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clarepreed · 2 years ago

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Late Night at the Office

Short Story Summary and Content: 5,930 words, female victim, choking and on-site resuscitation.

Larissa

Larissa glanced at the clock. Two AM. She should have gone home hours ago. At this rate, she would have to wear her emergency suit to her morning presentation and hope there was ice in the kitchen to calm her swollen eyelids. Sighing, Larissa dragged her long, honey blonde hair into a messy bun, rubbed her hands over her eyes, and made herself take a deep breath before she surveyed the room.

She had the SMART board ready, as well as the easel and chart paper. There were marketing materials, demo items, and giveaways arranged artfully on the conference table. She had her pitch memorized.

She had this.

The only reason she was nervous, or at least as far as she could determine, was because this was her first solo pitch with such an important client. Sure, her CEO would be there, but he wasn’t participating in the presentation. It was all on her, and she was pretty sure that if she did well and bagged the client, there was a promotion forthcoming. A promotion that included her own assistant, which would mean no more early morning meeting prep. And more sleep, maybe even time to go to the gym.

She ran her hands down the sides of her body, feeling the new curves she’d accumulated over the past year. She’d had to buy an entirely new wardrobe. A wardrobe she now realized did not include her emergency suit.

“Dammit,” she muttered. Then she pulled herself together and shook her head. “It’s alright. I think I can get out of here within the hour.”

The office was silent. Security had locked up, verified with her that she was staying late, and then retired to the office with the camera monitors. She thought someone had been in and out around ten, but she hadn’t heard or seen anything since. Granted, she hadn’t left the conference room since she had to pee at midnight.

The weather was bad; she’d heard rain hammering the side of the building when she’d gone to the bathroom. She’d assumed if she stayed late enough the storm would pass and she’d have an easier time of it when she left the office.

Her stomach rumbled, interrupting her thoughts. She hadn’t eaten dinner, and all she had in the conference room was a bowl of hard candy.

Larissa padded around the big table in her bare feet and plucked a bright red disc-shaped candy from the bowl. They were all bright red, so she brought the wrapped candy to her nose and sniffed while she looked idly up and down the table. Cinnamon, she thought. Not her favorite, but it would do. Maybe it would settle her stomach, which was roiling with nerves.

She unwrapped the candy and padded back over to one of the trash cans, dropping the wrapper inside as she popped the candy into her mouth.

Then she was back at the table, resisting the urge to crunch the sweet disc as she went around and changed the position of the boxes of branded fountain pens. Her mouth was watering as her digestive system begged for more calories. She was probably going to have to stop for something on her way home, if anything was open.

Thunder cracked, barely audible in the conference room but enough to rattle the exterior windows, drawing her attention. She straightened, turning her head sharply to look for the source of the noise. As she moved, she inhaled and immediately started coughing, the cinnamon-flavored saliva hitting the back of her throat and inducing a fit. She coughed into her elbow, surprised by the ferocity of the coughing jag and growing lightheaded from want of air. She sucked in a breath, careless of the positioning of the candy, which she then sucked down into her airway, blocking it.

The panic was immediate. Her arms flailed out, one hitting the transparent walls of the conference room, the other knocking into the monitor on the presentation desk in the corner. She tried to cough, couldn’t. Pounded on her chest with a closed fist, leaning over the trash can. Jammed her fingers into her mouth, trying to grasp the candy and pull it free. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears, and it felt like her entire face was bulging. Her abdomen and chest muscles were working futilely, trying to draw breath into her panicking body.

Desperate, she shoved her fist into her stomach, just above her navel. This proved useless, and she staggered forward, painfully shoving herself into the corner of the conference table.

Her limbs were already beginning to feel numb, a gray fog interspersed with flashing lights slipping over her eyes.

Security, she thought.

There wasn’t a phone in the conference room, but she knew one of the secretaries nearby took calls for that space, posted close to the door in case the occupants needed anything.

She slammed the conference room door open, reeling, headed in the wrong direction. She’d forgotten there were doors on both ends of the conference space, and she’d gone out the back corner instead of the front entrance.

Disoriented, she staggered into a wall, knocking a framed piece of art to the floor. The frame cracked and the glass shattered, and she hardly felt it when the glass sliced into her foot. Another set of motion detecting lights clicked on as she knocked into the opposing wall.

She tried the door of the first office, but it was locked.

Her knees gave out, and she landed hard on her chest. She felt the used up air in her lungs try to force its way out, but the candy didn’t budge. Her hands clawed at her throat, at the floor, and she managed to roll onto her back just as her vision blacked out.

“What the fuck?!” She heard a man’s voice, though it sounded like he spoke at the end of a long tunnel. She felt someone grip her arms, hard, and pull her hands away from her neck.

Then she was gone.

Mitchell

He was sleeping in his office, something he’d sworn to his mother he’d never do.

Granted, it was a nice place to sleep. The sofa was comfortable, the room temperature optimal, and he had a blanket. Even better, he had a small closet for clothing and access to the executive facilities, which included a private kitchen, small gym, and showers.

He’d been out on a date after his normal working hours. A rainy date with someone much too young that had gone very poorly. After loading his date up in an Uber and getting thoroughly soaked in the process, Mitchell decided to swing by the office to wrap up a few loose ends. Then he’d gotten a flood alert and decided trying to drive home in the rain was a bad idea.

He dozed off at ten, woke up around one-thirty, and was unable to fall back to sleep. He got up instead and puttered around on his computer, thinking about his disastrous date, the highlight of which was when the young man got drunk, harassed the wait staff, and tried to put it all (including Mitchell’s face) on Instagram. Or TikTok. He wasn’t sure.

“No more dates under thirty-five,” he muttered to himself. “Men or women.”

A half hour passed, and he was thinking about laying back down on the couch when he heard a crash and breaking glass just down the hall.

He reached automatically for the phone to call security but decided against it. He seriously doubted there was an intruder; chances were that one of his executives was coming in from a night on the town and didn’t expect anyone to be there. This sort of behavior wasn’t exactly encouraged, but considering the weather Mitchell was willing to overlook minor indiscretions.

He thought about ignoring the sound, but he decided he’d better check it out. His Chief Revenue Officer tended toward alcoholism and had already injured himself once this year; he’d feel guilty if James needed help and he slept through it. He hoped it wasn’t James, he thought the treatment the company had paid for had been going well.

Mitchel left his office, walking through his secretary’s space in his socked feet. When he opened the door, he noticed the lights were already on. Several doors down, to the left, he saw a picture on the floor and a woman lying next to it, her hands clawing at her throat as her back bowed and her bare feet kicked listlessly against the nearby baseboard. There was a spattering of blood trailing down the hall from the picture to her body, even smeared on the wall, coming from an apparent wound in her foot.

His mouth fell open, and his brain took several seconds to interpret what he was seeing.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, before darting forward and dropping to his knees next to her.

Larissa, he thought, though she was barely recognizable. Larissa Colton, Marketing. He was supposed to be observing her presentation in the morning. Instead, she looked in dire straits, fingers digging bloody tracks in the delicate skin of her throat.

Instinctively, he grabbed her forearms and wrenched them back. At the same time, her body went limp, head tipping to the side, her wide, light-colored eyes staring at the wall. Mitchell hovered there, her arms still in his grip, uncertain as to what had just happened. A few more seconds passed, and then he let her arms drop, reaching down instead to grasp her face in his hands.

“Larissa!” He called out. The shock was fading, replaced quickly by fear. The woman’s face was a dark, purplish red. He was fairly certain this was her, though the picture in his mind was of an attractive woman with a curvaceous figure, something he was never supposed to admit he’d noticed. Now, her bulging eyes and purple skin looked horrifying. Drool spilled over her chin, and her nails had clawed bloody marks down her neck and across her chest. She was dressed only in a camisole and pencil skirt, and he could see smudges of blood down the front of her shirt. “Larissa?”

Mitchell required everyone in the office to be certified annually for CPR, AED, and First Aid. His own father had been saved by a coworker who knew how to use an AED and gone on to live another two years. But Mitchell had been fortunate enough to never need to use any of that training.

Now, he put one hand on Larissa’s forehead and the other on her chin, tilting her head back and lowering his ear over her mouth.

She smelled like sugar and artificial cinnamon, an odd combination for a woman who looked that unwell and evidently wasn’t breathing.

“Fuck!” he blurted. He scrambled to his feet and bolted back to his office, nearly wiping out in his socked feet. He ran inside and grabbed his cell phone before rushing back out, stopping at his secretary’s desk to hit the panic button. Then he skated back down the hall to Larissa’s lifeless body. She lay on her back, staring at the wall, looking even worse than she had a couple of minutes prior. He knew better, but he was disappointed that she hadn’t miraculously started breathing while he was gone.

He dropped beside her, dialed 9-1-1 and put the phone on speaker before setting it next to him. He could hear the line ringing and leaned over her. He didn’t think he’d been this scared… ever, really. He felt his hands shake.

You are not where you are in life because you panic under pressure, he told himself, quickly running through what he remembered from CPR class.

He clasped his hands together and pressed the heel between her breasts, rocking his shoulders over his hands. Then he pushed down, hard, remembering he was aiming for a two-inch depth.

Crushing a person’s ribcage down toward their spine was unpleasant, and he made an involuntary noise in his throat as he thought about the damage he was doing. He concentrated instead on coming up and down quickly, that god-awful disco song running through his mind as he performed compressions. Her ribcage did not feel at all like a CPR mannequin. For one, her skin was still warm. And a CPR mannequin didn’t creak and crackle when you compressed it.

“…thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…” Was he supposed to count?

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“…eighteen, nineteen…” He continued to compress Larissa’s chest as he replied: “My employee, she’s not breathing! I’ve started CPR!”

“What’s your address?”

He rattled off the address and floor number, managing to only stammer once. His eyes couldn’t stop roving up and down Larissa’s body as he worked. Her feet were rocking, shoulders popping, head wobbling on her neck. Eyes staring. Then he gave the operator his cell phone number. By now he’d lost count of compressions, so he just kept on, pressing hard and fast. He wondered where the hell security was.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Mitchell Anders,” he gasped out. Logically, he knew they were already dispatching help, but he wanted to tell the man to hurry the fuck up.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I don’t know. I heard a noise out in the hall, and I found my employee on the floor. She couldn’t breathe. She lost consciousness almost as soon as I found her.”

“How old is the patient?”

“Late thirties?”

“Is the patient conscious?”

“No!” he exclaimed. His arms were starting to burn, and he found himself wishing he’d used that private gym more often. “Her eyes are open, but… she’s not blinking, or breathing. I’m doing chest compressions!”

“Okay, patient is not breathing and not responding.”

“Correct!”

“Did she take anything?”

“I don’t know… Before she passed out, she was clawing at her throat.”

“Can you check in her mouth? Take your index finger and sweep it between her teeth. Look for any foreign objects.”

Mitchell stopped compressions and grasped her jaw, holding open her mouth while he looked inside. He raked a finger between her teeth once, twice, and a third time.

“I can’t feel or see anything.”

On a whim, Mitchell leaned forward, pinched her nose shut, and took a deep breath. The local Red Cross had switched to teaching compression-only bystander CPR in his annual courses, but he remembered rescue breathing from years prior. He sealed his mouth over hers and blew a breath into her. His cheeks puffed out, as did hers, but the air wouldn’t go into her lungs. He tried a second time, their lips making a spluttering sound as the air escaped between them.

“Sir? Mitchell?”

He started compressions again. “I tried to give her rescue breaths. I think she choked on something, or maybe an allergic reaction… the air wouldn’t go down her throat. I couldn’t see anything. She smells like… candy, though…”

“Continue chest compressions, sir.” A few seconds passed as he forced his hands deep into her chest. “Sir, I’m told we already have a unit downstairs at your building. Is there someone who can let them in?”

“Security should already be doing that,” he shouted. “I don’t know where they are!”

“How long would it take you to get downstairs?”

Mitchell thought about that with growing dread. It would take him several minutes to get downstairs and back, which would leave Larissa alone on the floor in apparent cardiac arrest with no help at all. That being said, the paramedics would be able to help her more than he could. Maybe he could carry her to the elevator? As he was thinking, he felt something give in her chest.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. “I just broke something inside her!”

“That’s okay, sir. Keep performing chest compressions. Do you know how long it would take you to get—”

The operator cut out.

“Hello?” Mitchell called.

“Yes, sir, I’m told security has let the paramedics into your building. Please stay on the line until they’ve reached you.”

“Thank God,” he muttered. He was breathing hard, his sweat dripping on the dying woman underneath him. Her face was slowly turning from purple to gray, and her lips were blue. He wondered what that meant for her in the long term, assuming the paramedics could save her life. He’d been looking forward to her presentation; Larissa was an affable woman, smart and creative. Mitchell had expected her to ace the pitch that she was obviously now unable to give.

“Tell you what,” he said, his voice hoarse and his breathing labored. “You survive this, the promotion is yours. And all the recovery time you need, paid. And some vacation time on top of that. Just… don’t die here, okay?” She stared through him, her head shaking. He hoped it was more of an affirmative nod.

He heard the soft ding of the elevator, and then someone called out: “Mr. Anders? Paramedics are here!”

“Back here!” he shouted. “Near my office! Hurry!”

A security officer and two paramedics rounded the corner, jogging and wheeling a gurney with various bags and equipment sat on top or slung over their shoulders. One of the paramedics dropped down beside him and said: “Thank you, sir, I’ve got her.”

Mitchell lifted his hands and scooted quickly to the side, watching as the paramedic started forceful compressions. Both of them were wet from the rain. He clambered to his feet, breathing hard, arms shaking. He backed a few feet down the hall to keep from interfering, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Her name is Larissa,” he said, and one of the paramedics looked up and nodded.

“Now that the paramedics are there I’m going to disconnect,” he heard the operator say.

Performing compressions was ultimately worse than watching them but watching them was pretty terrible. The paramedic appeared to be caving in her chest, over and over again. Meanwhile, the second paramedic worked quickly around the first, cutting down the middle of her shirt and her bra, exposing her bluish breasts. He connected a monitor and then put some sort of metal scope down Larissa’s throat. The noise from the monitor quickly became part of the background, as he watched the paramedic use a long pair of forceps to pluck a red disc from Larissa’s airway.

Those cinnamon candies we keep stocked in the conference room, he thought. Fuck. She was in there preparing for the presentation.

“Pause compressions,” he heard the second paramedic say, and he watched him intubate her. The paramedic used a stethoscope to listen to her lungs as he squeezed the bag he’d attached. Then he started winding tape around the tube and sticking it to her face. “I’m in, equal on both sides, continue compressions.”

The second paramedic was everywhere, inflating Larissa’s lungs by squeezing the bag attached to the tube, inserting an IV. Snipping the top of Larissa’s skirt so he could press his fingers to a spot by her groin.

Time slowed. There seemed to be endless rounds of compressions, and medications injected into the IV. He heard talk of loading her up mid-arrest and transporting her to the hospital.

Abruptly, the first paramedic said: “She’s in v-fib.”

“Charging,” the second paramedic chimed in, squeezing the bulb.

Compressions continued until the second paramedic dropped orange squares onto Larissa’s bare chest. The first paramedic raised his hands, and Mitchell saw the ugly purple bruise forming over Larissa’s sternum.

