#also I cheated and rolled up my tank top instead of actually having a crop top

[totallynotagentphilcoulson]

POV you’re in a 1980s tropical neonoir but the wisecracking baseball-loving private investigator you’ve hired is a time displaced butch Cro Magnon from the Magdalenian epoch* instead of an ex Navy Seal dude.

*don’t worry this isn’t a meanly self-deprecating joke about my body hair and current lack of socially-accepted femininity. This is a joke about my heavy brow ridge and noticeable occipital bun, and hobbyist-level ability to knap lithic tools

(They/She/He [but that last one is rly just for the worksona])

[fantasyhorrorandotherthings]

Teaser for ‘File 75′

2 

Zara

New York, 2020

3–2–1

The camera started recording.

‘Hey, guys, welcome back to my channel.’ Zara Mathews stood in front of her kitchen bench wearing a pink sleeveless crop top and black stretch pants. The arctic white walls of her apartment and the lack of clutter would serve as ascetically pleasing to the potential thousands of people, perhaps a million if she were lucky, who would see her video. ‘Today, I’m going be making a pitaya smoothie bowl. If you don’t know what pitaya is, it’s basically dragon fruit that can be ground up into a fine pink powder. You’ve probably seen it all over Instagram,’ she laughed. ‘I feel like it’s a good alternative to an acai bowl. So, for this smoothie, I’m just going to be using the usual stuff—coconut milk, frozen banana and, of course, my favourite fruit and nut mix as a topping. So, let’s get started.’

She undid the blender.

‘Hey, babe.’

His dirty breath hit her neck. The smell of unwashed skin tormented her nostrils.

‘Up already, huh,’ she said as she gazed at the blender’s blades.

‘What are you up to?’ he asked gruffly as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

‘I’m trying to make a video,’ she sighed.

He kissed her neck. His lips against her skin were like a slimy tongue.

‘Another smoothie video?’ he said mockingly. ‘What was that grey one you made yesterday? Butterfly piss?’

She rolled her eyes.

‘Butterfly pea,’ she said as she poured frozen banana chunks into the blender. ‘P–e–a.’

She pushed away from him, causing him to smirk.

‘Babe, why do you got to be doing this now? he asked. ‘It’s so early.’

‘It’s nine,’ She frowned at him.

‘Exactly, it’s Saturday. What do you have to wake up so fricken early for?’

‘It’s better for your body to wake up at the same time every day.’

‘I think that’s just some bullshit you read on Pinterest,’ he said as he went over to the fridge and grabbed a slice of pizza from the previous night when the game was on.

She glared at him as his yellow teeth ripped into the crust and observed his unwashed brown hair, the dark purple bags under his eyes, the thick stubble on his neck and on his double chin, his flaky lips, the bits of breadcrumbs and sauce stains around his mouth, and the careless way he left his robe undone. She had curly black hair, creamy brown eyes and soft, dark skin that she always moisturised and exfoliated. She didn’t think that Brock even knew what exfoliating was. She went to the gym three or four times a week and Pilates once a week. Zara took pride in her appearance, so she wondered how she ended up with this.

‘Listen, are you coming tonight?’ she asked irritably.  

‘What’s tonight?’

‘Jay’s birthday.’

‘Who?’

‘My brother?’

‘Oh yeah, that guy.’

She swore under her breath.

Around six in the evening, she found her family standing outside a burger grill. She smiled as soon as she saw them. Zara seldom ate burgers and deep-fried food, but as her mother had explained, this place sold healthy burgers, not to mention sweet potato fries.

Her mother, Deborah Mathews, a secretary at a middle school, wore a black jacket over a purple top with a gold chain necklace. She had straight black hair that she liked to keep short, a round face and the same brown eyes as Zara. She had a short, plump structure, while her husband, Jacob Mathews, a high school biology teacher, had a tall, thin build. He had dark eyes, shaved black hair, and wore a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. The two of them had been married for almost twenty-six years and had raised their children in a flat in the Bronx, where they still lived.

