Skip to main content

No one told me about her


No one told me about her
Chapter 1

Sarah’s living room, March 2003.

            Sarah bent over the glass table in her living room and did a line of speed.  Seth was doing a line of coke off of a CD and Elijah was balancing between both their drugs. 
“I need to tell you guys something so I don’t do it.”  She said.  She wished she hadn’t gained their attention but she couldn’t help but confess.  If they told her it was a bad idea, she wouldn’t do it in May when Diablo’s family went down to Mexico for the family picnic.  If she told them, rumors could start and there was no way she’d have the nerve to do it. 
“Ever since Diablo beat the shit out of me, I’ve been thinking of getting him back.  The only thing he cares about is his money.”  She said.
Seth set down the CD case on her table, followed slowly by the straw.  Elijah sat up on the sofa. 
Calmly and seriously Seth told her, “That is the most fucked up thing I have ever heard you say.” He stared at her with cocaine-bright intensity and she started to wonder if perhaps the drugs were leading them down that road right before the U-TURN sign you always inevitably miss.  “Man, I gotta thank you Sarah.  If you’d do that to Diablo, then, I guess all I have to do is piss off some bitch to get ripped off. Man, thanks.  I needed to know that, just when you think you might be able to trust someone – you realize once again, you can’t trust anyone in this business.  Even your own girlfriend will fuck you up. You hear what she said Elijah?”  He shook his head smiling, clearly upset.  “How much money do you make in a year Sarah?”
“I don’t know, sixty or seventy thousand.”  She was a secretary at energy investment company.
            “Okay, well that ain’t shit. Let me put this to you better.”  He paused to explain.  She was offended that he’d scoffed at her yearly wages.  “Okay, I make a lot of money and I don’t know what Diablo makes but if some bitch took my money after I trusted her, I’d want to slit her throat.  I don’t care if it was $1,000 or $50,000, that’s my money and whether you like the way I earned it or not, it ain’t fucking yours.  Do you get what I’m saying?  I didn’t run around town risking my life for you to fucking take it.  I don’t like Diablo anymore than anyone else.  You want me to kill him, fine.  I’ll kill him.  But you didn’t leave him, get that too?  You can’t talk shit and act like you’re not in love with him because Sarah, you’re with him.”  Seth looked toward Elijah who was merely listening to the speech.  “Did you hear what that bitch said?  Man, am I tripping?  I mean, of all people, can you believe she said that?”  Seth shook his head while the smile remained.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Sit in a Circle Everyone - Group Therapy & Me

  Background Report:   You know what you did to me, you knew in advance the consequences and the repercussions of your behavior, there was no 60-Minute televised devastating surprise presented to you in an effort to acknowledge the damage you were causing - it was well known and you didn’t care.   So, when we are all wondering how did I get here, we know.   I know you know, you-know I-know, and you know that I had the same lack of control or will power that would have made me the stronger person we wished I was were that it was true - again, this is the best version of me to date.   Imagine that, like an IBM computer, a classic Camaro, I’ve got industrial Steele designs and sleek features but can’t turn a corner to without fishtailing and unless you like staring at black and green screen - I’m out dated, I can’t be younger, I can’t be better, I am the leader that made the rest of you even smarter and faster - and one day, maybe, kids you can out form your master...
Post a Comment
Read more

Seymour the Fighter Fish

The betta fish has been flotsam for about a week now, maybe longer. I don’t know why I keep putting fish food in the goldfish bowl, but I do. It sinks to the bottom in rainbow colors till like all promises of nurture, disappears into the tiny rocks, pebbles, stepping stones of our aquarium filled lives. I rationalize that my fish was just another small import from Asia to fascinate the cubicle dwellers in envious color, a fad, a pet rock like fad. Just another way for us to house cockfights at our desk and think of it as humane, not a big deal, after all they’re just Siamese fighting fish. If I’d had two pit bulls I’m pretty sure I would’ve gotten fired sooner. Maybe I should have had two pit bulls, they’re expected to fight, kill kill kill. What’s the difference? I shouldn’t have exposed my gambling problem. I have an urge to dramatically pick up the goldfish bowl that houses the dead bloated body of Seymour the Siamese Fight Fish Champion and smash it in all his glory against the k...
2 comments
Read more

Gammoned

The shower was running, Parker could see steam come from underneath the door. She had to pee. “Sam, hurry up, I gotta pee.” “Just a minute.” The shower droned on. She went to the kitchen and smoked a cigarette. Her window faced the west. She was watching the traffic go by, inevitably from the beach or to the beach, on this warm day. The cigarette was out. She got up and changed shirts into a tank top.  She was done waiting for Sam to get out of the bathroom. “Sam! Goddamnit! I have to pee!” When he didn’t reply she pounded on the door. Nothing. Well, he’d been in there long enough to drown. She waited a few more minutes while smoking another cigarette. The urgency of needing to urinate won and she knocked on the door again.  Nothing. He had looked sweaty when he came over and the racing gloves in 80 degree weather was a little ridiculous for driving a 1970s BMW around, its alternator was out and he had to constantly rev the engine and use the brake at the ...
3 comments
Read more