jar set at the edge of the counter and pull out a dime. She mixed it in with James’ money and winked, “Don’t tell anybody.”
James returned the smile and said, “Well actually–now that you mention it—-is there a manager I can talk to? Because, if my eyes don’t deceive me, you just committed a serious crime against your fellow, hard-working American! This is a travesty!” and slammed his fist into the counter.
The girl gasped, “What?” and picked up the tip jar, studied it, set it down. Her face was flushed red. “You’re weird,” she exclaimed.
“Yeah,” he said. So what anyway, he thought. It’s not that I have much to lose. I don’t even know this girl. She looked at him approvingly and said, “You aren’t like a lot of people.”
He looked around the place. Definitely not like these people, he thought. “Yeah,” he said, “I get that a lot.”
She laughed. Sarcasm–she gets it.
“What time does this place close?” he asked.
Her eyes focus down on him. “Around nine.”
He looked at the clock and it read a quarter till. She wiped her hair out of her face, punched the total amount and the register popped open. She dropped the money in and closed it. She passed the coffee across the counter and James said thank you. When he was at the condiment counter pouring the half and half the girl approached with a wash towel in her hand. As she began wiping the counter down she turned to James.
“I’ll be off in twenty minutes.”
James looked at her smiling at him. It was only then that he knew: She was trouble.
Pretty typical, he thought. Somehow the trouble always manages to find him. It manifests in all forms and comes at him from everywhere: landlords, co-workers, debt collectors, self-help guru’s, pretty smiles, large puddles, fleeting internet connections, unreliable footwear–they all stand at his side wagging their tail, waiting for James like he had the answers, or at least something that they missed, needed, wanted, sufficed.
James saw the Devil smiling at him. And in his self-indulgent, accommodating fashion, like always, he smiled back and said, “Alright.”
He stood outside with his coffee watching the door. Sure enough, shortly after nine, it opened, and out she came, wearing a jacket that swallowed her figure. She marched up to James and pulled a cigarette from her purse.
“Hi,” she said. “My name’s Nicole.”
James stood there, watching her. “I’m James,” he said.
She suddenly wrapped an arm around his neck and put her mouth to his. James let his eyes close. Her lips were soft and wet, and he let the kiss take its time before pulling away. He suddenly felt as if he had been with her his whole life. She was trouble all right. Well, fuck it, he thought. The night has just set upon me.
Nicole stepped back, put the cigarette to her mouth, and lit it. She blew out a stream of smoke and sidled up to James.
“C’mon,” she said. “It’s cold.”
She wrapped her arm around James’ arm and they walked for two blocks, turned left and went another two blocks. Nicole stopped him in front of a green 80’s model Volkswagen Jetta parked on the street and unlocked the passenger side door. James got in. The driver’s side door opened and Nicole moved inside. She turned the key and the car started immediately.
The Jetta pulled onto the street. Nicole turned the heater to full-blast. The sound reminded James of a crappy old vacuum cleaner. After the temperature warmed up James put his hands to the vents and let the heat bring the feeling back to his fingers.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
She kept that smile going. “Where would you like to go?” she asked.
James looked out the window and couldn’t tell exactly where they were or had been driving. “Listen, let’s go get a drink somewhere.”
“I have a better idea,” she said. “Let’s go to my house.”
“Your house?”
Just like that? he thought. Who the hell was this girl?
“Yeah,” she said. “My roommates are home; we always have a good time.”
“Is there anything to drink?”
“There’s always plenty going on.”
What’s that even mean? He sat there thinking about it, decided not to be too eager or inquisitive. Sometimes you just have to sit back and let things unfold.
They drove on. Every few minutes she would turn her head to look at him. James felt like the world was watching him. He sat back in his seat.
“You have an extra cigarette?” he asked.
She pulled out two, lit them both, and passed one to him. The first drag made him cough. He hadn’t smoked in over ten years. The second drag didn’t burn as much. He cracked his window and the cool Pacific air sucked at the smoke, pulling it out in a rush.
The Jetta took several turns and the trees outside the car began swallowing the houses. They were in a residential area that James couldn’t place. He finished the cigarette and threw the remainder out the window. He smelled his fingers.
The car pulled over in front of a large house that sat behind a fence and a huge front yard. The yard was engulfed in more of those hungry trees. The engine cut and when the headlights went out James couldn’t see much of anything. Nicole turned to him and said, “Ready?” James nodded. She opened her door and James felt for the handle to his. When he found it he climbed out and she met him as he closed the door. Again she embraced him as if they were long time lovers, bringing their mouths together with a passion James had never imagined.
When she pulled away she took James by the hand and led him through a chain-linked gate that opened up to the front yard with a long path that led to a front porch. Where the fuck are we? He tried not to panic. What have I gotten myself into? James saw the lights inside the house and as they approached he could hear the sound of people talking and laughing.