Their son, Jay Mathews, a freelance fitness apparel designer, was wearing a pink T-shirt with blue denim jeans. He also stood tall with his head shaved but wore some light stubble and had the same eyes as his mother and sister. Next to him, standing slightly shorter, was his girlfriend, Courtney Blake, a personal trainer, who had shoulder-length brown hair and wore a blue top tucked into black denim jeans. The two of them had been dating for around two years, and although she didn’t see them much, Zara thought they were cute together and were what Zara’s co-workers would have described as ‘hashtag couple goals’.

‘Hey.’

They all turned around and their faces lit up as they simultaneously greeted her.

‘Happy birthday,’ she said as she went to hug her brother.

‘Aw, thanks,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages.’

She noticed that her mother looked confused.

‘Where’s Brock?’

‘He couldn’t make it,’ she said. He was at home playing video games, but instead she told them, ‘He has work.’

Her mother frowned.

‘Should we go inside now?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Jay nodded.

They all walked into the restaurant, which looked more like an art studio with its wooden yet colourful interior. They found a large booth at the back with red padded seats and a pop art painting on the wall.

‘So, how are things in New Jersey?’ Zara asked once they had all taken a seat.

‘Ah, good,’ Jay nodded. ‘Well, actually, we have to something tell you.’  

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, feeling a little nervous.

‘We’re engaged!’ they both said at the same time.

‘What! You’re getting married?’

They both nodded.

‘Oh, God, congratulations,’ she said, a little taken aback by the news. She remembered when they were children, they would ride their bikes around with their neighbour Randy Barton, along with his older sister, Billie. When they were a little older, the four of them would head down to the basketball court where Randy would practice shooting hoops while the other three would sit on the side lines and play Beyoncé on loudspeakers, infuriating the old people in the neighbourhood. And now her little brother was getting married? She wanted to be happy for them, but all she could think about was Brock sitting on his ass on the couch as he ripped apart a zombie on the PlayStation.

‘And that’s not all,’ he said. ‘We’re also having a baby.’

‘No way!’

It only seemed like yesterday when Jay was a baby.

‘That’s just … wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Now I have so many questions. When’s the wedding? When’s the due date?’

‘Well, we haven’t really set a date for the wedding,’ said Courtney. ‘But the baby’s due in January.’

‘Wow, that’s just …’ She turned to face her parents. ‘Did you know this?’

‘Yeah, we already knew.’ Her mother laughed.

‘Imagine if the kid comes early at Christmas,’ her father joked.

‘Yeah, things have been pretty hectic for us lately,’ said Courtney. ‘But what about you, Zara? How is your YouTube channel going?’

‘It’s going well,’ she said. ‘I’m up to nine thousand subscribers.’

‘Oh, wow. Getting there. You’ll be considered an influencer soon.’

‘Yeah, but I’m running out of ideas, though,’ she said. ‘Recently, they all seem to be about smoothies.’

‘Maybe you could do one of those decluttering videos,’ Courtney suggested.

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if there’s much to declutter, apart from Brock’s video game console.’

And Brock himself.

For dinner, everyone got sliders and sweet potato fries. As Zara was vegan, she ordered herself some avocado sliders. After everyone had finished, she got out her phone and took a selfie with Tray.

‘One for the gram,’ she laughed.

She hugged him tightly as the timer went down.

3–2–1

She then took another one with all five of them.

‘We should do this again soon,’ said Zara.

‘Definitely,’ said Jay.

‘And listen, next time Brock’s coming,’ Courtney smiled.

She scoffed. ‘I’ll try my best.’

As Jay and Courtney parted ways, Debbie pulled Zara to the side. She noticed the apprehensive look on her mother’s face.

‘Zara,’ she said softly. ‘Is everything okay with you and Brock?’

That had caught her off guard.

‘It’s … fine.’

‘Zara,’ her mother sighed.

‘He’s just … You don’t like him, do you?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Debbie said bluntly. ‘I never have. You said that he’s at work, but I didn’t even know he had a job.’

‘Well, he … he doesn’t,’ she sighed. ‘It was just easier to say that, instead of telling everyone that he’s on the PlayStation.’