The second paramedic pressed paddles against the orange square. Mitchell realized he had his hands pressed to his mouth, watching as the second paramedic called out: “Clear!” and then delivered the shock, making Larissa’s torso jump and her limbs twitch.

“Still in v-fib,” the first paramedic said, leaning over to start compressions again.

“Charging.”

Mitchell’s phone, forgotten and lying on the floor, was ringing. He glanced at it, saw the name of his CFO. Wondered if security had called her. He ignored it.

“Clear!” The second paramedic said, delivering another shock. Her body jerked again, her limbs flicking.

There was a long few seconds of silence from the paramedics, another pulse check, and then: “Sinus rhythm. Got her!”

Mitchell wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but they’d stopped compressions and the paramedics seemed… he didn’t know if “pleased” was the right word, but the energy in the hallway was significantly different. Then, while he was watching, Larissa’s hand twitched, the fingers curling slightly. His own heart skipped a beat.

“Larissa!” the first paramedic called as he inflated the blood pressure cuff around her arm. “Go ahead and let us know you can hear me, alright?”

“She’s not making any respiratory effort yet,” the second paramedic said. “Maintaining her rhythm so far. Wrap her up and get her on the road?”

“Soon as I bandage her foot, looks like she stepped in the glass.”

“Sir?” Mitchell looked up. He didn’t even realize he’d sunk to the floor, sitting against the wall, watching as the paramedics continued to monitor Larissa’s vitals and breathe for her through the tube protruding from between her teeth. Now, the security guard was leaning over him, Mitchell’s phone in hand. “I think someone’s trying to reach you. And uh, I need to get back downstairs. We’re short staffed tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Mitchell said. A shot of anger cut through his momentary disorientation. “Short staffed?”

“Yes, sir.”

The phone was ringing in his hand again. He ground out: “Go ahead and get downstairs. I’ll discuss this with your supervisor tomorrow. Thank you.”

The guard hesitated, then nodded, hurrying down the hall.

“This is Mitchell,” he said quietly, holding his phone up to his ear. They were covering Larissa with a blanket and seemed to be preparing to move her to the gurney.

“What’s going on up there? Do you know?” He heard his CFO Charise’s voice. “They called me when they couldn’t get you.”

“I was on the phone with 9-1-1,” he said, his voice grim. “One of our employees was here late and almost choked to death. I… She’s alive, I know that much. They’re about to transport her.”

“Oh my God,” Charise said. “Who? And you were there?”

“Yes, I…” He realized they might need help getting out of the building, so he pushed himself to his feet. “Listen, Charise… I need you to call Dennis. Tell him what happened. He needs to reach out to Larissa Colton’s emergency contact. Then you need to call Mark and tell him he’s running the pitch with Lenovo. And tomorrow I need to have a talk with Jeff. There was a massive failure with the panic button system tonight.”

“Got it. Larissa Colton, emergency contact. Then tell Mark. I’ll help you get a meeting with Jeff.”

Mitchell hurried down the hallway to grab his shoes and his coat. His office loungewear would have to do. “I’m going to find out where they’re taking her and go to the hospital. I’ll meet her emergency contact there.”

“Okay. Okay, thank you for doing that, Mitchell.”

“I feel… I need to know how this goes,” he said, his voice rough. “I hope she makes it. I don’t think she’s breathing on her own yet.”

“Oh. God…”

“Yeah, listen, Charise… I’ll let you know when I know more.”

“Okay, Mitchell. Take care.”

“Goodbye.” Mitchell jammed his feet into his shoes and jogged back down the hall where they’d loaded up Larissa. “I’ll escort you out. Do you know which hospital you’re taking her to? I’m going to try to meet her emergency contact there.”

“Second General.”

“Okay. Second General. I’ll follow you.” Larissa’s hand was trailing off the side of the gurney. He reached out, squeezed it, and then deposited it gently beside her.

Just breathe and wake up, right? Breathe and wake up.

Larissa, four days after the incident

She awoke, slowly, coming out of sedation, feeling confused and sluggish.

As she gained awareness, several things stood out:

Someone was holding her hand and squeezing it regularly. Someone else was smoothing her hair. There was a tube down her throat, inflating her lungs at regular intervals. The air in her sinuses was very dry. Her chest and throat hurt.

“Larissa? Baby?” Mom.

“Just keep talking to her.” An unfamiliar voice.

“Open your eyes, honey.” Dad.

Her parents sounded very worried. She couldn’t place where she was, or why they would be there, or why something was breathing for her.

I must be sick. Did I catch COVID? Mom and Dad shouldn’t be in here. This is a hospital, right?

“Larissa, open those pretty eyes.” That unfamiliar voice again.

She had a lot of questions, and none of them could be answered with her eyes closed. So she opened them.

Mitchell, ten days after the incident

“We don’t know how to thank you.” Larissa’s parents were gushing, and Mitchell had never been great with gushing. He felt his face flush hot. Am I blushing? I do not blush.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just… very glad that she’s going to be okay. And we’re looking forward to having her back at work, when she’s ready. I really appreciate you keeping us informed of her condition, it’s really given me—us peace of mind. Ah...I actually brought a bunch of well-wish cards from her co-workers, and some other things. Her direct supervisor suggested a donation to the Nature Conservancy in lieu of flowers? So we did that.” He realized he was talking too fast, so he shut his mouth with a click.

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Mrs. Colton said. “She volunteers with them, when she has time. She had more time when she was younger, of course…”

“Honey, let me take the man up to see her. Why don’t you go get us some coffee?” Mr. Colton reached out and clapped Mitchell on the arm. “I’ll be sure to embarrass him some more in the elevator, don’t worry.”

In the elevator, with the box of cards and other documents tucked under his arm, Mitchell wasn’t sure what to say to Larissa’s father. They rode in silence for a few floors until their floor dinged and the doors opened. Mitchell held the doors open with his arm, insisting Mr. Colton exit ahead of him.

Before they could head down the hall, Mr. Colton turned to him, his face red and his jaw working, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “My wife is right. We really don’t know how to thank you. Not even for all the nice things you’ve done since it happened, but… but for helping her. I’m given to understand that she would be dead if you hadn’t helped her. And if not dead, then severely brain damaged. As it is… seems like she’s mostly going to be herself once she gets out of here.”

Mitchell nodded, surprised to feel his own eyes burning. He reached out to shake Mr. Colton’s hand. “Sir, it was…”

He trailed off, shook his head, and tried again. “I… To be honest, sir. Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” Mr. Colton said, releasing his hand.

“She scared the piss out of me. Sir.”

Her father blinked in surprise, and then laughed. “It’s not funny, but I wasn’t expecting that to come out of someone who looks like he ought to be on the front of Forbes.”

“It’s the truth. I was very worried for her. I’m glad that I was able to help.”

“Let’s go see her. She’ll want to thank you herself.”

They walked down to her room, her father leading. When they reached her door, Mitchell took two confident steps inside, and then froze. He couldn’t identify the feeling he was having. She hadn’t noticed them yet, and was sitting upright in her hospital bed, knees drawn up with a book propped up on them. Her hair was in a long, clean braid over her shoulder. She was still wearing various leads and a nasal cannula, but she looked…

“Mr. Anders?” her father asked. “Do you need to sit down?”

He did feel a little dizzy, if he was being honest. His brain kept comparing his last images of her to how she looked now. A little pale, perhaps, but there were dots of color on her cheeks. And her eyes looked normal. Not glazed over and staring through him. Alive, looking around. Looking at him.

“I uh… No, sir, I’m good. Larissa?”

“Mr. Anders?” she asked, looking surprised. He wondered if she had expected someone else from the company to visit.

“You know it’s Mitchell,” he said. “After all that. Mitchell.”

“‘All that’?” she said, laughing. He noticed she winced a little as she laughed, pressing a hand against her chest. Then she closed her book, stretched out her legs, and motioned him closer. “‘All that.’ I guess I don’t know how to word it, either. How often does the CEO of the company you work for directly save your life?”

He was blushing again. She was beautiful, and he was getting a lot of genuine pleasure from watching her move and breathe normally. She was smart, too, based on the presentation she’d prepared and never gotten to present. He thought the book was a good sign. Perhaps there hadn’t been much damage after all.

“Mitchell?” she asked, uncertain.

I need a therapist, he thought. I’m forty-five and I’ve never had one, but obviously I need one because I’m acting like I have a crush on my employee, who I last saw half-naked and semi-dead. That’s got to be some kind of complex.

“Sorry,” he said. He walked over to her bedside. Her father had taken a seat by the window and was watching them with raised eyebrows. He shook his head. “I… It’s really good to see you feeling better, Larissa. I was worried about you.”

Now she was blushing. At least he wasn’t alone.

“I’m told you found me and performed CPR until the paramedics got there.” She laid it right out on the table. “I choked on some candy… I thought I was going to die.”

“I… yeah, I did. I thought you were going to as well. Die, I mean. I was scared.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you didn’t die. By the way, I had my secretary get rid of all that shit. Crap, I mean. The candy. She replaced it with these fancy tins of dinner mints? Said they dissolve quickly.”

“That’s good, I don’t think I want to even smell that stuff ever again.” She dropped her eyes to the box under his arm, then back up to his face. “I’m sorry about the presentation.”

“You’re sorry about the presentation?” he asked, aware he sounded like an idiot.

“I really wanted to give that presentation.” She sounded regretful.

“OH! Oh, don’t worry about that. Mark used your prep work. He said it was fantastic. We got the account.”

“Oh,” she murmured, looking an odd combination of pleased and sad. “That’s good.”

“I actually have some things for you,” Mitchell said, shaking the box. “May I set this next to you on the bed?”

“Go ahead,” she said, shifting a little to make room. When she moved, the neckline of her hospital gown dipped low enough that he could see the top edge of the yellowing bruises on her chest.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “I mean, considering? I forgot to ask. You just… you look a lot better.”

“I should be getting out in a few days,” she said, smiling. “I uh, won’t be back to work yet, though. Assuming that’s not the stuff from my desk. Because if it is, that box is not big enough!”

Mitchell snorted. “I would drive you home myself if I saw you at the office in a few days. You have all the time you need. Paid. Don’t worry. Perks of scaring the sh— crap out of the CEO. And of course this isn’t your stuff, I would have to be some kind of asshole to clear out your desk and bring the contents to the hospital!”

“Thank you,” she said, her face serious. “I was worried I might not have a job anymore.”

Then she rushed to say: “Not that you have to talk about that with me. I’m sure that’s HR’s job.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Not have a job? I spent the past few days wondering if I was a horrible person for looking forward to when you’d be back at work instead of just being glad you were alive. I want to promote you, actually.”

She stared at him, then cleared her throat and said: “Really?”

“Yes. You were already a shoo-in for that position. The presentation was more for your benefit, so you’d know you could do it. But Mark says if I don’t promote you, he’ll never talk to me again, and that might be a problem since he’s my brother-in-law.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yep, he married my brother a few years ago.” He pulled everything out of the box. First, he showed her the thick handful of cards. “You have a lot of well wishes to open. And then after that, I’d like you to review the offer letter. Not right now, do it when I’m not here. Then you can reach out to HR. They said it can be signed electronically so you don’t have to come in to do it. I’m also supposed to tell you that you aren’t approved to come back until you’re medically cleared. But the job is waiting for you when you’re ready.”

“I want it,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “And I believe I’m... What did the doctor say? ‘Neurologically intact’ enough to do a good job. But I will look over the offer and make my decision.”

“Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t expect you to sign without reading the offer.”

She took the cards from him, her fingers brushing his. That same “I need a therapist” feeling washed over him. It’s some kind of trauma response, right? I just need time.

She had a beauty mark riding her upper lip, which he hadn’t noticed before. The mark swept to the side as she smiled.

“It’s awkward, isn’t it?” She reached over and put her hand on his arm. He realized suddenly that her father had stepped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, don’t, it’s normal. I feel like… Rather, I know that I will always look at you differently. Favorably differently. And I imagine seeing someone essentially dead and then knowing you saved them makes things feel very complicated, even if you weren’t their Ultimate Boss.” She squeezed his arm and then let him go. He missed her touch before he took his next breath. “It’s okay to not know how to feel.”

Mitchell nodded, finding that he couldn’t speak. She reached back out and said: “Give me a hug. A light one, I’m still sore. Just this once. HR doesn’t have to know.”

Her eyes were warm, and he could admit to himself that he needed to feel that she was okay. He needed something tactile to counteract his visceral memories.

So he hugged her, slipping his arms carefully around her lush frame, not wanting to crimp any tubing or cause her pain. She wrapped her arms around him, her hand cupping the back of his head. She didn’t smell like cinnamon anymore, and he let himself bury his face into her neck so he could feel the pulse of her heartbeat.

Next story in series: "Hostile Work Environment"

#resus writing #female resus #medical drama #cpr resus

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poisonedstar2000 · 29 days ago

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Christmas Cancer

Part 1

Warning! You might cry and I won't feel guilty😊. Also i'm not a medical professional I'm a bored writer so I doubt any of this is right.

It was February 25th when Coach Jenkins dragged Jay to the hospital. He wanted to get Jay checked out before any big games, really he just used that as an excuse to find out if anything was wrong with Jay.

It started small with losing his breath sooner, which was strange, Jay always stayed active and never stopped enough to lose fitness. Then Jay seemed confused in the middle of practices forgetting what he was doing, or why he was even there.

Coach finally dragged Jay to the hospital after seeing him faint in the locker room.

Multiple tests and prodding later, Coach drove Jay back to school and told him to get some rest. The results wouldn't be back for a week or so.

Jay scowled and went to his dorm. “Hey where were you?” Carlos asked as he glanced up from his video game. “Just out for a run” Jay lied seamlessly, no need to worry Carlos over something that probably isn't anything.

Later when Carlos was asleep Jay laid wide awake. What if Coach Jenkins was on to something and something was actually wrong with Jay. Jay pushed that thought back and tried to sleep, determined to believe it's nothing.

Jay wished it was nothing as he stared at the doctor, cancer, Heart Cancer. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Coach was silent beside him. Something like grief and pain in his eyes. Sadness.

The doctor said they couldn't do any surgery to remove the cancer, it's permanently there now. He had from 9-12 months to live.

It made Jay want to rage. He'd survived 16 years on the Isle, Auradons prejudiced thoughts and ideals, and now this. What the fuck did he do to deserve this!

Jay took a shuddering breath, feeling Coach Jenkins, and the doctor whoever his name was, eyes on him.

Jay clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he stared at the floor. The sterile scent of the hospital room seemed to choke him, the walls closing in like they wanted to suffocate him.

“Son…” Coach’s voice was cautious and soft, like he was afraid Jay might shatter into a million pieces. “We’ll figure this out kid.” he said. Jay could tell Coach didn’t believe his own words

Jay didn’t look up. His voice came out rough and low, barely audible. “There’s nothing to figure out, Coach. Nine months. Twelve if I’m lucky.” Jay replied

The doctor, still sitting at his desk, started to say something, probably a rehearsed line about counseling or treatment plans to manage symptoms, but Jay shot him a glare so sharp it could have cut steel. The man closed his mouth, looking uncomfortable. Jay faintly wondered if the man learned to block his emotions and start sounding rehearsed when it came to a kid dying.

“Can I go now?” Jay asked, his voice cracking despite his best efforts to sound indifferent. Did they hear that?

