AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No.”
“There you go. I’m at work right now, but just go get food or something. It’ll be uncomfortable, but you’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure you can’t do it?” I ask.
I’ve never liked confrontation.
Mike sighs on the other end of the phone.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says, “if you can hold out until I’m off, I’ll come over and provide moral support.”
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “All right,” I sigh, and hang up.
I had been so focused on the phone call that I hadn’t noticed the disembodied grunting in Dane’s room had ceased.
I go back to my room and close the door. I don’t want to see him or the woman that’s in there.
Sadly, the two were apparently taking a breather, as that thump, thump, thumping of the headboard is back and louder than before.
I get dressed in record time, grab my wallet, and am out the door. It’s not until the latch clicks behind me that I realize I forgot my keys.
This is quite possibly the worst day of my life.
* * *
I’m not going to lie. I’m a little drunk.
Dane was right about that whole hair-of-the-dog thing. This is fantastic.
That is, I feel fantastic right up until I feel my phone vibrating in my bra and realize that I now have to go home and deal with everything.
I order another drink for the road.
Walking used to be the easiest thing in the world. It’s been years since I’ve even given the task much thought, but trying to keep a straight line down the sidewalk takes every bit of concentration I have.
Mike’s on his way. At the rate I’m going, I should get there about 10 minutes before he does.
I just hope he relents and does some of the talking. Sauced or not, I’m not looking forward to kicking the guy out.
When I get to my building, I don’t bother waiting out front for Mike like I told him I would; I just go straight up there.
Maybe if I do this quick, Mike can arrive just in time to throw Dane out on his ear.
That’s the dream.
I spend a few solid minutes going through my pockets before I remember having left the keys inside.
I knock on the door and wait.
While I’m waiting, something triggers a memory within me. Something about my father, but I can’t put a finger on it.
I knock again, but there’s no answer.
He must be out.
I don’t have Dane’s number in my phone since my call history automatically deletes itself, so all I can do is wait for Mike to get here and then track down the super.
As I’m walking away from my door, I realize what’s triggering the memory: someone's cooking confit de canard. My dad used to make it in his restaurant.
