He opened his eyes and sat up in the alleyway, muttering, "Whathafugwasdat?" through a mouth that felt full of hot glue. He then remembered the Bentley, the fedoras, the raincoat and the gun. With recollection of the last piece of the list, his heart slammed heavily in his chest and he jumped to his feet, skinny arms raised for a fight. He almost felt disappointed when he took in the realization that there was nothing there, not even so much as tire tracks or footprints in the dirty gravel. He dared to hope that all of it had been a dream until he saw his bike's mangled seat post and noticed his body's various aches and the tiny bleeding cuts all over his palms. He looked sadly at his bike, knowing the poor thing couldn't take much more excitement in this vein and began slamming the bent post against the rim of a close-by dumpster until the seat seemed to point in a vaguely comfortable direction. He piled his sagging body on top of it and peddled slowly out of the alley.
Outside, the sky still seemed upset and the wet streets reflected the sentiment, but he could still see the distance the sun had moved from its spot earlier in the morning and knew he had been asleep for at least a few hours. Suddenly finding himself to be in desperate need of fried eggs, he headed instinctively into the parking lot of the near-crumbling Janet's Fine Food and Friendly Feelings Diner (Or, "Effing Janet's," as most people who knew about it called it). He leaned his bike against the back wall and walked through the side door, taking his usual seat by the window.
"Oh, now lookee who caught me on my break," said a voice over his shoulder as a thin blonde girl in an apron walked around his chair and sat down across from him.
"Well I didn't mean to," said Ezra, suddenly losing his appetite.
"Now come on, I know when a guy's trying to get close to me, and you're trying to get close to me. I can feel it in my hips."
"Your hips? What does that mean?"
"I think you know exactly what I mean," she said, leaning across the table and brushing her fingers across the back of his hand.
Her nametag said "Claire," but she usually went by Lily. She had been Ezra's down-the-hall neighbor for the last eight months and had made a point since his move-in day to always make herself as available as possible to him. He had no idea how old she was, where she was from, who her family was or why she liked him so much, but he had always assumed her to be some sort of wannabe black widow serial killer.
She looked at the hand she was stroking and gasped dramatically. "Ezra! What happened to you? My poor man is all cut up," she said with an over-pronounced pout.
"Yeah, crashed my bike. It's okay though, don't—" he was interrupted when she lifted his hand to her lips and drew her face into a cartoonish pucker. "Don't DO that, okay? God...it'll be fine. Anyway, yunno how I haven't been...sleeping very well lately?"
"Yes, you've been losing so much sleep and for all the wrong reasons and I just can't stop worrying about you."
"Sure. Anyway, I had this crazy hallucination or something this morning where these guys were following me and I tried to get away, but I crashed. Next thing I know, I'm lying in the alley over off Cassidy Street, having the craziest dream I've ever had. I just woke up."
"You slept in a gutter?!"
"Well yeah, but not intentionally. I think I passed out when I crashed and my body was so tired it just kept me under for a few hours. I'm fine."
"That's terrible. You look absolutely disgusting, no offense. I know your washer's broken, so you'll just have to come over to my place and wash your clothes. Don't worry, I have a robe I'll let you use."
"Aaaaand that's where this conversation ends. Buh bye."
"Oh come on, baby! Don't go! I forgot about something I was supposed to tell you yesterday."
"Fine," Ezra said, slumping his shoulders in resignation. "What was it?"
"Okay, " she started. "These two old fashion lookin' guys came over yesterday and asked where you were. They seemed pretty ticked."
***TO BE CONTINUED***
No comments:
Post a Comment