They reached the front door and she pushed it open. James didn’t remember hearing her turn the doorknob. They entered and Nicole said, “Hey, guys!” Then the sound from the main living room changed from a group engaged in conversation to an open forum.
“Hey Nicole!” the voices shouted.
“She’s home!”
“There she is!”
James braced himself for anything, and as they rounded the corner he saw four people–two male, two female–sitting around a small coffee table in the middle of the living room with a deck of cards scattered across the tabletop. The four of them erupted with smiling greeting faces as Nicole dropped her purse at the foot of the couch.
#
He suddenly thought of the Nazi flags. Here he was, smuggled under the nose of authority, and outside there was nothing but uncertainty. What am I doing? he asked himself. He could hear them through the walls, their nice voices, the conversation shifting from one boring topic to another. It’s all a test, he thought, to see if she’ll crack! How much pressure can she take? Will she reveal my whereabouts? Just one slip and the guns will be knocking through the sheetrock and it’s all over. Busted. Kaput. Shipped away. Filed. What the hell am I doing?
He traced his steps, from downtown to the coffeehouse, to meeting Nicole, to the drive–how long have I been here? he thought. He paced the floor. How did I let it go from that to this? How is it that I am trapped inside this bathroom? People and their games! He looked at his reflection. The voices were changing from present to past, as he heard his own voice saying, “Hi, I’m James.”
“I’m Carl,” the first one said, “this is Yvonne . . .”
“Nice to meet you,” Yvonne said.
He shook their hands.
“And this is Max, and his wife Katie.”
“James.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You guys are just in time,” said Max. “We were just talking about Nicole’s favorite subject . . .”
“Oh, shut up already,” said Nicole. James watched the group laugh. Nicole wandered off somewhere down the hallway. “What’s the subject?” James inquired. They all continued to laugh and then Max said, “It always sets her off . . . Beer?”
“Yeah,” James said.
He passed James a beer from an open 12-pack. James cracked it and got half of it down in one gulp.
“The originals are better!” Nicole said from a distance. “All the re-issues do is take away the feeling of authenticity of their time. It’s too plastic sounding.”
“Aww, c’mon,” said Max. “You gotta admit that the re-issues are far superior in quality.” He winked at James. “McCartney even said if they had that kind of technology back then they would have used it.”
“Well, they didn’t,” said Nicole, “And I’m tired of talking about it.”
Max looked at James and shook his head. “Denial.”
James finished the beer and asked for another. Max obliged, saying, “Looks like we got out ourselves a drinker.” James smiled and cracked the second beer.
“Nicole, did you bring the coffee?” Carl asked.
Nicole walked back into the living room and lit a cigarette. “It’s in the bathroom. Whose turn was it?” “I’ll go,” said Yvonne. James watched as Yvonne disappeared down the hallway, and then he heard the sound of a door closing and locking.
“James,” Max said, “Do you listen to the classics?”
“Jesus, just shut up about it,” Nicole said. Max was in hysterics. “I just thought maybe we could get an outsiders opinion on the topic.”
James shrugged and said, “Yeah, music’s alright, I guess.”
Max laughed and Nicole flustered.
“Well, if music’s alright, you guess, what do you think Nicole? You think he’s into the way it was, or the way of the future?”
His voice was thick with snide sarcasm.
“Just drop the stupid subject already,” Nicole said.
“They sound better with headphones,” Katie said.
“What?” Max said, “The originals?”
“The re-issued albums,” Katie said. She looked at James. “I love listening to them while I’m at the gym. I just put on my headphones and work out.”
“Yeah,” said Carl. “I have to admit, I bought a few of the re-issues. It so much more clean-sounding.”
“Did all you guys like the newer versions of Star Wars too?” Nicole scoffed. “Fucking babies.”
“I don’t think we are the babies,” said Max. They all were laughing. James didn’t know what to make of it.
The door to the bathroom unlocked and Yvonne came out. She sat back down next to Carl, rubbing her nose and sniffing. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nostrils were bright red. Next person around the table was Max. “Did you do me a solid?” he asked Yvonne. “It’s enough for you to keep yapping,” she said. “I could hear you the whole time in there.” Max rubbed his hands together and hopped to his feet. “Alright,” he said, “Let’s see what’s on the menu.” He vanished down the hallway before James heard the sound of the door locking.
When Max returned, he was sniffing and rolling his eyes. “Not bad,” he said to Yvonne. Katie looked at Max and Max smiled at her. She leaned over and kissed him, got up and went into the bathroom. When she returned, she was sniffing the same, doing the same. She looked at James.
“Your turn,” Max said. “My turn for what?” he asked. “Come on,” Nicole said, “I’ll show you.” She walked James into the bathroom amidst the “Oohhss” and “Aahhhss” emitting from the living room. “Don’t take too long in there you two,” said Max. “Yeah, it’s my turn next,” said Carl.