Debbie shook her head in disgust.

‘Zara, he’s thirty years old and he’s playing video games,’ she said. ‘You’re such polar opposites.’

‘Well, what’s that old saying, opposites ...’

Her mother continued to frown.

‘Okay, look, maybe things are not going great, but—’

‘Zara, you’re putting all of this hard work in, and he’s just mooching off you,’ she said. ‘Now, I’m not saying that you need my approval, but I don’t think he makes you happy.’

She couldn’t argue with that.

When she arrived back at her apartment block, she looked up at the ninth floor of ten. She knew which window to look at. It was Apartment Number 5. She remembered falling in love with the place the first time she stepped foot in it. The white walls and wooden floors were the stuff of her Pinterest vision boards. Then she found herself thinking about what was in that apartment. A boring boyfriend who never wanted to do anything.

The very first thing I see, every morning, is his stupid face with bits of food on the corners of his mouth and his drool sliding on to the pillows that I bought.

Zara unlocked the door and switched the lights on as she walked in.

‘Brock?’

She thought that he would have been playing video games in the living room but he wasn’t. She went into her bedroom, thinking he was in there, and he was, but her heart skipped a beat when she realised that he wasn’t alone.

‘Who are you!’

She had a pig-like face, bloodshot blue eyes and wisps of dyed hair which had obviously been an unsuccessful DIY job. She wasn’t wearing any pants, not even any underwear. She only wore a dirty tank top that smelled of greasy food.

She looked at Brock, who was sitting in bed in one of his usual stained singlets.

‘What the hell is going on here?’

Surely, it can’t be what I think. It must be a misunderstanding. He would never cheat on me ... he’s too fucking lazy to cheat.

‘Oh, Zara ... I wasn’t expecting you home so soon,’ he said.

Zara thought he seemed suspiciously unsurprised.  

‘Brock, who is this?’

‘This is Tessa,’ he said as he climbed out to reveal himself. Zara winced at the sight of it.

‘I’m his girlfriend,’ Tessa said as she chewed on some gum.

‘Wait, what?’ Zara shook her head in disbelief.

‘I’m sorry, Zara, but it’s over.’

‘What do you mean it’s over? Is this some sick joke?’

‘Look, Zara, we did have something going on, alright, but then you started acting all weird,’ he said. ‘You started waking up at five-thirty in the morning, not eating meat and doing yoga or whatever, and then you started talking about it on the Internet.’

‘I was trying to improve myself,’ she said defensively. ‘I wanted both of us to improve.’

‘He didn’t need no improvement.’ Tessa placed her hands on her hips and leaned her torso and neck forward like a chicken as she spoke. ‘He don’t need no insta-hoe to rule his life!’

‘Insta-hoe? What? Get the fuck out of my apartment, both of you!’  

‘Um, honey, it’s his apartment,’ said Tessa. ‘You pack up your things and move in back with ya mama.’

‘Listen, you piece of trash, this is my apartment,’ she snapped. ‘My family helped me buy it. I decorated it. I maintained it. I cleaned up after him every night. He had hardly any interest in choosing the right place for us to live. I had to do all the decision-making, while he just strolled along behind me, hoping to get out of his mum’s place. Well, you can both go back to his mama. I’m sure you’ll all be really fucking happy together in that tiny apartment.’

‘We better go, Tessa,’ said Brock as he picked up his underwear from the floor. ‘Before Zara fucking kills us.’

She turned her back to them while they got dressed. Her mouth went dry and her eyes filled up with tears.

How could I have been so stupid? It was so obvious to everyone else that things were not working out. Why didn’t I just admit that to myself and end it on my terms?

‘I’ll come back for my stuff later,’ he said awkwardly.

‘No, I’ll send it to you,’ she said bitterly. ‘I never want to see you in this apartment again.’

He pulled up his zipper.

‘Let’s go,’ he sighed.

‘That’s right, bitch,’ Tessa said proudly as she and Brock exited the apartment. ‘He’s my man now.’

Zara almost grabbed her by the neck, but she managed to restrain herself and simply said, ‘You can have him, you ugly little troll.’