Tuesday 200 - #37
“Hi honey, can I come up?’
I’m not sure who it is, but he’s awfully friendly and sounds like he knows me. Voices over our intercom are never that clear, like flies are translating through the wires.
He’s been here before, because he knows exactly which door. The blue one, three flights up, with no names or markings. Two knocks.
“Hey,” he says, his crooked smile flatlining, then curling back up, this time a little less sincere. “Um, is David here?”
“Sorry, he’s out right now. And you are?”
His name is Nigel. “Just wanted to thank David again for Spring Awakening,” he says, hiking his backpack onto his shoulder.
“Dave should be here in just a few minutes,” I say. “Come in and wait for him. I know he’d hate to miss you.”
Two glasses of wine later, he’s telling me how hot my cousin is. “I couldn’t believe he picked me up at The Eagle,” Nigel says. “I never get lucky in bars.”
“Odd, David says the same thing. Oh, and he’s not my …”
The door opens and in he walks. Nigel beams. David blanches.
“Hi coz,” I say.
There’s a moment you know … you’re fucked.
:: :: ::
Tuesday 200
fiction