Authors: Jamie Wahl
Michael ran to catch up with Bell.
Michael stared bleary-eyed into his cereal bowl. A familiar headache was setting in. He rubbed his forehead and took a bite of Toasty O’s.
I’m going to have to feed soon.
Michael set down his bowl and opened his laptop. He couldn’t return to the same retirement home. He pulled up the links he had emailed himself and picked the next-closest facility. He pulled up Google maps and glanced at his printer. He shook his head. He’d love to print it out and have it in his pocket when he needed it, but he wouldn’t be able to explain himself if someone found it. He picked up the little orange google man and dropped him onto the street outside his building. He’d memorize the route in virtual reality.
“Right, left, left, seven blocks, right, left,” he said through bites of soggy cereal.
He erased his search history and closed the computer.
Right, left, left, seven blocks, right, left.
He rubbed his eyes and drank his sugar-milk.
There was a knock on the door.
Maybe if I ignore them they’ll go away
.
A key slid into the lock. The door opened a crack and Randy stuck his fat face inside. “Michael, are you decent?”
Michael put his head down on the cool glass table. “Why do you care?”
He saw Randy’s shoes under the table. And Charlotte’s polka dot rain boots.
Michael sat upright so fast his knees banged into the underside of the table. He looked around his apartment in dismay.
“Did you not tell him we were coming?” Charlotte asked, shoving Randy.
“He’s fine.” Randy got himself a bowl and poured cereal into it.
“I am so sorry.” Charlotte glanced at the underwear on the floor outside the bathroom and the corner where he stacked pizza boxes. She tried to hide a smile.
“It’s okay,” Randy said. “Look around. Soak it in. This apartment stands as a testimony to my good friend Michael’s glorious bachelorhood. Let the smell of thrice-worn socks and the overall sticky residue stand as an eternal monument to—”
“Thank you, Randy,” Michael said, putting his empty bowl in the sink and clearing a pile of clothes off the table. “I am sorry about this,” he said to Charlotte, his cheeks hot as he looked for a place to put the clothes down.
Randy opened the oven.
Michael stuffed them in.
“You guys are delightful,” she laughed, pulling a thick manila folder out of her shoulder bag.
“We try.” Randy pulled a chair out for her and mimed pulling a band-aid off behind her back.
Michael glared at him. “What’s that?” he asked when Charlotte put the heavy folder down on the table.
Her cheeks flushed with guilty mischief. “A copy of the case file.”
“Woah,” Randy said. “How did you get that?” He leaned against the sink with his bowl of cereal.
Charlotte clicked her pen into action. “I have a…friend…in the department.” She opened the folder and turned to the first bright white page of a new notebook. “What do we know?”
“That is
seriously
illegal.” Randy ignored her attempt to get off the subject.
“He’s a very good friend,” She smiled at Randy pointedly.
“Still—he could get into a lot of trouble-”
“Randy,” Michael said, “she doesn’t want to get into it.”
“I’m just curious—“
“Maybe I know something about his…tastes…that could get him into even more trouble,” Charlotte answered without looking up from the file.
Randy’s mouth fell open, “You blackmailed a cop?”
Charlotte glanced up at Randy’s impressed expression and failed to hide a little twitch of a smile. “A detective, actually.”
Randy laughed but stopped mid-chuckle. “Wait- is this how you got that critic to review the show?”
Charlotte cleared her throat.
“Dang! It is, isn’t it? You are so badass!”
“I’m glad you approve,” she said snarkily, straightening her file. “Anyway, from what my friend could tell me of our Detective Paole, I’ll be facing that murder charge with or without
legitimate
evidence, so it’s a calculated risk.”
Michael and Randy shared a look at the intensity of Charlotte’s resolution. Charlotte silently layered the small table with various pieces of paper, including witness statements and photos of those involved. “So,” she repeated, “What do we know?”
I know that some vampires trapped her in the alley and left her to die.
Michael looked at his hands intently, trying to make his beleaguered brain come up with something new to them that wouldn’t betray any inside information, or reveal something that would get them killed.
“Hmmmm,” Randy said, milk dripping from his chin back into the bowl, “Nathan Fillion has a big white board where they put pictures of all the people involved in the case.”
The closest thing they had was the refrigerator. They didn’t have many magnets, but they found half a roll of scotch tape in the bottom of a drawer. It wasn’t long before they had assembled a decent looking board.
They all looked at their work with satisfaction, but no one spoke. Michael stared from one face to another, struggling not to look at Miss Barbra’s prison photo. Her blonde hair shimmered with streaks of white and silver. She had a crooked smile and a squareish nose. The orange of her jumpsuit didn’t do her ruddy complexion any favors.
Charlotte seemed to find it hard to look anywhere else. She stared down at the remaining papers in the folder with oddly bright eyes. When she glanced up at the board her jaw clenched and she had to clear her throat repeatedly.
This is cruel
, Michael thought.
No line of reasoning is ever going to lead them to murderous mythical creatures.
“Alright,” Randy said when he finished his cereal, “let’s see…” He stroked his imaginary beard for a moment before continuing, “Did Miss Barbra have a boyfriend?”
Charlotte winced. “Maybe? She never had one when I lived with my mother. Just regulars. There was this one guy who seemed like he wanted…more than just business.”
“Do you remember his name?” Randy asked, uncapping his pen.
“Tad? Tim? Something with a ‘T’. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” Michael said, getting up and getting her a glass of water. He set it down in front of her and sat back down.