Nicole led James into the bathroom and locked the door. A book-sized mirror sat on the counter. Drawn on it was a white line of powder. Next to it, a small mound of the stuff accompanied by a clean razor blade.
Nicole pushed her mouth into his, and began sucking at his tongue. James kissed back, and he could feel his hands wrap around Nicole’s hips. He squeezed. She moaned and pulled her head back.
“Now, let me show you how we do this.”
She handed him a small straw. “One person lines up the next. When you are finished, you set up a line for Carl. We go around the table until it’s all out.”
James looked at the stuff. “Why in the bathroom?” he asked. Nicole smiled and kissed him again. She positioned herself so her back was to the counter, pulling James close. She looked into his eyes as she sunk to her knees. James watched her unbuckle his belt. She didn’t waste any time with pulling him out and going to work.
He looked in the mirror and watched her head bobbing, then circling, then bobbing some more. He closed his eyes. Nicole was a pro. He didn’t ask. He didn’t care. In a few short minutes he could feel it approaching. So could she.
“Not yet,” she said.
He looked down at her.
“What?”
“Control your breathing,” she said. “Let it consume you.”
She went back to work. He could feel his heart rate rising. His stomach started involuntarily tightening. He took a deep breath, then let it out slow, concentrating on the moment. His cheeks were flush. He took another deep breath and looked at the mirror again. He wished he had a camera. She moved slow and steady, always knowing when to pace it. She got him close to the edge, then backed off. She looked up and smiled.
“When you get there this time,” she said, “I’m going all the way. That’s when you do it.”
Do what? he thought.
“Do what?”
She hinted towards the powder. “When you feel it come, that’s when you do it.” He looked at it, back at her, and nodded. “Okay,” he said. He held the straw between his fingers. His heart burned with anticipation.
She went back to it. She was more intense, more intent. He felt the energy inside him rising. With each stroke, with each suck, he could feel the finish line approaching. He could taste it. He was close. She didn’t stop. The point of no return, here it comes. He arched his head back. She quickly stopped and patted him on the leg. He abruptly looked down and saw her staring up at him. Her eyes motioned for the counter. He took the straw and made for the white line as she picked up speed. Then it came. He inhaled deeply. She swallowed.
Nicole stood up and scooped a little of the powder in her finger nail and popped each nostril. She turned on the faucet and drank some water. James stood there electrified by it all. “Clean it up and put it away,” she said. “Then don’t forget to set one up for Carl.”
James sniffed a few times to clear his sinuses. It ran down the back of his throat. It tasted awful. He pulled some toilet paper and wiped off. He zipped up and washed his hands and took a deep breath. He looked at the pile on the counter. He did his best at cutting a line with the razor blade. Nicole winked at him before unlocking the door.
When Carl sat back down he exclaimed, “Good shit! I’m glad you’re before me!” to James. Everyone laughed. James could feel his jaw tensing and all he could think about was going back into the bathroom.
#
Sweat ran down his forehead. He realized he had been chewing his nails. He stopped. He looked at the counter. The white powder was still nicely displayed across the glass. He paced some more. He noticed the window. It ran along the top of the wall behind the shower–the kind of window that is used to ventilate. The frame was chalked with mildew and the latch was fastened tight with paint and rust.
He studied the window.
It could fit a body.
They were three rounds in when there was an estranged knock at the door. Nicole jumped up to look through the peephole. “Shit!” she said in a loud whisper. Everyone looked up to see her hurry over to the living room. James heard the words, “It’s my parents!” in slow motion.
Parents? What time is it? he thought. Immediately the group dispersed. Carl and Yvonne went into the kitchen. Max turned on the TV and Katie snatched a book from the shelf. “What’s going on?” James asked. “Come on,” Nicole said. She ushered him into the bathroom and said, “Just wait here. Lock the door when I leave. I’m not supposed to have guests over, not since the accident.”
James looked at her–“Accident?”
The door slammed shut. James locked the door. He heard the front door open followed by over-exaggerated greetings.
Would I ever run into her again? he thought. Will she remember my face? Of course she will. She’s fucking insane–her and her friends.
#
“Thanks for coming by,” Nicole said. She shut the door behind her parents and put her back to it. “I thought they’d never leave.” Everybody came back into the living room as she walked down the hallway to the bathroom.
She knocked and called for James, but there was no answer. She tried to open the door, but it was locked.
“James? Are you in there?” She knocked again. Carl and Max made their way to the door. Max stepped forward and knocked. “He not answering? James! You alright in there?”
“I don’t know what he’s doing,” said Nicole.
“He better hurry up in there,” said Carl, “It’s my turn!”
“James!”
They grew more and more suspicious and eventually Carl said, “Fuck it” and began kicking at the door. The door gave after four kicks. They all stepped inside expecting to find James, but all they found was an empty counter and broken glass.
Author: Lawrence Goodwin
