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Scribe
Join Date: Sep 2005
Posts: 96
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Vegas Boy Chap. 3
Chapter Three.
Say a word long enough and it loses its meaning to you. It sounds different; you are disgusted with its new sound, feel. And yet you say it one more time, just to make it more awkward in your mind. Lump. It was the size of a golf ball, in both breasts. I’ve never been so sure I felt something as bad as when I touched Leslie Shaw’s boobs.
“So do you feel anything?” she asked so innocently as if the answer was that simple, yes or no. But I couldn’t lie. But I had to. But I can’t.
Those beautiful green eyes, just staring at me, I can’t.
They’re fine, I wouldn’t be too worried.
“Really? Oh my god I was so worried,” she said as her face lit up, I felt like the biggest ass in the world.
Yeah, those are fine.
“Thank god, I swear I was so worried.” She was glowing. Every second I lied, she liked me more. So I lied and I lied, and lied. And then I lied some more. I lied so much we were going to dinner together tonight.
“Do you like Italian?” she asked.
Yeah love it.
Lie.
She wrote her number on an empty prescription note that was laying on my desk. 642-1557. Call me. She told me to call her when I drove up to her apartment. She wrote down the address next to her number. 847 Winchester, on the corner of 153rd and Winchester. I told her I’d love to pick her up, I’d call her when I’d arrive, and I’d love to take her out.
Lies.
I didn’t own a car.
I had no cell phone.
And I didn’t have the money, at least to take her out to Benigiio’s, which she suggested. When she left there was no need to panic, all I had to do was pick her up, in a car which I don’t have, and call her, with a phone I didn’t have, and buy her dinner, with the money I don’t have. Instead of telling her the truth, or at least altering it in my favor, I lied. I couldn’t stop her, she was so happy; it was like a little kid stopping Santa on Christmas night. No please, just wait a moment; I promise Santa, I’ll be a good boy. Like betting against a rigged card game, the cards were set, and I got the bad hand, and I kept betting, I bet it all. Everything. Instead of trying to fix this fucked up situation, I watched TV, then I ate, then I napped, and then I pissed. It was 6:11 and I had to pick her up at 7:30. Sharp. She smirked, trying to look serious.
“I don’t like being late,” She said as she wrote her address. 6:14 and I had an hour and sixteen minutes, or seventy six minutes, or four thousand five hundred and sixty seconds, or not enough time to go pick her up. I got dressed, took me a whole forty two minutes, and it was 6:56, shit.
I left my tiny apartment and headed downstairs, I held her information in my hand, in my pocket. I squeezed it as a hard as I could. I could get robbed right now, but I won’t let go of 847 Winchester, on the corner of 153rd and Winchester. It was night, but not dark, days seemed longer now, the sun covered by clouds, the world turns light blue. I started walking, I don’t know where, I just walked. The thought of stealing a car came to my mind with each car I passed. Sixty seven times, I told myself, steal it, just brake the window and hot wire that Honda, hybrid, Toyota, convertible, Ford, truck, Jeep, Chevy, BMW, hybrid, Nissan, Jaguar, Saturn, Land rover, hybrid. The amount of hybrids multiplied since I last stole a car. It was 7:09 and I was god knows where, with no car, no phone, no money, and she could live on the other side of town for all I know. And I found it. It was perfect, just standing there, parked, and waiting. A 1999 Nissan Maxima, dark green, was parked deep in an alley between Mike’s Refrigerators and Stan the Man’s Carpeting. Conceded fuckers. The driver got out of the car and walked past me into the Refrigerator Depot, I was all alone, it was just me and her. Haven’t done this since I was eighteen. I looked around, but not too suspiciously, scanned my surroundings, but remained unnoticed, walked to the car, but not too fast. One last check, all around, nothing. Wrapped my scarf around my elbow and smashed the driver side window, that wasn’t so hush hush. I had a minute to get out of here.
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