“Jay,” Coach began, but Jay was already standing, his legs trembling under him, as much as they tried to stop them. He didn’t wait for permission, he never cared for it, not when it came to his life. He walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

He didn’t go far, unfortunately, his legs were shaking too much to actually go far. He found a small waiting area down the hall, empty surprisingly. Jay sank into one of the more plush chairs, then burying his face in his hands. The world felt heavy, crushing, and so damn unfair. Because why the hell did he deserve this?

The faint sound of footsteps approached, and Jay didn’t have to look up to know it was Coach. The man sat down next to him without saying a word, just a silent, steady presence.

“I don’t want anyone to know,” Jay muttered after a long silence, he didn’t look up but his voice was hard. “Not Carlos, not Evie, not even Mal.” he told the man.

Coach hesitated. “They’ll notice eventually, Jay.” He said.

“Not if I don’t let them,” Jay said firmly, sitting up and rubbing his face. He refused to let himself cry, he never has before he won’t now. “I don’t want their pity. I don’t want them acting like I’m already gone.” Jay snapped. It would break them.

“Kid…” Coach sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’ve always done things alone,” Jay snapped, the bitterness in his voice surprising even himself. “Why should this be any different?”

Coach didn’t reply right away. He just looked at Jay, his expression a mixture of worry and something Jay couldn’t quite place. Maybe pride? Jay didn’t know, and he didn’t care to ask.

“I’ll respect your decision,” Coach said finally, though his tone was reluctant. “But promise me one thing.”

Jay frowned. “What?”

“When it gets too much, because it will, you come to me. I don’t care what time it is or what’s going on. You don’t have to carry this alone, Jay.”

For a moment, Jay wanted to argue. He wanted to push Coach away and pretend he didn’t need anyone. But the exhaustion was already seeping into his bones, and the thought of someone, anyone, being there when it got too hard was oddly comforting.

“Fine,” he muttered, looking away. “But I’m not telling anyone else.”

Coach nodded, accepting the compromise for now.

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of the diagnosis hanging between them like a storm cloud. Jay stared at the ground. He’d survived worse, right? He’d figure this out. Somehow. He remembered the doctor saying that people rarely survived heart cancer, especially since he seemed to have had it for a while without realizing it.

The drive back to Auradon Prep was quiet. Coach Jenkins gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, but he didn’t say a word. Jay sat stiffly in the passenger seat, staring out the window but not actually seeing anything. His mind was a chaotic storm of anger, disbelief, and a suffocating sense of dread.

Every damn time he tried to think of something else, the doctor’s words echoed in his mind. Nine to twelve months.

The sun was setting by the time they pulled into the school parking lot. The setting sun casting long shadows across the campus. Coach put the car in park but didn’t immediately turn off the engine.

“You sure you don’t want me to-” he started.

“I’m fine,” Jay cut him off sharply, his voice like a knife. He didn’t even look at Coach as he opened the door and stepped out. “Thanks Coach.” Jay said.

Coach hesitated, looking like he wanted to argue, but he seemed to think better of it. “You know where to find me,” he said instead, his voice softer now. “Anytime, son.” How will Coach take his death when it actually happens?

Jay didn’t respond. He just slammed the door shut and walked away, his bag slung over one shoulder. His steps were heavy, each step a deliberate effort to keep moving forward.

When he reached his dorm, the familiar sounds of Carlos’ video game buzzed through the door. Jay took a deep breath, schooling his expression into something more neutral and relaxed. Something normal. He pushed the door open and he stepped inside like nothing had changed.

Carlos glanced up from his spot on the couch, a grin spreading across his face. “Hey! Where’ve you been? Thought you were gonna help me test this new game.” Carlos said. He came out of his shell a lot by now, Jay hoped that doesn’t change after he dies

“Got caught up,” Jay said casually, dropping his bag near the door. He grabbed a water bottle from his desk and took a long drink, trying to steady his shaking hands. “Went for a walk to clear my head.” Jay replied. He always had shaky hands from being a kleptomaniac and fighting the urge to steal, Carlos won’t question that.

“Man, you and your walks,” Carlos teased, his attention already drifting back to the screen. “Should’ve stayed. You missed me destroying Chad in a multiplayer match. Guy rage-quit after two rounds, I heard him screaming like a girl over the headphones.” Carlos said.

Jay forced a chuckle. “Guess I’ll catch the next one.”

Carlos didn’t notice the edge in his voice, too engrossed in his game. That was good. Jay didn’t want to deal with questions, concerns, or worse. Sympathy.

As the evening dragged on, Jay stayed in the background, nodding along to Carlos’ commentary about his game but not really listening. His mind was elsewhere, spiraling.

When Carlos finally called it a night and climbed into bed, Jay sat on his own, staring at the dark ceiling. The silence in the room was deafening. Every second stretched endlessly, giving his thoughts too much space to roam.

Heart cancer. Nine to twelve months.

He clenched his fists, the words looping in his head like a broken record. How was this fair? He’d survived sixteen brutal years on the Isle of the Lost, dodging hunger, danger, and betrayal. He’d fought tooth and nail for a chance at a better life in Auradon, enduring their prejudices and proving he belonged. And now this? What kind of twisted joke was the universe playing on him?

Jay squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts. But they wouldn’t stop. The helplessness, the anger, and the fear.

It all surged inside him, threatening to consume him. He wanted to punch something, scream at the top of his lungs, break the world apart just to make it hurt as much as he did.

Instead, he lay there, silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. It’s nothing, he told himself over and over again. It’s nothing until it’s everything, how long until they find out?.

Eventually, exhaustion won out, and Jay drifted into a restless sleep. But even then, a heavy shadow pressed down on him.

A month later Jay sucked it up and got over dwelling. As much as he could, until now. It was past 2 in the morning and Jay was in the bathroom, blood dripping down his chin. His throat burned. He eyed his phone before ultimately grabbing it and clicking the call button.

“Coach,” he croaked, wincing at how bad he sounded. “Kid, are you alright, what's going on?” Coach answered. “I uh, I ran out of the pills he gave me and I keep coughing blood.” He said. “Alright, I’ll get another bottle at the pharmacy, I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” Coach said.

Jay sat on the cold tile floor of the dorm bathroom, his back against the wall as he tried to catch his breath. His hand trembled as he wiped at his chin with a crumpled tissue, but it did little to stem the slow trickle of blood. The metallic taste clung to his tongue, it made his stomach churn.

The minutes passed by, each one feeling like an eternity. Jay closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall and focusing on his breathing. In and out.. But every time he exhaled, it felt like shards of glass were scraping at his throat.

A faint knock at the dorm door jolted him upright, and for a moment he forgot where he was. He shook his head and forced himself to stand, using the wall for support. Carlos was still sound asleep in the next room, and Jay wasn’t about to wake him. He got to the door, unlocking it with shaky hands.

Coach Jenkins stood on the other side, a small paper bag in one hand and a look of barely concealed panic in his eyes. He stepped inside without a word, closing the door behind him. His gaze swept over Jay, taking in his hunched posture, his bloodstained chin, and the hollow look in his eyes.

“Jesus, kid,” Coach muttered, setting the bag down on the desk. He reached out, gripping Jay’s shoulder gently but firmly. “Let’s sit you down.”

Jay didn’t argue. He let Coach guide him back to his bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress, he was tired. Coach knelt in front of him, going through the bag before pulling out a bottle of pills and a bottle of water.

Jay took them and opened the bottle, taking 2 and swallowing the pills with a wince. The water felt like fire, but he forced it down. Anything to make the coughing stop.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of their breathing. Coach sat back on his heels, studying Jay with a mix of concern and frustration.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were running low?” Coach finally asked, his tone sharper than usual. “You can’t let it get this bad, Jay.”

Jay avoided his gaze, staring at his hands instead. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” Coach’s voice rose slightly, then softened as he ran a hand over his face. “Kid, you’re not a bother. This isn’t something you can just tough out. You’ve got to let me help you.”

Jay shrugged, his throat too raw to argue. He hated feeling weak, and hated needing help. But as much as he tried to fight it, he couldn’t do this alone.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Coach sighed, standing up and pulling a chair closer to sit across from Jay. “Look, I get it. You’re used to handling things on your own. But this-” he gestured vaguely, his expression pained “this isn’t something you can just push through. You’ve got to let me in, Jay. At least let me make sure you’re not coughing yourself to death in the middle of the night.” Chach said

Jay managed a weak laugh, though it quickly turned into a cough. He pressed a hand to his chest, grimacing.

Coach leaned forward, his voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone in this, okay? I know you don’t want to tell your friends, and I’ll respect that for now. But you’ve got to meet me halfway here.” Coach said.

Jay nodded, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. “Okay,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” Coach gave him a small, encouraging smile. “Now, you need to rest. I’ll stay here tonight, just in case.”

“You don’t have to-” Jay started to protest

“Not up for debate,” Coach cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jay didn’t have the energy to fight him. “Just make sure you're gone before Carlos wakes up,” Jay said, Coach nodded. “1 more thing, actually” Jay said looking at Coach. “What's that?” Jenkins asked.

Jay gave a small smile, “I thought you were bald,” he said with an actual small laugh. Coach Jenkins wasn’t wearing his hat for once. He wasn’t bald but he had one hell of a receding hairline.

“Oh go to sleep kid.” Coach snapped. Jay snickered again but curled up in bed.

3 and a half months had passed since the diagnosis, and with each passing day, the reality of Jay’s situation hit harder. The energy he once had, fueled by a mix of ambition, passion, and the sheer need to prove himself had been steadily draining.

The doctor’s warning was clear: No more sports.

Jay was pissed.

He had tried to argue, tried to push back, but the doctor had been firm. The cancer in his heart had already taken enough from him. Any intense physical activity, any competition, could risk his health in ways even the doctor couldn’t predict.

Dangerous was the word used.

It wasn’t just the physical toll that was the hardest part, it was the loss of freedom. Playing sports had been Jay’s release in Auradon, his escape, his way to prove that no matter where he came from, no matter the odds stacked against him, he was still worth something. The thrill of it had been one of the only things that made him feel alive. And now, that had been ripped away from him.

It wasn’t just about Tourney, either. It was being part of something again, about being part of a team and feeling that rush of adrenaline when things got close to the end. That connection with his teammates, that was what kept him going. Now, he was left watching from the sidelines.

It was even harder to keep lying to the people. Mal, Evie, Carlos. They all noticed that something was different. Jay had always been someone who wore his emotions on his sleeve when it came to Tourney. They might not have cared as much about the sport as he did, but they knew him well enough to see the change.

The lies were getting harder to maintain.

Carlos was the first to press him on it. One day, after weeks of half-formed excuses and shrugged-off questions, Carlos cornered him in their dorm room.

“Hey, Jay,” Carlos started, his voice casual but his eyes sharp. “You’re not playing anymore, are you? What’s going on?”

Jay froze, caught off guard. He had been hoping to keep up the facade for just a little longer. “It’s nothing,” Jay muttered, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, pretending to be busy. “Just not feeling it anymore, that’s all.”

Carlos crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “That’s not it, Jay. I know you. You love playing Tourney too much to just… give it up.”

Jay opened his mouth, ready to deflect, but the words stuck in his throat. The lie felt heavy, like it was going to suffocate him. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just... don’t feel the same thrill as before, Carlos.” He lied.

Carlos blinked, his expression shifting. He stepped forward, lowering his voice. “Why? What’s going on?” Carlos pressed, his eyes narrowed in a way that reminded Jay of watching Carlos try to solve a particularly hard problem.

Jay wanted to scream. What do I tell you? That I have a few months to live? That my heart is falling apart and there's nothing I can do about it? He wanted to say it, wanted to throw it all out there and just let them know, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t, not when he knew how much it could hurt them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay said, the words coming out more forcefully than he intended. “I just don’t feel like it anymore.” He lied.

Carlos hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “Okay,” he finally conceded.

Carlos didn’t press further, though Jay could see the concern lingering in his eyes as he turned back to the door. “I just don’t get it, man. You’ve been avoiding everyone. It’s not like you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just how it is right now,” Jay snapped, before he could stop himself. A flash of hurt passed in Carlos’ eyes before it was gone, replaced by the same worry as before.

Carlos looked like he wanted to say something else, but he seemed to think better of it, just giving Jay a long look before leaving the room.

The silence that followed was unbearable. Six to Nine months left.

A few days later, Mal and Evie cornered him together.

“You've been avoiding us,” Mal said, her arms crossed, voice accusatory. “We know something's up. You haven't been to Tourney, you don’t want to talk about anything, what’s going on?”

Jay’s heart pounded in his chest. How was he supposed to lie to Mal? The words were right there, hovering on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. Not like this.

“I just... don’t feel the same thrill as before from Tourney, okay?” Jay told the same lie he told Carlos, pushing past them and heading for the door. “I’m fine.”

But Mal caught his arm before he could escape, her grip firm and unyielding. "Jay," she said softly, softer than anything Jays ever heard from her before. “We’re your friends. You can tell us.”

Jay looked down at her hand on his arm, and for a moment, he felt his resolve begin to crack. He wanted to scream it out, to tell them the truth, to let the tears he had been holding back finally spill over. But instead, he yanked his arm away and shook his head.

“I’m fine, Mal,” he repeated, his voice rough. “Just leave me alone.”

Evie and Mal exchanged a look, but they didn’t push him further. They knew when Jay needed space. But it didn’t stop the concern from showing in their eyes.

Jay walked away, heading to the one place he felt he could be alone, his room. But even there, the weight of everything pressing down on him made it hard to breathe.

Two and a half months since the diagnosis, and he was slowly falling apart. The things he loved, the things that gave him meaning, were being stripped away piece by piece, and the lies he told to protect everyone else were suffocating him. Six to Nine months left.

End of part 1, there will be 3 parts. If you cried for this, oops. listen I've been asked if the devil himself wrote this on another story I posted and I can tell you this one is much worse.

Merry Christmas!

#jay son of jafar #jay descendants #descendants #disney descendants #Jay has cancer #Coach jenkins is like Jays dad #christmas oneshot #a sad one though #don't kill me pls #Coach is surprisingly not bald but if you look up his actor in 2015 #the hairline is bad #thats all im going to say

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wordingg · 1 year ago

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Solitary Confinement

Summary: Tim Drake is kidnapped by the mysterious Mr. Oz and held by him in a small cell. Everyone assumes he's dead and nobody is looking for him, and it seems like his captors abilities are impossible to predict or think his way around.

A retelling of the events of Rise of the Batmen from Tim's perspective after his kidnapping.

Whumptober Fill. Day 3. Prompt: Solitary Confinement.

The room was small with one transparent wall looking out into an empty featureless hallway. Tim paced it out, ten spaces deep, seven paces across. Just enough room to lay down flat on his back and spread out a little.

The only marking was a circular indentation on the floor with strange markings around the inside circle. A little experimentation showed him that holding his finger against one of the markings would summon something into the circle. The first marking summoned a gray, greasy block that, after some investigation, Tim found was an especially distasteful ration bar. The next symbol summoned a long, deep hole in the floor barely wide enough for Tim to fit his hand into. He did fit his hand into it, shoving so hard and desperately looking for any seam or chance to break the pipe, that he nearly broke his hand. After giving up, Tim determined that must be what he would have to use as a toilet for the foreseeable future. The last symbol summoned water from the ceiling and a small drain holes in the center of the circle. A shower and a way to drink water.

