It wasn't my fault. Why didn't she lock the bathroom door?
Fran kept screaming for a good fifteen minutes.
"I'm so pissed-off, I can barely see straight!" she said, bursting into the living room from the bathroom, a small towel wrapped around her.
Her face was red. Almost as red as that moment earlier, when I walked into the bathroom and saw her coming out of the shower.
"Didn't you hear the water running?"
"I just got home and you'd already turned the water off," I said, by way of explanation. "I'm sorry."
"I'm supposed to believe this was a mistake, huh?"
"I said I was sorry, for God's sake," I said.
She would hear none of it. She let me have it with both barrels. I was some kind of perv, who more likely than not, had already drilled a peep holein her bedroom wall because she knows how guy's like me dig watching two women do it. This was the biggest mistake of her life and she should never have let some straight guy move in and if I hadn't paid my share of the rent in advance she would have thrown me out on my ass that very second and on and on and on.
I stood there and nodded my head.
She kept going, "And another thing..."
I kept nodding, but thought to myself, you know, Iām beginning to like this bitch.
I lay on my bed, listening to some old Clash tape through my head-phones. I tried to clear my mind. I couldn't. One image stayed in my head and I'm almost embarrassed to admit it.
Fran.
She has an incredible body, it's too bad she wears all that baggy shit.She shouldn't hide the gifts God's given her.
I asked my dealer for more pills.
"Put it on my tab," I said.
I headed for the bar.
I needed a drink. I needed something else.
Maybe Brenda's there. If not her, somebody else.
Anybody.