A sip of water. Another long silence.
“Maybe...” Randy said cautiously, “maybe we need to talk to...someone who knew her better?”
Michael shot Randy a disapproving look. “She doesn’t have to—”
“He’s right,” Charlotte set her jaw. “I know,” she said resignedly, “I guess I can’t put it off any longer, can I?” She looked at Michael with a little laugh, and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket with shaking hands.
Randy’s stomach gurgled ominously into the silence. They looked at him. His eyes grew wide. “Milady,” he said in a bad British accent, “would you please excuse me for a mo’?”
Charlotte snorted as he rose and walked to the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him.
“He is shameless. I’m sorry.”
Charlotte waved him off, “He’s in theater. We’re all shameless.”
“Well, then, he’s just weird.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked down at her cell phone and sighed.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“No, I do,” she shrugged. “I should have done it a long time ago. It’s just….”
Michael waited. She squirmed in her chair. “I shut that door for a reason. My mother has been an alcoholic all my life. Her parents were alcoholics. Their parents weren’t anywhere. It’s one long line of awful decisions and…” She took a deep breath. “And I wanted something else. And it’s been nice. For years now everything has been fine. Stable. I’ve been better. But I think I always knew it was borrowed time. I don’t get to rewrite history. None of us do.”
“You’re not talking about what that jerk detective said, are you?” Michael asked.
“No.” She turned her phone over in her hands. “A couple of years ago, that would’ve destroyed me. But I know better than that. We are our choices. I am my mother’s daughter, but that doesn’t mean I have to make her mistakes.” She shot him a sarcastic smile. “I get to make my own!” Her cheeks flushed red, “I’ve told a lot of lies to keep my past in my past.”
Michael shrugged. “You got out of a really awful situation and escaped a terrible neighborhood. There are so few people that can do that. You did what you had to do.”
Charlotte shook her head ruefully. “Lies make you lonely. ‘Lonely’ isn’t a strong enough word. Secrets isolate you. Even when you’re out with your friends, you’ll suddenly remember that they don’t know you at all.”
Michael swallowed hard.
The bathroom door burst open and Randy came striding back into the room. “It was like the laxative scene from
Dumb and Dumber
in there.”
Charlotte scrunched up her nose.
Michael put his head down on the table.
“Buck up, man, and find us some air freshener!”
Michael sat up and held his hands out, “I don’t have any!”
“Well, then,” he used his James Bond voice again, “We’re all going to die.”
A blaring cell phone jingle burst to life from Michael’s end table, startling everyone.
“Sorry.” Michael leapt to silence his phone. “Hello?”
“Michael!” Randy and Charlotte could hear the earsplittingly sweet Southern drawl from across the room.
“Mom?” Michael said in alarm.
“Guess what, sweetheart?” Her voice was full of joy.
Michael knew what was coming. So did Randy. Michael’s mother often called from Alabama to let Michael know she would be there by evening. They shared a dread-filled glance.
“I’m getting in a cab right now!” It was meant to be a wonderful surprise.
“Oh, wow, Mom,” Michael grimaced. “This isn’t a great time—?”
“I’m getting in a dirty yellow cab, Michael!”
Their dread turned to horror.
“Oh, wow,” Michael said again, doing a surprisingly good job of sounding excited while piling his arms full of dirty clothes and anything else within arm’s reach. Randy began filling the sink with dirty dishes. Charlotte looked between the two of them in confusion and alarm.
“That’s great! I’ll see you in a bit!”
The moment the phone was shut Randy launched into an explanation.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Michael said, running past Charlotte with arms full of take-out wrappers. He stuffed them into the already too-f garbage can and ran to get more. “You can go if you want to. She usually only stays a day or two.”
Charlotte stood and grabbed the rarely-used broom beside the fridge.
Michael couldn’t help but smile as she started to sweep.
She caught his eye, and they both blushed crimson.
Randy proved useless at dishes. Charlotte noticed food still on the plates as she swept past. “What?” Randy protested, “It’s clean food!” Charlotte took over on the dishes and Randy swept everything into a huge pile of dust and socks. He shook the socks and tossed them at Michael, then scooped up the garbage and tossed it out the window. The dust bunnies stuck to the icy metal and settled on the steps below.
By the time Michael had gotten all the laundry into one intimidating pile, Charlotte was already finished with the dishes.
“That was fast,” Michael said, impressed.
“Do you not have a laundry basket?” she asked as she began un-taping their crime board and returning the photos to the folder.
“Oh,” he replied, “I was trying to do some homework in the laundry room and someone stole it while I waited for the dryer.”
“You didn’t notice them?”
“Well…I fell asleep.”
Charlotte laughed.
Another mutual blush.
“Gag,” Randy said, heaving a leaking garbage bag toward the open window.
“Don’t you dare throw that out the window!” Charlotte said.
“No one will know which apartment it came from!”
“You might hit someone!” said Michael.
“Oh, fine,” Randy said, stepping onto the fire escape and carrying it down the steps instead. “I don’t think I like the two of you together. Very bossy.”
Charlotte wiped up the trail that the soggy bag left behind.
They looked around the apartment and nodded. Close enough.
“Now as charming as this woman must be, to have caused all this fuss,” Charlotte said with a smile, grabbing her carnation pink coat, “I think I’ll go.”
“Thank you for your help.” Michael walked to get the door. “Sorry we didn’t make more progress with the- the thing.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed. “It’d be better to have that conversation alone anyway. My mom can be…challenging.”