That was it. Those were the only amenities in his cell. Just enough to barely keep him alive.

Tim shouted himself mute for the first few days.

He started off screaming in rage. He pulled out every possible insult and cuss word that his frankly impressive lexicon could conjure up, but the mysterious hooded man that had left him in that cell either didn't care or wasn't listening. Probably the latter. If Tim knew villains, he knew they couldn't resist looming over a conquered enemy. But, this man was setting himself apart from the pack.

When insults didn't work, Tim tried to reason with him. Why save him from certain death just to chuck him into a cell? Obviously the mysterious man believed he would have some use, but not just yet. Maybe he thought it was safer to keep him here in this tidy box, where he couldn't get into the kind of trouble that ended with hundreds of military grade drones aiming at him. Either way, Tim hoped that if he acted confused enough, maybe the man would come and explain it to him, and he could work on something from there. But, he never came.

By the time that Tim's voice was starting to give out, he had come to begging.

"Solitary confinement has a deleterious effect on humans," Tim croaked through a voice that was on its last legs. He leaned his head tiredly against the transparent field separating his cell from the hallway beyond. "Many people forced into solitary confinement experience panic attacks, depression and paranoia, and some suffer hallucinations even after being released."

He got nothing back. The only sound in response was Tim's breathing.

"If you want me in one piece later, you can't leave me in here alone," shouted Tim, one last desperate attempt. But, his voice cracked halfway through the sentence and despite his attempts to rest his voice, it never got back to the same volume.

His voice was gone.

"I can't do this," he whispered, the most he could do without hurting his throat.

After all attempts at communication failed, Tim determined that if he was going to escape, he would have to do it himself. Batman and the others would hopefully be searching for him, but he couldn't hang all his hopes on that. He had been just about to die before being transported to this cell. It wouldn't have been out of the question for Bruce to assume that the force of all those laser weapons shooting him at once might have been enough to vaporize him entirely. And, if not, the hooded man might have planted false evidence to convince them he was dead and not in need of rescuing. It had certainly happened before, though with Bruce that time.

Tim had a lot of technology powering his suit, probably even more than Bruce carried in his. And, there was some kind of scanning panel to the right of the transparent field holding him inside his cell. He suspected that he was being held on an alien ship of some kind, but he had to hope that their technology was compatible enough that he would be able to hack through the scanner if he could successfully take it apart and interface with it somehow.

He lost track of time while he was working on his escape. The clock on the OS of his suit had kept running, even once he lost all connection to the outside world. So, he could use the GUI on his bracer to check the time prior to his hacking project. But, the clock didn’t survive his cannibalizing of his suit to hack the sensor.

After almost completely dismantling the circuitry in his suit, he didn’t have a functioning screen to check anymore. He had resourced so much from his suit that even the CMOS battery had to go and with it all unbiased track of time.

But finally, after what felt like over a week of painstakingly twisting together tiny wires and welding microscopic copper lines to tiny jumpers and chips with a shorting taser, he held his makeshift panel interface up to the black glass panel for the umpteenth time and this time it flashed light blue with a little chirp and the transparent barrier collapsed back into the floor with a soft sigh.

Tim's cry of relief was not dignified, but he couldn't have possibly cared less. He leaped to his feet and ran out into the hallway for the first time.

He had barely allowed himself to think of next steps, the taste of freedom too sweet and the disappointment of each failed test too great. But, he had at least a rough idea of what he needed to do. If he was on an alien spaceship, then his only option was to run and fast. He would look for either an escape pod so that he would get the fuck out of dodge, an engine room to sabotage the ship so the hooded man was too busy trying not to blow up to come after Tim, or the bridge itself, so that he could confront the hooded man on his own terms. But, he was hoping for the engine room. That would give him the best odds of survival, let alone escape.

Tim ran as fast as his cramped legs could manage, his lungs already heaving with the effort after being contained for so long. He looked for symbols or signs or even marks of use or wear, but the hallways were completely featureless. There were doors along the walls with similar panels beside them, and many times the hallways split, but Tim didn't stop running. He just kept going down the biggest hallways he could, desperate for the feeling of space after spending so long in the tiny cell.

Which led him smack into a huge room filled with screens, the hooded man turning as Tim blasted into the room full speed.

Tim skidded to a halt and turned to look up at the screens, his chest heaving. Everywhere along the big curved walls were images of his world. Video of tornadoes and tsunamis, of war and murder, of chain link fences topped with barbed wire and children with emaciated bodies and sunken cheeks. Among them, mixed in with images of all the depravity of humanity, were the bats. Batman and Orphan and Batwoman and Azrael and Batwing and even Clayface all in combat or on the alert for it.

"Resourceful, aren't you?" the hooded man said, and Tim snapped back to him, his heart beating rabbit fast in his chest. The man's face was still completely enveloped in shadow, the multicolor light of the images behind him making him an ominous black figure.

"You can't keep me here!" Tim shot back with a show of confidence he didn't feel at all. Absolute terror was biting at his heels at the sight of the man who had tossed him in a cell and left him there, and whose capabilities he had basically no knowledge of.

"You are a dangerous man, Tim Drake," said the hooded man and raised his staff slightly off the ground and tapped it on the ground hard, the sound inordinately loud in the silent room.

Nothing happened, but he raised his staff again, and Tim's brain finally snapped back to action. That tapping did something, he was sure of it, and he was sure he didn't want to see what it would do once the man was done tapping.

"No!" Tim lunged at the man, meaning to take him to the ground in a football tackle, but the room dissolved in the blink of an eye.

With a crash, Tim landed back in the cell, running painfully into the force field that was again sealing him inside.

Tim scrambled to his feet, his head and shoulder aching where he had run into the transparent wall. He crawled to the jumble of electronics on the floor and jerked away with a hiss after picking up one of the bigger pieces. It was smoking. In fact, all of it was smoking, black singe marks left on the ground where they had been sitting.

That must have been what the first tap was. He had fried all the electronics in Tim's cell, the cobbled together interface that Tim had stupidly left behind when he made a run for it.

An animal sound of pain was coming out of Tim's throat, but he couldn't control it and didn't bother to try. Nobody was listening, not even the hooded man.

Tim curled over the burning hot tech still clutched in his hand and cried, tears welling up behind his mask, loosening the glue holding his domino on until they could drip down his cheeks and off his chin.

That was it. He had lost his chance to escape. He didn't have enough bits left in his suit to make another interface. The only chance he had was Bruce, and it had been over a week already. It was possible they weren't even looking for him.

Tim collapsed on his side, and the sounds of agony pouring from his already damaged throat got louder. He was helpless, a boy in a box, until his mysterious captor decided to take him out.

He was stuck. And, he was going to go mad in that stupid box, completely alone. There was no hope left.

#whumptober2023 #solitary confinement #batman #detective comics #tim drake #red robin #fanfiction #kidnapping #imprisonment #kittywrites #no.3 #dcu comics

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ratasum · 1 year ago

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Nothing spoilery. Just some cute conversation with Leyya and @wall-legion's Odetta that's rattling around in my head.

"What do you mean your mother had seven partners?"

Leyya couldn't help but bark out a laugh at Odetta's incredulous tone, offering a weary smile as she glanced up at her younger friend. "You never hung out with many asura outside of Vezz and Rissia, huh?"

The girl's brow furrowed at that response, leaning forward with her arms folded on the table. "Well, no, but... is that common?"

"Serial monogamy. Asura traditionally bounce from partner to partner like they bounce from idea to idea." Humming softly, Leyya picked up a fork, leaning back in her chair. "They'll bond over a project, have a whirlwind romance that can last a few years, and then... end it. There's usually formal legal contracts. Polygamy's common. My parents weren't into it. I've got a dozen siblings on either side from their contracts over the years."

Odetta seemed to ponder that for a moment before her voice softened, fingers curling into the tablecloth. "...does your family know where you are?"

The question gave Leyya pause, and her eyes darted down towards the food laid out between them. "...no. When I- after I let Cepir into my head, I basically just started wandering Tyria. It tried to drive me back to Rata Sum, of course. To my parents, my stepparents, my siblings... to Zojja. But I couldn't face them"

"...do you think you'd ever want to?"

Slowly, Leyya shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. It's still so hard with this damn thing in my head."

Odetta fell silent at that, picking at the tablecloth with her nails for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "...so anyway... if asura practice serial monogamy... and just kind of, y'know, flash in the pan I guess? I mean... I guess I'm just wondering..."

"Why Zojja and I stayed close for so long?" She didn't wait for a nod to confirm. "Not all asura do it. It's common enough to be the norm, but it's also not everybody. That being said, I think Zee once put it that... people were different than projects. She wanted someone who would see past that big brain of hers to the person she was behind it. Driven and passionate and clever. All those things, not just the genius prodigy. Probably why she took to Qirri and Taimi like she did. She wanted to be loved. Not just admired."

Smiling a little, Odetta sat back, adjusting the plate in front of her. "And you?"

Leyya just laughed. "She and I have known each other since we were progeny. I think I've always been enamored with her. Didn't become... bigger than that until we were in college, and it just kind of exploded when she was looking for some kind of solid ground after Snaff died. And to be honest? Neither of us were ever very good at being "proper" asura." For a moment, she looked away, towards the kitchen where Sheridan was finishing up dinner. "...what about you? Anyone important like that?"

"Wh- no, not at all! I don't... I don't know if there ever will be. I have a lot of baggage, you know."

"Zojja was an orphan taken in and mentored by one of the greatest geniuses in a generation that could never quite find her footing, and I'm the square peg trying to fit into the round hole of a constantly shifting family where I never quite fit in. We found each other before. I'm sure you can find someone too. You're a perfectly attractive young woman, and believe me, I've seen more than a few young folks out in the city eyeing you. Maybe a nice sea captain, or that nice young norn girl that helps in the tavern..."

Odetta spluttered for a moment, and for a brief moment, the grin on Leyya's face was geniune. She even laughed when Odetta threw the cloth napkin by her hand at her face. "You stop grinning like that! Ooh, you're a pest, you know that?!"

As Leyya's laughter rang through the room, Odetta's flustered scolding mixed throughout, Sheridan paused at the door, peering through the crack as they held it open with one hand, dishes piled in the other three. Maybe they would give them a few more minutes... after all, all of them needed some levity.

Whether they knew it or not.

#gw2 fanfic #infiltrator leyya #odetta swanheart #bunny writing

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jodilin65 · 32 years ago

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WEDNESDAY, MARCH 31, 1993 I just had an awesome idea and believe me, I’ll be one pissed puppy if it doesn’t work. Well, I’ve been wanting very much to type in my journals here and there. Of course, I cannot fit the book into the roller, so I thought maybe I’d cut some pages out, then staple them, then glue or tape them back in, but that may be hard to do. Maybe what I could do instead, is type on other paper, cut to the size of the pages in here, then glue those in. Why not? It’d be something different for a change and that can’t hurt. I’ve highlighted the entry dates of the first 20 journals. I also have a lot to tell, so I’ll go cut paper and begin typing some stuff.

Later…

I’m not gonna type too much after all cuz I’m getting very tired. Will I sleep? I don’t know, but today I sure didn’t sleep much. Those fucking lawnmowers! How nice it is to know that that’s my last morning having to listen to that shit.

To pick up in order from where I left off, well, I was sure to knock on the door a few times here and there for the bitch next door. This is last night.

When I got up yesterday I called food stamps and told them of my new address. They’re gonna send some stuff in the mail. I still need to call SS and some of my friends to let them have my new phone number. The 863 prefix is the same one Bob had in Turners Falls. I tried to get the last 4 digits to be 1994, but I was told that if she had it, it’d be considered a custom number and that there’d be a charge for it, so I forgot about it. I know good things are going to happen in ’94.

I called to let Tammy know my new address and number and Bill answered. He was all giggly and happy about who knows what, then he jokingly calls out, “Hey Tammy, the stripper’s on!”

I got this kit in the mail under a phony name. It’s got lots of colored photos and all kinds of animals and stories about them. I also got a Passover card in the mail from Mom and Dad.

I went over at one point to pick up Andy’s laundry and he was on the phone long distance. I was a bit annoyed cuz he said he had it ready, so I slammed my way out of his place and back into mine. Next door oughta have loved that as I knew she was in bed and her lights were off and her truck was outside.

The next minute my phone rang and I expected it to be Andy. I said, “What! I thought you were gonna stick it in the door and I’d just quickly come in and grab it and then you could go back to your phone call.”

It was Dad saying something about sticking something somewhere. I was cracking up cuz I wasn’t expecting a call from him. I did leave them a message, but they’re not usually up at 12:30 (their time). I talked to both of them, and yes, Ma acted like the fight we had over the phone never happened. I gave them the number and address.

After that, I went over to get his laundry and I made really sure to slam my way in and out of here.

Andy was up later than he thought he’d be and he called me with a great idea. An apartment complex has a maintenance number to call where you punch in your number, so I punched in Andi’s. I also knocked really loud and clear at 1:30. Even Andy could hear that real well. He could hear it through the walls as well as through the phone.

Scott stopped up earlier but only for a second. He was in the truck that’s gonna move me which is a huge pickup. One of his employees was driving and he’ll be helping with the move. I’ll probably be moving this weekend.

I had a nice, yet strange conversation with Keri today at Crystal Creek, but I’ll write about it another time.

My folks didn’t have too many questions about the new apartment, as happy as I know they are for me. It sounds like Tammy told them about it. I left a message saying it was a 900-square-foot, 2-bedroom/1-bath but they never asked me how much the rent was.

I’m gonna listen to music now and try my damnedest to fall asleep. I’ll expand on other little things some other time.

TUESDAY, MARCH 30, 1993 The lawnmowers never came today, but sure enough, it was made up for. At 11:30, I was woken up (I went to bed at 5:30) by banging below me. I was thinking Stacey or someone else with her went into Dave’s place knowing he wasn’t home to bang his bedroom ceiling under my bed. I’m not sure if this was the case, but like they have one problem after another, a main pipe broke today. We had no water for about 10 hours. Tomorrow will be the lawnmowers and if the next day isn’t the parking lot sweepers, it’ll be something else.

I have great news about the apartment, but I’ll write about it later.

Later…

God, I wish this cold would quit and give it up!

Right after I was kindly woken up, I paged Scott who called right back. He told me he found out I owed money on a $66 electric bill in MA. I never knew I had an outstanding bill with the electric company in MA, so obviously it was a fuck-up, thanks to fuel assistance.

I spoke with a really nice girl named Keri at the office who so kindly broke the rules to give me the information I needed. She said don’t tell anyone cuz her manager would be upset. I’m going to write a check to the electric company and give it to Keri who’s gonna mail it off for me. She’ll photocopy the check for proof that I’ve cleared it up. I get a feeling that the girls in this office will all be as nice as Paula and Judy. I hope so.

I will be moving Thursday, Friday or Saturday and I called SRP and APS. APS is the electric company there and I must bring them a deposit of $117. Scott’s helping me financially with the first month and I’ll type for him.

Tomorrow I must call the phone company, as well as food stamps and SS. I already filled out a change of address form. My mail will go over there this Saturday. He has a truck and people to help me move.

MONDAY, MARCH 29, 1993 Naturally, I’m wide awake and probably will be for hours to come. Maybe it’ll be a little peaceful around here tomorrow as far as the lawnmowers are concerned. It’s raining. If I move on the 1st, I hope it rains all the way through till when I get over there. Keeps the lawnmowers away, as well as the parking lot sweepers which are due to return any day.

Everyone’s vibes are different. Andy feels me staying till my lease is up (although that’s what he’d want). Kara says the second week of April. John says April 1st with a slight possibility of April 2nd. I don’t know what to feel, but put it this way - do I feel myself being here in May? No, thank fucking God.

I called John earlier and we chatted a bit. Tomorrow he’ll call Stacey.

I also called Nervous to play a little detective for me. This is gonna sound funny but it’s been picking at me for some time now. When I was living on Oswego St. in 1987 or 1988, Tammy “slipped” and told me a little secret. My sister’s 35 and I’m 27 and so she says that after she was born and before I was born, mom had a miscarriage. My question is, why is it such a big secret? Why the cover-up? Lots of women have miscarriages. I questioned mom about it and she flat-out refused to discuss it. She pulled her “easy way out” line telling me she never looks back on her past. This is why she stayed screwed up year after year. Cuz she never had the guts to admit, face, and deal with her past to help deal with the future. My mother’s a rather weak individual, I’m sorry to say.

A number of things went through my mind. It could be a number of things. Lots of things back then were covered up and hidden. Today more things are exposed and talked about. Stuff like rape, child abuse (emotional, physical and sexual), domestic abuse, adultery and divorce. The woman could’ve been raped. She could’ve had an affair even though I’m 99.9% sure neither one of them ever did. But people are learning, including myself, never to be so sure and take anything for granted. Even those you least expect to do whatever can surprise you.

I remember my sister-in-law Sandy. She was 8 months pregnant and got in a car accident. It was stillborn, but under the Jewish laws (I guess) it was “old enough” to be named and buried. I think it was Sarah Ann. Could something like this have happened to my mom? It could all mean nothing, but my gut tells me to check it out anyway. Nervous is gonna check the gravesite.

SUNDAY, MARCH 28, 1993 What in the world happened to Scott!? Early this afternoon we were supposed to pay a lovely visit to the credit company. After only 4 hours of sleep, I paged him at noon and I’ve never heard from him all damn day. The guy must’ve been super busy. I hope nothing’s wrong.

I am so tired, but just too restless to sleep. I need to sleep badly, too.

Kara was cracking up when I told her about my going off on Andi for 3 hours. I only heard her at 9:30 tonight for about 10 minutes. She’d better be really fucking quiet tomorrow.

I want to hurry up and get this move over with. My only fear is finding some sort of nasty surprise there, but Scott’s been there long enough, so if he says it’s quiet, it’s quiet. It’s just that noise seems to go where I go.

I’m definitely gonna ignore my neighbors, but I’d like to maybe know who’s below me and next to me. Scott has two apartments next to him on both sides of him. I have only 1 apartment next to me. They’re between Scott and me.

John’s gonna call Stacey Mon., but it’s obvious she doesn’t want a subleaser in here. She cares more that I stay than for John to move in and pay a little over $300, whereas I pay $277. Hey, it’s her loss, not mine.

Later…

I am now in one hell of a foul mood. I’m tired of this fucking waiting game. There have been too many places I’ve been psyched to leave and had to play the fucking waiting game. I should just stop waiting and stop trying to get out of here. If I’m not moved by the 1st I’ll go get my $70 and look for a place that does no credit check.

And also, if I don’t get to L.A. by May, I’m not going at all.

Scott called today from the airport. He flew in with some attorneys for a meeting once again with the IRS. I know this guy is busy, but I can’t handle the stress of waiting and hoping. I’m just gonna have to be here for a while and deal with the bitch next door. She was quiet yesterday, but today the butch had 7 people over from 1:30-5:30. These two kids were slamming her door and screaming outside, throwing rocks. At one point I went down to Mary’s as she was taking me to the store. I slammed her door 4 times cuz we’re both so fucking fed up with her. When we returned I called Mary a little later. She said Andi went down and said to Mary, “I hope you weren’t slamming the door in regards to me. I have nothing against you. I don’t care about the one next door, but I hope we don’t have any problems.”

Mary told her the truth; that she was fed up with the slamming and the banging. Mary was trying to study.

She said Andi said, “Yeah, I understand that but I already told the kids about the door.”

Yeah, well the “one next door” has a hell of a treatment in store for her, but I’ll write about it later. If I’m stuck here, she’s gonna have to shut the fuck up and stay that way. I even called the cops, especially cuz I wanted a police report, but they split right after I called. So, I called 911 back and told them to cancel.

Why doesn’t this bitch just go on vacation? She told me she was gonna for many weeks when I first moved in here, so what happened? I wish she’d either go on vacation or get stuck in the hospital for a while. A broken bone may do that, and I’ve got one plan. Anyone who knows that for me to resort to such an extreme, I’ve gotta be pissed! I’ve had enough! She’s gonna be mincemeat!!

SATURDAY, MARCH 27, 1993 At 11:00 I fell asleep and I awoke at 1:00. I’m coughing and congested, so I took that raunchy-tasting cough syrup. It’s made me very drowsy so hopefully, I’ll fall back asleep soon. I’m very tired and I’m gonna need my sleep with the way weekends are so noisy here.

I just spoke to John and he called the office today asking for Stacey. Judy said she wasn’t there. He’ll call back tomorrow to speak to Judy or Paula, but I don’t think John’s gonna live here. That may be for the better, though.

John’s birthday is April 2nd and I want to get or make him a card. He really is a good friend and I’m glad I met him.

Not the Friday that just went by but Friday last week, I went to Scott’s complex in the early afternoon. I brought my work stuff with me. I filled out an application at the office and that’s when I was shown the apartment I put down $70 to hold it. One problem, though. When she ran my credit check she said I owe someone money. By law, even though it’s my credit report, she couldn’t say who it was or how much. She did say it was one thing and nothing drastic. She gave me the name of Credit Data Southwest to get it cleared up, as the girl who applied for the same apartment wasn’t likely to get it. She said things don’t look too good for this girl.

I have no idea what it is, but I have a few theories. It could be stuff I’ve ordered through the mail, which Scott says they can’t prove. It could also be from when I was in the ER in Norwich. They always screw up their billing and of course, I have Medicaid and Medicare. Two days ago Scott and I drove around looking for the place, but by the time we found it, it was closed. Tomorrow afternoon we’re gonna go to this place and I sure as hell hope it can be cleared up quickly cuz as of today, my apartment is ready. I must transfer my phone, electricity, food stamps and call good old SS. Gotta call my bank, too.

So, the day I saw the apartment, Scott took me to work and picked me up. I was gonna stay overnight there to see how quiet it is, but I couldn’t breathe. His roommate and his girlfriend were asleep, but I could smell the stench of mold coming from their room. There’d been a leak in the ceiling in there which had molded and it was to be taken care of the next day. Plus, these people are slobs and he’s finally kicking them out. Lastly, I can’t handle being around more than one cat.

So, during the two hours I was there, we ate hot dogs and he showed me his stamp collection and his drawings. Then, he drove me home.

His cat is a female that’s gray. My cat’s all black. A male cat and he’s gonna get it neutered and declawed. His cat’s spayed and declawed. My cat (Mystery) is very lovable and friendly. I miss having a cat. God answered my prayers on that one. While I’m asleep he can stay in the spare bedroom.

Scott repairs government homes that people lost due to drug busts or cuz they weren’t making their mortgage payments. This is why he can get lots of furniture for free. I sure do miss my soft full-wave waterbed and he says every 1 out of 4 homes has one. That’ll be great and I’ll put this twin bed in the spare bedroom. Meanwhile, he gave me a beanbag (he had 3). He’s also gonna put a ceiling fan in my bedroom.

Later…

I am extremely exhausted. Scott never called and I tried paging him, too.

Kara came over for the first time in a month. She made us coffee and we listened to some tapes. She brought cigarettes, too. She also killed a spider and checked and Windexed my kitchen window. I have not had the guts to open it since I found that huge spider. There was a hole in the screen that she taped.

I had a very nice chat with my niece Lisa, too.

FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1993 Well, I guess John must have gotten busy at work at Circle K. He hasn’t called back yet. He works part-time at Circle K which is like a 7/11 convenience store. He also drives the cab part-time. He’s gonna call the office tomorrow and ask Stacey why she lied to me about his coming in to take my apartment Knowing her, she’ll be like, “Oh, I recognize you and we did speak as I now recall. Your application was accidentally misplaced.”

Believe it or not, I’m sort of developing a crush on Stacey. She’s getting awfully fun to play with. And go off on. Especially when I know I can get away with it. She gets a kick out of it and about 4 nights ago I came up with a great idea. I said to myself, “OK, Stacey. You wanna play? I can play and bullshit right back.”

At 2:30 in the morning last Monday or Tuesday, I called the office knowing I’d get the machine. This is what I said: “Hi, this is Jodi and this message is for Stacey. Thank you so much for the stuff you left outside my door. I just got home and discovered it. I was shocked, but that was very nice of you as I just ran out of the brand I usually use.”

I was referring to the hair stuff, of course, and I figured she’d ask about it out of normal curiosity. I would’ve said what it was and that a card, which I already threw out with the garbage had been attached saying: From Stacey, at the VV office.

Amazingly enough, she never ever questioned me to find out just what in the hell I was talking about. Not even when I went into the office today to get my collector’s plate that came in the mail. Only she and Judy were there at that time. Maybe she didn’t want to bring it up in front of Judy.

I noticed Judy’s hair was up in a banana clip, so after half an hour I returned with one I don’t want. They get stuck in my hair so I gave them to her. Stacey was talking to an old man who lives here.

I’d have had 3 plates, but I only have two cuz one broke. I have a cat looking into a mirror and one of a little girl looking into a pond with flowers all around her. The one that broke was of a white Angora cat surrounded by purple flowers.

Later…

I wish my cold would hurry up and pass. At least this time it’s a cold and not the flu and the fever’s gone, but my throat is still a little sore. I’m also very very congested. Damn, I wish I could quit smoking! I’m trapped till I die on that one, though.

At around 5:30, I fell asleep and I woke up to the thunderstorm we had at noon. That’s fine with me, though. It’s pouring pretty heavily out there now and it’s chilly. It’s about 15º cooler than it has been. A pretty drastic change from how it’s been the last month. At least it’s not constantly changing every day like New England weather does.

There are only two things I don’t like about my new apartment I have no glass sliding shower door. I have to get a shower curtain that blows all around and sticks to you. There’s also no roof above my patio. Here I can usually leave my door open during the rain, but there I won’t be able to. At least it does not rain too often here, so I can leave my windows open while I’m asleep or out and not have to worry.

Anyway, let me back up to a couple of weeks ago. I think, but I’m not sure, it was a Friday night that I’d reached my final straw with the bitch next door banging. I said that’s it! I’m gonna give it right back. I screamed and pounded the walls for nearly 3 hours.

Mary and Dave were sitting outside talking. Mary explained to Dave why I was going off cuz right before I did, I called her to tell her what was coming.

The next day Dave left a note by my door. It said: I heard you last night and I’m sorry someone disturbed your sleep. I understand as I used to work 2nd and 3rd shifts. I was playing music and burning candles and incense. If this bothers you, please call me.

He gave me his number and I called and left a message explaining the ass next door.

Ever since that night, she’s been much quieter. I mean, like 90% quieter.

Mary’s been up a few times and we’ve also chatted on the steps, so I’m sure she’s overheard exactly how I feel. Also, anytime she tap dances, I’m gonna dance right back.

I don’t know if I wrote about this, but a week or so ago, I called one of the two maintenance numbers here, so whoever was to answer wouldn’t recognize my voice. I said, “This is Andrea C and my toilet’s overflowing and there’s water everywhere.” A half-hour later, one of the guys knocked, but I don’t think she answered. I’m sure it woke her up, though.

Dave downstairs is an excellent neighbor. I only woke up once to his closet door, but I nicely explained how well that can rock the place on his machine. One night we got to chatting for a while and he invited me down for some pizza. That was nice. He also called last night to see if I’d be awake at 5:30. He’s having a woman with a little monster come over. He said to call if it gets to be too much, but I think I can handle it knowing I’m moving and I am awake. Drowsy cuz of my cough syrup, but awake.

Later…

I still presently have a few more subjects to write about that I left off with in the previous journal. However, this cold is still nagging me, so I’ll probably write later.

My stomach is growling for food. I’m gonna go eat now as at least I have somewhat of an appetite. Then, I’ll watch TV, listen to music and write letters. Probably yack on the phone, too.

Later…

I am watching America’s Most Wanted now.

I spoke to Tammy earlier and I’m gonna have Scott call her. She’s in a really desperate financial crisis now. Maybe she can type for him.

I’m disappointed that it’s only a myth that exotic dancers make big bucks. Maybe in Vegas or Hollywood, but not here too often. I know all the girls bitch about how little they usually make and that it’s not just me. I wish it was me, though, so I could correct whatever was wrong.

Well, I’m gonna go continue with my TV shows and I’ll write later.

THURSDAY, MARCH 25, 1993 I am so happy and so pissed at the same time.

I’ve had my final straw with Stacey and she’s gonna get it good this time. Last week John decided to sublease my apartment We called Stacey and she said to come pick up an application. I did and gave it to John one night when he picked me up from work. He called me and told me he filled it out, brought it to the office, spoke briefly with Stacey, and was told she’d process it. I began to have a funny feeling about Stacey fucking with any subleasers to try to keep me here. I called and all 3 girls told me John never came in. But I know John wouldn’t lie and he described what Stacey looks like. That fucking bitch! I’m gonna do just what Scott told me to do. Go in the office with John and have her tell us to our faces that he never came in. You’d think that with the way I’ve gone off on them so many times for so many reasons, they’d say, “We don’t want a bitch like her here.” I know exactly why Stacey wants to keep me here. For one or both of the following reasons. To irk me, as she knows I do not like it here and why. I told her I was fully aware of her ordering Gordy to yack really loud outside my window early in the morning, not that I’d expect her to admit it. I also told her that with or without a subleaser, I’m out of here. Overall I’ve been pretty lucky with neighbors (at least back east I was when you get the NHA out of the picture), but with landlords and apartment managers, it’s been a whole different ball game. If it was the other way around and they knew I loved it here, I bet she’d try to evict me. I’m literally her fucking source of entertainment. She gets off on me going off.

I have another possible motivation on her part which others suggested to me when she pulled her first episode with me last October. I think it’s a combination of both, though. I’ve heard she’s married, but even if she wasn’t and if she were attracted to a female, she’s too conservative to act on it. She surely seems the type who could never bring herself to go with a woman no matter how much she was attracted to them. Maybe I’m the first one, she’s not used to the feeling, and it’s freaking her out. When people can’t act on their attraction and get positive attention, they’ll try getting negative attention. People desperate for sex or friendship like Nervous, Fran and Ellie surely do stuff like that. But Stacey is a different kind in that same group of people. To tell you the truth, I’d be somewhat flattered if she liked me. She’s no one I’d ever have a relationship with because she’s too much of a bitch, but I’d have sex with her.

Last Friday Scott took me to his complex to fill out an application for a 1-bedroom, but there were no top-floor 1-bedrooms available. All they had were first and second floors. No way. So, the subject of a 2-bedroom/1 bath came up for $500 a month. Even if I made $600 a month at work, plus my $444, I could swing the rent, electricity and phone. However, Scott will be paying $200 of my rent for me to type for him. This is good anyway, as SS would surely wonder how I can pay $500 for rent, plus the electricity and phone out of $444 a month. The rental lease to prove what my rent is can easily be changed. I simply white out the $500 and reprint $325. Then, I photocopy it.

So, I saw a vacant apartment two doors away from Scott’s that’ll be ready on the 27th of this month. It’s gorgeous! It’s about 900 square feet and it’s sort of laid out like the 2-bedrooms here. The master bedroom is by the highway which is fine with me as highway noise is kind of soothing. The other bedroom’s at the opposite end of the apartment on the other side of the building, and yes it’s even closer to the pool. That’s OK, though, as where I’m gonna sleep is far from the pool and that’s where the highway noise is. At the other end of the apartment where the other bedroom is, are the sounds of the waterfalls. It’s a very long apartment and the kitchen is sort of like the ones here in the 1- and 2-bedrooms. It’s wider and you can reach through and over a counter into the living room. Sort of like a little bar-like thing, and I want to get stools. The other wall’s solid cuz behind it is outside.

The security guard lives below me and is on a night schedule, too. The office is next to me, but not directly attached to me. They’re on the ground at an angle. There’s someone next to me on the side where my kitchen and living room wall is, but it’s fine as the wall’s solid concrete. Also, the apartment’s so big that they’re not right next to you. In this studio building, everyone’s next to each other cuz the apartments are so small and so close. It’s like living in a house here, rather than your own apartment

There’s no way I’ll be so able to hear footsteps and banging so much. Even if there were a kid next to me, although I prefer there not to be, it wouldn’t be such a problem.

My apartment is even bigger than Scott’s cuz he loses the extra space in his second bathroom. I make it up in living room space. His stairs are on the poolside of the building. Mine are on the highway side. I have a huge sliding glass door at the end of the living room. One window in the master bedroom and two in the other. They’re corner windows close together and it’s so cool looking. One goes directly outside and the other onto my patio. My storage closet’s not on my patio. It’s right outside my front door, but that’s fine in case I encounter any unwanted visitors in it. Easier to sweep it out, too. It’s locked, but I’ll be sure I don’t put any valuables in it.

Later…

In half an hour or so from now, John will be calling, so I’ll write till then. Andy will probably call, too. At the same time as everything happens at once. While I was in the shower today, Andy, Scott, and some magazine publisher called.

Once again I questioned Andy about the hair care products and TV guide left by my door. He swears he has no idea about it. No clue at all. It makes no sense that someone I know wouldn’t tell me if they left it. It also makes no sense for a stranger to drop it by my door. Only people who know me know my hair is my life and that I use TV guides. My TV guides now come in the mail.

Thank God Pete, our regular mailman is back.

Andy played me a message Velma left him for me. It said, “Tell your friend I will order a straightening iron for $14.95 if she wants.” Just as I was about to say something, Andy asked what I was about to say. A straightening iron (especially a rare kind hardly ever sold in stores) costs from $20-$30, so this is her way of settling fairly with me. I told Andy to tell her that I’ll tell him when to have it ordered some time after I move.

I guess Andy just had a money problem with Velma, too. He’s using some furniture of hers. A double bed, a TV stand, small table, two chairs, and that big chair. She said she’s selling it to him for $175 and she wants $85 of it now! He told her he didn’t have $85 on him even though $175 is a great price for all the furniture. So, she whined, bitched and complained, taking it oh so personally. Then Velma bitched about her phone being disconnected. Andy asked why not take all that money she has in her Cadillac fund, but she wouldn’t budge.

TUESDAY, MARCH 23, 1993 I have an awful lot to write about so I’ll get a move on it.

Once again I’ve been cursed with the flu. I am feverish with a sore throat, but at least I’m not puking. The doctor called in stuff for my flu and my pap results came back OK. Thank God.

Angel and Brian took me food shopping yesterday.

Oh, on the 16th I was hired at the Mile High and I worked Thursday and Friday. Shockingly and disappointingly enough, the money’s no better than Sha Na Na’s. At least the girls are nice and there’s no tip out. All I do is tip the DJ 10% of what I make. I’ll also save on my $5 cab fares whenever the hell I move cuz Scott can usually drive me.

I really want Scott and Andy to sit down and talk about all the stuff Scott’s told me. Andy feels Scott’s too good to be true, but he’s that way with everyone. Plus, if I had any funny feelings I’d have walked away and never gotten involved. He’s also had plenty of chances to hurt me if he were that way. When Andy first met Scott, even he was saying how cool a person he seems. There are a lot of interesting things to be written about Scott which I’ll do another time. In the meantime, do I think he’s gonna rape me? No. Do I think he’s gonna drop off the face of this earth? No. And even if he did, with my $444 from SS and $600 - $800 from the Mile High, I can swing my rent at Crystal Creek. I also met Scott’s parents at their retirement home.

I know why Andy’s acting this way. He does this whenever things go well for me and people do things for me he wishes they would do for him. He’s both happy for me as well as jealous. I’m moving earlier and then there’s Capitol. Speaking of that, he’s had 3 posters made up of the picture I gave him. It normally costs $1,000 but since he knows a photographer, he’s paying $500. That is very kind of him. I said really loud in the bar, “You paid $500 to have me blown up!” Some people got a kick outa that one!

Bob’s getting into envelope decorations, too. How nice. He’s sent 3 so far. Fran got the 3 journals. I’ll write more later. I am just too feverish and dizzy right now to sit up and write.

THURSDAY, MARCH 18, 1993 I just killed a spider and decided to write now. I need to stay up till at least 2:00 cuz I don’t want to wake up earlier than 10:00. I just paged John and Scott, but I got no calls yet.

Yesterday after Andy and I had T-bone steaks, stuffing, and corn here for dinner, I scrubbed down the kitchen area, but I need to dust, vacuum and clean the bathroom.

Scott was over about 5 nights ago. He’s dealing with undependable elderly people, trying to get them into my place. He knows tons of people but he hasn’t got the time to contact them about getting in here.

I let him hear some edits as well as a few of his own that I edited from messages he left me.

He talked to Bill about a picture of me. Bill said he’s only interested in the voice, but promotions may want to see if the “girl” is marketable. I gave Scott one of me in a black dress. Behind me were the blinds on my sliding glass door. He knows a photographer personally and he’s gonna have it blown up and have the blinds taken out and an ocean replaced as my background.

Last night I spoke to John. He wants out of his place, as the people above him stomp on his head all day. He’s gonna let me know about taking over my place, but I don’t have a great vibe on that one.

A couple of days ago Andy called me wanting me to hear a message someone left him to see if I knew who it was. All she said was, “Hi, talk to you later.” I said it sounded like Ellie’s voice. He agreed. So, yesterday afternoon he told me he was over at her place trying to convince her to call me, but she wouldn’t. He called me after and said her place was wide open (patio door & window) and he could’ve easily climbed down into her patio which is partially underground like a cellar. Then, he suggested we go over there and we did.

She flipped and ran into her bedroom and shut the bedroom door. All the while screaming mainly at me. I told him to climb into her place, but cuz it was broad daylight he wouldn’t. We ran to her bedroom window trying to convince her to call me, but she kept running at the mouth.

We left and we agreed he’d go to her place and that he’d call me. She will invite him in, too. I only hope she doesn’t have blocks, as she seems the type who’d get them. Meanwhile, we got her apartment number. I never knew her last name which I guess begins with a C. That’s OK, though, cuz as long as I got her apartment number I’ll type Eloisa and a last name beginning with a C.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 17, 1993 As of yesterday, Andy’s been here for two years. I’ve been here 9 months and 8 days.

I have so many topics to discuss, so I’ll just run right down the list.

Yesterday at 4:30 PM Andy took me to the Mile High Club where Crystal (Scott’s girlfriend) works. Even from the outside, before we went inside, I could see how much classier it is. The inside is so much nicer. Classier, fancier and bigger. There’s only one huge stage and that’s good, so we have more time to get table dances.

A guy named Mark, who seems very nice, hired me. First, we spoke and then I danced to a Madonna song. I wasn’t one bit nervous. Just like at Sha Na Na’s the girls seemed very nice and said don’t hesitate to ask any questions.

The dressing room’s so much bigger and nicer. We won’t have to be climbing over each other and we even have our own lockers. This is great, and I’ll use my combination lock so I don’t have to keep my key on me. It’s also nice that I won’t have to lug all my shit home with me every night. Just the stuff I need to wash.

It’s still under the table and you have no bar tip! All you’re recommended to give is a little something to the DJ.

I’ll be working Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday from 6 PM - 1 AM. I’ll be doing Andy’s laundry for him once again, in exchange for rides to work. Steve, who I just paged, will be picking me up. I gave him my schedule and he’s still gonna flat rate me $5. It’s normally an $8 - $10 fare.

The two months of experience at Sha Na Na’s sure helps. When Mark said not to forget my latex, it was good to be able to say, “I know,” instead of, “What’s that?”

Later…

I just had half of a cigarette. They’re long 120s. Now I’m microwaving bacon.

I got another kitten plate in the mail, so now I have two. They’re cute.

A guy named Greg whom I met at the pool last summer was gonna take me to the doctor, but Angel and Brian were available to do it. I gave them $3, some coffee and some hot chocolate.

Later…

About my doctor’s appointment, well, it was a little surprising. First of all, he ended up doing an unexpected pelvic exam which didn’t hurt at all. I am infected and I’ve got to call them Fri. as well as figure out what to do. The doctor says it hasn’t been treated right. Well, that’s obvious since no creams or antibiotics would work. My tits are fine. Just the usual obnoxious soreness and swelling before my period. My luck will be that I’ll get my period for my first night of work.

My allergies and asthma are much better than they were from mid-October to late January, but November and December were the worst months.

I’m starting to feel more comfortable with this doctor. It usually takes a while. He was shocked when I told him about the dancing as he’s only seen my shy side that only comes out with doctors. Everyone who knows me knows I’m far from shy.

Stacey explained how it works for a subleaser. They’d pay $297 and they’d have 8 months added on after June 30th. Speaking of Stacey, well, so she seems friendlier to my face, but it’s ironic how Gordy talks really loud by my bedroom window at 7:30 in the morning. Maybe it’s Stacey’s orders or on maintenance alone. But, then again, Andy got the same shit when he was working 3rd shift before I ever got here.

The weather was funny today. It’s been in the 80s for two weeks. Today and yesterday it even felt a little muggy and I had the AC on here and there. Right now it’s beautiful, dry and not too cool or too hot, but I think it’s gonna rain. New England’s now having what they’re calling the storm of the century. I mean, they haven’t had this much snow since the late 60s - early 70s. They have over two feet all through the east coast! Lisa and Becky’s school has been canceled. What perfect timing for me to get the hell out! I’d be stranded and even more of a caged animal, even if I did have a car.

Andy and Tammy had an excellent talk with me listening without Tammy’s knowledge. It was funny how Tammy said Becky said, “This boy Kenny. I think he has a black face, but I like him anyway.”

They talked about the weather, my dancing and this and that. Andy mentioned Scott, too. When Andy mentioned my being in shape, Tammy said, “At least one of us is.”

Then, when I went to signal him to hang up I didn’t want to hit buttons on the phone, so I slammed my closet door. He said, “I hear someone slamming their closet door and it doesn’t bother me, but it’d make Jodi furious.”

Tammy says, “After Norwich, it sure would.”

Earlier today I spoke to mom for the last time in a while. She’s such a never-ending, never-changing bitch. They’re happy I’m happy dancing, but in her eyes, I’m just never good enough no matter what I do and I’m sure she expects me to fall flat on my ass and fail. Yeah, I’ve failed and given up on stuff before, but that was then, this is now. I appreciate all her material and financial help, but I need a break from even talking to the bitch. Dad and Tammy are a whole different ball game. They’re very supportive and positive.

Mary’s coming up from downstairs, so I’ll write later.

Later…

I just reorganized my workbag. It’ll be easier using the combination lock and hanging some of my costumes up on the hooks inside my locker. Until I have more shoes and more G-strings, all I’ll take home in a smaller bag will be my shoes and G-strings and stockings to wash. I don’t remember, but I hope there’s a shelf in the locker for my little stuff like makeup, deodorant, brush, money, etc.

I have a half-hour before I watch TV, so I’ll write about Mary’s visit.

Before I do, though, I blasted out the post office today. A million others here, along with the office have too. Pete left and we haven’t a regular carrier yet and they’re screwing up everyone’s mail. I’m missing a phone bill, I believe. I also think I may be missing my TV guide. I left a note saying, “Put my damn mail in my box. Not on top of all the mailboxes and not in someone else’s!”

I also got a call that was out of area, according to my box. It probably was Fran or Nervous, but I left Fran a message to let me know if he got the journals.

Leanne hasn’t called, but Julia did. She was crying cuz she was upset with some guy. She said, “I don’t mean to keep you hanging. I can’t say I’ll never be with a woman. I’m sure women are better cuz they’re more sensitive, easier to deal with and I’m sure better in bed, but right now I’m so hurt and I don’t want to see anyone.” I told her I was a good listener if she ever wanted to call, nothing’s too blunt or personal, and she can take her time cuz I know exactly how fucked people are.

Mary and I went to the office for part of their 6-foot sub and other goodies, like cake, ice cream and cookies. All this week they’re having things going on due to St. Patty’s day. Yesterday was car wash day. Andy got his washed. Saturday’s free carnations. I think tomorrow’s free coffee and donuts.

I’ll write more about what Mary and I discussed later on after my shows.

MONDAY, MARCH 15, 1993 I am now out on my patio, but it’s too hot and uncomfortable writing with no table. I have moved right inside to my kitchen table.

Scott came over at 10:00 last night. He was unable to go to church as he had to go repair a government home that was broken into.

I wonder, along with him, just how dependable these elderly people are gonna be from his church. He knows a lot of people but doesn’t really have the time to get ahold of them as far as taking over my place.

SUNDAY, MARCH 14, 1993 It is amazing as all hell, but this weekend Andi’s been quiet. She’s been in and out all weekend.

The guy below me is never home which is fine with me.

I hope to hear from Scott by 5:00 or so. I do have a good feeling, but I want to hear him tell me I’m out of here. The office has to approve them and I hope they don’t take their sweet time and stall or get in the way of anything. Since I let Stacey have it last October she hasn’t messed with me, and Paula and Judy are no problem.

I left some edits on Mary’s machine as I said I would. I can’t wait till Scott hears the edits. I’ve told him all about them and I edited him leaving a message on my VM.

The weather’s unlike it has been in the last two weeks. It was in the 80s and very warm. Today’s cloudy and slightly damp and chilly. It’s 77º, but of course, here that feels like 67º. Tonight will be chilly and I may turn my heat on during the very early morning hours. It’ll be the high 40s to low 50s tonight no doubt.

No one’s at the pool today.

Andy fell asleep last night when I called, so we’ll talk later. From 7:00-10:00, I won’t be talking to anyone. There’s a movie I want to see, as well as some other show on channel 3, which we never could figure out how to program into the VCR. It’s nice having Caller ID so I can see who’s calling unless they have blocks.

Just when it looks like the sun’s gonna creep out, it gets cloudy. My patio is so beautiful, though. It’s so green with it being surrounded by trees. I hope my new apartment will have the most private patio as well as the most private and quiet apartment I’m sitting at my table now with my sliding door open. I just realized how wide those doors are in my new apartment I could just yank this table out whenever I want to write outside. I do want to get another table, though.

Well, I’ve got the munchies again, so I shall go eat.

Later…

Right now I’m getting pretty pissed. Scott hasn’t called and I’m tired of playing this waiting game. If no one takes this apartment, I’m moving anyway. The bitch next door’s back to doing her usual tap dance. Although it’s mild, I’m gonna be knocking on the inside of my door the next time I’m up past midnight.

Watch Scott call during tonight’s movie since I can’t record it.

Andy went out to dinner, but a few hours ago he heard my latest edition of edits. Mainly him singing the Funny Farm song and other stuff, Scott, and us coughing.

I did tons of letter-writing today and that’s pretty much all I did. I ate a lot and watched the shows I taped last night.

Nervous and Fran are getting no more letters from me. They never write to me, I’m bored and sick of writing to them as its fun has worn off and that’ll leave me more time to do other stuff. I’ll only write to my parents, Lisa and Becky (who get one letter for both of them), Kim, Bob and Tammy. So, that totals 7 letters, but 5 people. I won’t be writing as often as I have been.

SATURDAY, MARCH 13, 1993 I hope Scott calls soon to tell me if he’s got someone taking over my apartment. He called two nights ago saying he spoke to several people and he’s got positive news. I hope so. This morning he left a message saying he’d call right about now or tomorrow.

Christina, the housekeeper, left me a huge box with smaller boxes inside them. I’ve told several people to leave me boxes if they can.

Friday I was at the pool as well as today and the last 4-5 days. I’ve met some nice new people as well as chatted with people I’ve known. Stephanie and I had a great two-hour talk yesterday.

Leanne left a message saying she’d not only been busy with the move but had strep throat. Once again, I’m not bothering with her for the same old reason. She sounds fine now and if she really wanted to see me, she’d have done so by now. Again, you can maybe get lucky enough to have them call and hit it off over the phone, but good luck getting them to your door and following through from there. People, man, I’ll tell ya. If she calls again I’m telling her what I just wrote and that I’m calling it quits.

I left Julia a message, too. No calls from her either.

Andy may call any minute, and due to the fact that everything happens at once, Scott will call at the same time.

My mom left a message right before I awoke at 10:00. A letter to them was returned to me and I left a message asking why. She said she had no idea why and that they were fine. Then, it was pretty funny as she didn’t hang up the phone all the way. The bummer was, though, that she caught it soon enough afterward.

I got some of the color back that I lost, but I’m gonna be careful. I don’t want sun poisoning or skin cancer.

Tonya was over two days ago for a reading. We had a chat for a half-hour or so.

Kara may be returning to Michigan for a while to get her diploma there, then return here to go to the police academy.

I was over at Diane’s again today for coffee. We had a nice chat, too.

It’s a miracle and a half, but Andi was out all day (next door). I hope she doesn’t make up for today’s peace and quiet by flipping out all day tomorrow. That’s all I need unless she goes to church.

I called information last night after realizing I misspelled her name and that’s why I couldn’t get the number. I’m surprised she’s even listed, but I left her some spitting, as well as Mary Had a Little Lamb with the phone keys, and also had Kara say, “Payback’s a bitch.”

I almost forgot, but when I called Julia today, I’d planned on playing Mary Had a Little Lamb after I hit the first 4 keys, but her messages played. How neat. Just like Fran. She had a message to call her from a Barb and one from US West to get caller ID.

Last night Andy and I tried calling Nervous and got no answer. We then called Fran and got his machine. I hit *37 and there was a message from a girl. It appears that once again he took in some creep who ripped him off, but that’ll always be Fran for you. A major sucker. I recorded this girl’s message and edited it onto his machine. He is not gonna be expecting that! Andy and I were cracking up. I did quite a bit of editing today and I promised to leave some on Mary’s machine.

We went grocery shopping, but I’ll write about that later.

A note from Andy…

Andy was here on December 4, 1992. In his living room with his stomach growling because he is starving. The phone just rang and Jodi wants me to cook pork chops. But they take 45 minutes to cook ‘em my way. I am starving do you understand? Last night I drove up to Camelback Mountain to be part of the clouds. I stood for a long while in the drizzle, dreaming of my wanton luxury. Let’s do some handy things together. Thank you, God, for sending my best companion to me!

Later…

Any minute I’ll be chatting with Andy, so I will write till then. That is unless he already fell asleep.

Andy gave me a good idea. He said it’d probably be better for Bill T to see what I look like. And by the way, it’s Bill/Mark Productions. I mentioned this idea to Scott who I spoke to a little while ago. He agreed, so I’m gonna give him a picture of me to send to Bill.

Scott says he’s gonna see these two elderly people in church tomorrow about my place. Let’s hope all goes well, but I do finally have a very very good vibe.

He’s also gonna buy my food stamps from me to send to his son in Michigan. He said this way he knows only food can be bought with it. At the grocery store, I bought (besides food) two new bottles of nail polish. My favorite colors which just dried out; fire engine red and burgundy. A package of 48 colorful envelopes. Wild Musk perfume which is mild and doesn’t set off my allergies as much.

Mary also told me she went to a psychic fair and was told the same things I told her.

I still have no idea as to who left me those hair care products. Everyone I know would tell me they left it if they did, so I guess a stranger left it, but that doesn’t seem right either. Does Andy know something about this? Does it have to do with Velma? He not only sides with those I’m upset with, but he also tries to fix shit between us. More and more he’s bringing up shit about Velma. This really irks me, but I try to ignore it. The last person I want to associate with is a stingy selfish bitch.

I’ll try calling him now. If his machine comes on, then he obviously fell asleep. Then, I’ll go watch all the shows I’ve recorded and write letters.

THURSDAY, MARCH 11, 1993 I’m sitting here by my building on the utility box hoping my cab gets here soon enough and doesn’t forget or get lost. I called Brian and Angel and they said they could probably pick me up if I can’t get a ride again from that new waitress and her mother as I did yesterday. I went over to Brian and Angel’s apartment yesterday. If they’re around whenever I need a ride while I still live here, they’ll drive me.

I’ve been up since 4:30 and I’m somewhat tired. By the time my shift ends, I’ll be beat. Then, if I must work the PM shift tomorrow night, I’ll have to try to hold out at least until midnight.

Not only can I not wait to move, but I also can’t wait to quit Sha Na Na’s and transfer. I know it’ll be deader than dead just like it was yesterday so I brought a notebook. I’ll copy whatever I write into my journal cuz there’s no way I’d bring it to work in case anything happened to it.

God, please let that cab be here on time! They do this shit to me every time I call for one.

I hope Scott does make it in today. I could use a friend coming in there and also one who’ll never let me go home broke.

Unfortunately, I am kind of tired and that sucks. I’ll have to get some coffee as soon as I get there.

Here comes sweet little old Stacey. She said hello in a friendly voice as she walked by with two potential residents. Residents who will never know just how thin the walls are unless they move in.

Later…

I am at work now where there is only one fucking customer! God, I hope Scott comes in!

Luckily my cab driver got there on time, but not Charles. Some other guy came and he hated Vista Ventana and moved, too. I’ve spoken to numerous people who don’t like VV for the same reasons I don’t.

They’re remodeling here. They connected the 3 stages. Good idea. There are more mirrors, too.

I’m now sitting at the back of the bar at a table, thanking God I brought a notebook. If I don’t copy what I’ve written into my journal after work, then I will soon.

Omar was here, then he left, so who knows what the hell’s going on with my schedule? I’ve already done my set, but after two more songs, it’ll be my turn again on stage. There are only 5 girls here right now which doesn’t matter since it’ll be dead. There are Dee Dee, Venus, Debbie, Storm and I. There are way too many girls on the PM shift. That’s for damn sure. There are 3 DJs. Andy, Tracy (who I call Billy cuz he looks like Billy Ray Cyrus) and Phil. Billy was here yesterday. Andy came in for his paycheck and to bum a smoke off of me, not that I mind. Phil’s on today. He asked me what kind of music I like since he’s never DJ’d with me working. I told him I hate heavy metal and to play dance music and country. I named singers I like. I was the first dancer up before our one customer came in. Phil tipped me a buck. Wow, I just noticed we have two more customers. Wowee, like it’ll help much. How do these dancers pay their bills?

Later…

I just did my second set and got $3 for it. Some long-time regular just brought in tons of chicken wings and grinders. That was great cuz I was starving. There are a few more customers in here now and I believe I have a table dance for the next song. There are only 4 customers in here now.

I still have some letter writing to do as well as editing, as always. After I copy this into my journal I’m sure the no-postage-necessary people will want to hear from me.

I just did my much-needed table dance and after the next song, my third set’s up. For the last set, as I was getting on stage, Phil said, “Mystery, you’ve been here two months and I’ve been here two years and we haven’t worked together yet.” Afterward, he complimented me on my dancing. Yes, I can feel and see that difference in my body and my dancing. I’m much more limber.

I’ve only gotten two table dances so far and this really sucks what with how dead it is here. Next song is my fourth set. Each girl’s doing two songs.

I hope Scott comes in. Omar’s back, but he’s busy with the guys who are remodeling.

Later…

Right after I last wrote I went up on stage and Scott came in. If he didn’t come in I’d have $4 after tip out, but he threw $70 on me! How cool, huh?

We had a great talk for an hour or so. He feels I probably will be out on the 15th. He also says he has a really strong feeling within two weeks I’ll be going to L.A. He said if worse comes to worst as far as them taking their sweet time, he will personally take me out to their studios in May.

I just thank God for 95% happiness all the time now, rather than 95% misery.

Scott says my black cat’s doing fine and I came up with the perfect name for him. Especially an all-black cat. My stage name… Mystery.

I hope Kara stopped by to pick up those blankets.

If all goes well, I’ll only have one more weekend of listening to the bitch next door pummel the walls, floors and whatever the hell it is she does to create so much fucking banging.

I’ll be calling Bob during the day Friday. Bob, the bartender, that is. I told him to put me back on 4 nights a week, but no Saturdays or Mondays.

I am just so happy now. I’ve been depressed or anxious only a few times since I’ve been here, but it passed quickly. It was mainly over money. Also wondering what the hell I was gonna do with my life and how the hell I’d ever get a connection with the singing. Thanks to Tonya who started all this. Without her, there’d be no dancing, no money, no peace of mind, no Scott, no Capitol, no new apartment. No, money’s not everything, but it sure does help. If I didn’t want to be a singer or do anything else, this is where I’d stay. Maybe not in this particular club, but I’d never stop dancing.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 10, 1993 Yesterday I awoke at 5:00 and I went into Sha Na Na’s for the noon - 6:30 shift and made shitty money. I’m going in at noon today too, and Omar’s going to change my schedule. I cannot work Saturday and Monday.

Scott has round two with the IRS this Thursday. He still doesn’t know where he stands with them.

Still have no idea when my lease will be taken over, but I hope real soon.

For some unknown reason, I got a letter I’d sent to my parents returned to me. I called and left them a message to let me know if they know anything about it.

No calls from Ellie, Julia or Leanne.

Later…

I just put in a personal call to Charles, my new day driver for 11:30. He drives the same cab Steve drives at night.

Andy’s still asleep and God only knows how with the outside noise here and there. Must’ve smoked lots of pot.

Kara will be stopping over to pick up two blankets I don’t want. I left them outside my door. Kara may be going home to Michigan for a while.

Scott called and he may stop in today. Scott’s talking to people today about my apartment.

MONDAY, MARCH 8, 1993 Saturday morning I asked Kara to tell me if she felt I’m gonna move on March 15th or April 1st. She felt the 15th. I sure hope so. Kara’s just as psychic as me and so is John. I always wanted to meet someone at my level to consult with from one psychic to another.

After Kara and I spoke, I called Tammy and she asked me to try to tell her if she’d be getting a job. I wasn’t able to see what the job was, but I felt it was 40 minutes away and required traveling. That much was right. I told her I had a very good vibe for the job. She’d get a call about it Monday between 10 AM-noon and fix whatever may be wrong with her van. I also could see a guy in his 40s, average height and weight, dark hair, slight bald spot, dark eyes, dark-rimmed glasses, and a heavy-set black woman.

I thought I saw her arguing with a blond in a grocery store, but she said she’d had a friendly chat with this woman.

Then, I called Kara and we called her and I told Tammy that Kara’s a lot like me and we consult one another. Kara and I agreed on everything, but one thing. Finally, Tammy told us it was a job doing security. Kara said she saw that as well as carrying a gun. Maybe the reason why I had a strong vibe was cuz she definitely has the looks and the image of a security guard. About as much as I look like a singer and a dancer.

I told her to give up Avon as I see it to be a pain in the ass that’s not profitable. Tammy says she’ll let me know.

Saturday night at around 8:00 I went to the Jacuzzi. Sue, Steve, Angel, Brian, their baby and some other guy were there. We had a nice chat and they were happy for me about the dancing, Capitol, and the new apartment

It’s amazing how many people don’t like it here for the same reasons I don’t. They all complain about the walls being too thin.

If I could’ve slept till 3:00 tonight, I’d have gone to work today from noon - 6:30, but I awoke at 11:20 PM. I still don’t know if I’ll be returning to Sha Na Na’s, typing for Scott, or transferring if he can drive me to and from work while I still live here. He called right before I woke up and said he’d call tomorrow. I hope things rule in his favor.

Last night John called from Circle K and Steve was there too. I spoke to both of them telling them everything’s up in the air at the moment.

I’ll be sending Fran the old little journals. I’ll get 5 stamps from the office today.

I neglected the plant my parents sent me on my B-Day, so I trimmed all the dead leaves. I also took the flowered bow out of the plant and unraveled it. It’s quite long and I’ll use it for some kind of decoration after I move.

I got 3 NPN envelopes and I stuffed in pictures Andy didn’t want.

Andy says Velma is still looking into a straightening iron for me, but I’m not paying for it. She is to pay for it, otherwise, forget it.

Later…

At about 10:00 yesterday morning, I ran into Diane on my way back from my mailbox. She’s the one I’ve seen a couple of times in the laundry room and she met Stephanie. You surely can tell she’s gay, but she’s not pitifully ugly. Not as ugly as the bitch next door. She came up to see my studio, then she invited me to her place for coffee. I was shocked at how clean, neat and well-decorated her apartment is. We sat on her porch and had a nice talk. She’s 29, athletic like most of them are, and sober. Being able to read people well, I figured she was sober. She goes to school and works in the medical records dept. at Baptist Hospital. She also has a car and goes to bed early and gets up early. She’s single now but was once in a relationship for 4 years. I can see that, due to her plain looks and she does seem relationship-oriented. She also seems like a very good, stable, mature person. We exchanged numbers, then I went to the pool. There were several people there. Sharon, who I met in August was there with her little girl and boy. We chatted for a while and I was there for a little over an hour. I did get some color, but not enough to brag about. Tomorrow will be better for hanging out at the pool. No one will be there, but the people who mow the lawns will be out and about everywhere.

I’ll write more after I go eat and boy am I ever hungry.

Later…

I just had two pieces of fried chicken and soon I’ll have another “cough of cuppee.”

What the hell was that that just sounded like something hit the roof?

I haven’t heard at all from Leanne for over a week. She must be either extremely busy or has chickened out. And Andy thought I’d chicken out. Maybe she lost my number during her move. Who knows?

Julia called me a week ago. I’ll call both of them just as soon as I know what’s going on with me.

When the hell am I going to L.A.? John, Kara and I feel it’s positive with a positive outcome. We all feel in a month I’ll be there, but I want to go now!

About a week ago I had a nice chat with my dad about dancing, the apartment and Capitol.

It’s 6:00 back east and Tammy and the rest of the family are getting up around this time. I sure hope in the next 4-6 hours she gets called about that job so I don’t make an ass of myself. I’ve never really predicted events for someone 3,000 miles away, although it’s not impossible.

Another sound from the roof. It sounded like it cracked. Let’s hope not while I’m still here.

Later…

Yes! I called Sprint about that $100 deposit and it was a mistake on their end. She said to disregard the letter. Damn right, I will.

Today I’ll leave that note I said I’d leave on Ellie’s door.

Later…

I just completed another edit tape. It sure is less confusing and much easier dealing with all my tapes now that I finally got them all organized. I left Andy the latest edition of edits on his VM along with tons of other messages. Soon, I’ll tape the 7 saved messages from my VM to be edited. One’s of Scott and the rest are of Andy burping, coughing and singing.

We made a deal that while we weren’t home or were asleep we’d pull our phones off the hook. That way we wouldn’t have to wait for it to ring and ring and our messages would go off after only one ring. I also discovered it’ll skip our messages if we hit the pound key as soon as it starts. There’s only one unfortunate problem with taking my phone off the hook. When I do that my Caller ID doesn’t work cuz it takes at least two rings, whether the ringer’s on or off to activate the Caller ID box. No numbers will appear on the screen. I never know when or who may call with a name and number I wish to know about. Unless they have a blocking option. I hope Ellie calls and has no blocking. After putting the note on her door I must keep my phone on the hook and answer after two rings. If you’re sitting right there looking at the box, you’ll see the number appear. If they’ve got blocks it’ll say, “private name - private number.” It says their name, the date, time of call, and the number. Sometimes it may not register, so it’ll say error. It also has a button on the bottom for English or Spanish.

I think (but I’m not sure) I hear the guy below me. I’ve been very lucky with him so far. He’s never home and is very quiet. Andi next door makes up for him. But I sure hope just the same he can’t hear me at night. I accidentally dropped a plate last night so I hope he’s a heavy sleeper or just doesn’t care. Yes, I definitely hear him now in his cabinets. The floors seem just as thin as the walls. I wonder if he heard the edits while I was recording them on Andy’s VM.

I wish I could get Andi’s number, as well as Rosemarie’s. But when I’m gone they’ll get mail.

Later…

I am shocked at how many people are at the pool today on a Monday. Quite a few. Stephanie, Tara and Linda were there along with others I’ve seen before but I can’t remember their names.

It is hot today at 85º. This feels so weird for it being February 8th and knowing Tammy’s cold back in CT.

I didn’t get too much color. It’s hard to keep up the patience to just lay there.

The mail’s either late or I didn’t get anything. Stephanie says there’s a new mailman.

I swept my patio and ditched my raft. There’s a hole in it somewhere and I’d like to get a bigger raft.

I left a message on Leanne and Julia’s machines.

I sure hope Tammy got that security guard job she wanted and that Scott’s meeting is going well. I spoke to him at 8:30 this morning. He said his meeting begins at 10:30 and probably won’t end till 7:30. I told him to leave a message if I don’t answer. Two people from his church are to be calling him tomorrow about taking over my lease.

Andy left a TV guide and some hair and skin care products outside my door. There were 4 tiny little bottles. There was shampoo, conditioner, bath or shower gel and lotion. That was nice.

Around 9:00 or so I left Ellie her note. At first, I thought she moved, as the table I flipped wasn’t there. Nothing was outside the door, but then I saw her through the sides of the blinds in her kitchen. I still haven’t gotten a call from her. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t called with her being the desperate Fran/Nervous type. We’ll see.

Later…

I am out on my patio now. It is gorgeous. I am beginning to get very very sleepy. Soon I must hit the sack. I will have some coffee then I’ll watch TV till I can no longer keep my eyes open. Writing is almost hypnotizing when you’re tired. Your eyes stare blankly at the paper while the pen flows and flows away.

What a huge patio I’ll have when I move. I’m gonna get a table so I can write a little easier. It’s a little awkward and uncomfortable writing with the book on my lap. It causes me to write sloppier, too. Plus, I’m so beat. The sun sure drains you. I feel as if I did get some color, yet I have no new, real distinct tan lines. I feel and look solid and muscular, but I have no problem with that. Especially for a girl of 90-something pounds who’s 4’ 11”.

I went to the office to get a stamp and Paula ended up chatting with me. She and Judy really are very nice. If Stacey were a staff member in some place like Valleyhead or Brattleboro, I’d pity those kids! Not that I don’t anyway, and there are definitely enough Staceys working in these places who don’t belong. Stacey would be a carbon copy of Donna A, her sister Margaret, and Barbara D.

I should go record my phone messages into my box now.

SUNDAY, MARCH 7, 1993 Yesterday was a shitty day. Two mornings ago, which would’ve been very early Saturday morning at 3 AM, I fell asleep. I had weird dreams and was wide awake an hour later. At 10:30 I began to get sleepy, but sure enough, the bitch next door began her slamming, ramming and banging. Sundays she’s out a lot, but is this bitch ever gonna sit still on a Saturday? How can a person make so much fucking noise while they’re cleaning? At 6:00 this morning I knocked really loud on the inside of my door. I’m sure that woke her up and she wondered whose door it was. Our doors are so close. I’m gonna knock even earlier this morning once an hour, and this bitch has to work tomorrow.

I finally fell asleep yesterday at 12:30 and then Andy fucking came in and shook me awake. I told him never to do that again unless I told him to. He may be coming down with another cold. I hope I don’t. An hour after he woke me up I fell back asleep till 9:30. I was beat.

I spoke with Scott who I may see tonight, but it depends on when and how long I sleep. I hope he’s got good news on a person taking over my lease. I also hope his meeting with the IRS Monday goes well and that I can type for him, move, then transfer to a better club.

If I can get up tonight no earlier than 3 AM, I may go during the day tomorrow to Sha Na Na’s.

Early yesterday morning I took a chance at Kara being home and she was. She said her trip to Vegas sucked. She and her girlfriend’s mother had it out and she says she’s running for her life. She even mentioned going back to Michigan to live. I told her it’ll blow over. This must really be serious for a tough girl like her to be intimidated.

Her sister Stacey was there and told Kara about dancing at Sha Na Na’s. She left, however, for the same reasons I’d like to transfer whether or not I’m moving. Bad publicity due to the raids, a lot of people resent Arabs and they also have way too many girls there. She’s now at the Ex-Caliber.

SATURDAY, MARCH 6, 1993 I am pissed! I fell asleep at 3:00 and I only slept an hour. Fuck that shit! All I know is that I was having weird dreams.

The proofs came out OK. Andy took me to my 7:30 appointment last night. The one I chose has me leaning on my side with my hair flowing down my side.

After that, he and I went to a restaurant called J.B.’s. It was so-so, but we really loved the Black-Eyed Pea.

I took an hour and 40 minutes to cut coupons for him. He was quite pleased.

He also gave me some blooper photos and also photos he doesn’t want. I’ll split them up between Kim, Bob, Fran and Nervous.

I spoke to Kim for 15 minutes before we left for Valley West Mall. She’s not as stable emotionally and financially as she’d like to be.

I’m gonna bitch out Sprint next Monday. They sent me a letter saying they need a $100 deposit. I’ve had their service now for a month and now they’re telling me this?! I’m gonna give them an ultimatum. To either go shove their $100 or I don’t want their service.

Later…

I’m still up and furious so I called Nervous. We had a nice talk about our lives in general.

I put the radio on the stereo softly since I don’t know if Andi or anyone else is gonna decide to rock the building. The true test will be this weekend, but so far, and with very much thanks to Mary, Andi’s been quieter. Also thanks to “Daryl’s” note. She’s been getting up quieter during the weekdays.

I hope I get enough sleep cuz I really want to work tonight. I was gonna wait till I heard from Scott, but I decided not to.

I made another big mistake with Andy. I gave him Scott’s number to his beeper about Scott fixing his VCR. With Scott’s permission, but that’s not the point. The point is, is that no matter how much Andy promises not to talk about me (other than just trivial and general stuff), he will. And the bulk of it will be negative shit about me or personal. I have no problem with telling friends my personal ups and downs, but from my mouth only, when I’m ready to and in the mood. They haven’t gotten together yet, but they’re bound to sooner or later.

Anyway, here are the names of some of the dancers where I work: René, Alex, Toni, Pearl, Diamond, Ruby, Brandy, Storm, Venus, Christine, Pebbles, Danya, Rena, Corey, Dawn, Dee Dee, Alicia, Donna, Dallas, Tracy, Susie, Crystal, Ronnie and that’s all I care to think of at the moment.

I really must try to hit the sack.

FRIDAY, MARCH 5, 1993 While I’m watching TV I’m gonna write. Tomorrow Andy and I are going to the mall where I’m going to pick out one of the 10 pictures that were taken of me.

I’m also gonna buy him a silk shirt which he wanted for his birthday.

Saturday night I’m probably gonna go to Sha Na Na’s. This way I can still have more income till I know when I’m gonna move for sure. After I move I’ll transfer.

I can’t wait to get into this gorgeous apartment!

THURSDAY, MARCH 4, 1993 Once again, I have so much updating to do. I mean, I am swamped with it, let alone with the other things I’m working on. I have a major project going on now with my journals. I have 4 little books which I don’t like and no longer want. Number 8 was mostly all phone numbers. I’ve gone and copied them into number 18. I took two of the big books I just got and in one of them, I copied the old number 10. I also numbered the new big one number 10. Then, I took one other big book and numbered it number 5. I’m now almost halfway through number 6. I threw out number 8, but when I have all 3 (5, 6 & 10) copied, I’m sending them to Fran.

I met the guy (Dave) who just moved in down below me. He seems nice and the great thing about it is that he’s never home just like Jeff. He also didn’t make too much noise the day he moved in which was the 1st.

I’m lucky in that area, but I finally reached my breaking point with Andi, the bitch next door. Ever since I turned her in and bitched cuz of the herd of kids, she’s been getting up real early very noisily, slamming and banging. She also shakes the building very early on the weekends. I spoke to Mary and asked her how she was dealing with the situation and she was pissed off too, and has had it herself with the bitch. She told me how she needs her rest on the weekends so she can be rested enough to handle the weekdays. I told her there was no way my bitching was gonna change things and that I knew this was all aimed at me cuz of the herd of kids I bitched out. Then, I realized that Mary could either fuel her further, as obviously, this bitch has a problem with getting complaints. Or she could make her realize her aiming her shit on me was affecting Mary who also has CP and get her to shut the fuck up. So, last Sunday Mary went up there and basically laid it out on the line. She told me she was nice about it and would be quieter, but we’ll see. Meanwhile, she fucked me out of work last weekend and that doesn’t set really well with me.

After I move I’m gonna take real good care of her. I’m gonna have Andy leave her notes on her door as well as possibly have Kara egg her patio or truck or do something messy.

Now to speak of Kara – well – who knows where she is? She’ll contact me sooner or later as she wouldn’t just drop completely out of my life, but I’m not sure if she’s in Vegas. If she said she went, then she did, but Laurie told me an interesting story. She said that she ran into Kara’s mother and she said she took all her stuff and split. I know her mother could be a bitch and that they didn’t always get along, but where could she or would she go?

Mary also took me food shopping the other day and she was up here for a visit and for me to give her a reading. I told her I had an 80% accuracy and she’s happy with that.

Later…

I almost forgot to mention one other thing about Andi next door. I totally disguised my handwriting and wrote her a note from “Daryl,” the guy who moved in next to Andy and behind her. It wrote: I recently moved in behind you in the front of the building. I realize you get up very early during the weekdays and I don’t get up till 9:00. Please try getting up quietly as well as early on the weekends.

She oughta love that.

Next Sunday I should know from Scott who’s gonna be taking over my lease and when, as well as if I can type for him. Well, I’ll find out about the typing Monday. I asked if I could type for him with or without the dancing for $600 a month. He said yes and that is what he pays his secretaries who are in Michigan, where he’s from. I have a plan that I hope I can follow, but like I said, I won’t know for sure till next Monday. I’ll explain why I won’t know till next Monday later, but here’s my plan. To quit Sha Na Na’s and type for him while I still live here. Why? For 3 reasons. One is cuz I never know if I can sleep without being woken up here during the day. It’s a 50/50 hit-or-miss deal. Two is cuz after I do move, I want to work at a club closer to where I’ll be living. Three is cuz I want to work at a classier club where I’ll make more money. I think there are two reasons why Sha Na Na’s doesn’t do too well. The publicity of the raids in their other clubs doesn’t help much. Also, Omar and Dave are Arabs and so many people hate them.

Steve said he’d still flat rate me $5, but I’d prefer a 5-10-minute ride to and from work, rather than a 20-25.

Also, there’s this classier club where Scott’s sort of seeing someone who’s working there. She’s making way more than I am. I’ve still been earning much much more than the average person, but not as much as I thought I’d be and that I know is possible. It’s possible to take home $100 or more after tip-out and that’s exactly what I want to do. On top of everything else, I still don’t think I’ll be dancing for too much longer anyway. Hopefully, real soon the music will be taking over. It’s a waiting game in the beginning just like Scott said, but once things begin, they should really roll. I always envisioned that once I got my foot in the door things would roll fast from there. And that I wouldn’t have to struggle for years and years. I still have to go through the steps just like everyone else, though. Scott’s word is very dependable about Bill T and he’s always come through on everything he’s told me so far. I guess I might start out backing up other big celebrities since you usually don’t start out on the front lines anyway.

When I was sick with the flu, Scott called me to tell me he’d just gotten out of the ER. He told me he saw 3 guys try to force a woman into their car and he stepped in using his martial arts, even though he did get banged up a bit. He managed to save the woman who’d call to thank him every two hours and the police were very pleased.

Then, also while I was sick, he came over with $100 of food! That was really very nice of him.

Later…

At 6:30 my time this morning I called Barbara at 8:30 her time. Marie was there too who also lives there, but we never spoke. I asked Barbara if she knew who I was. At first, she didn’t but then it hit her and she said, “Oh, you fucking asshole! I’ve been dealing with you since you left and at that time everything was fine.”

I asked her how life in CT was and she said she wished I were there so she could kick my ass and I just laughed. She also asked me why I sent Debbie shit and what I got against her. I told her that this coming June 15th I’d be there to take care of her. She asked if I was gonna bring my little buddies and then she just basically cussed me out telling me I should’ve died back when I was in the hospital, I don’t know how to be awake, all I know how to do is be up all night.

Andy’s right. After it’s all over is when you wish you’d taped it.

Well, now that I’m 110% sure I’ll never see the remaining ¾ of my picture collection my mom ditched, no matter what anyone says about it, I went and killed off the rest of my collection. I did hang onto a few pictures, but as I said before, I want all of my collection, not part of it. I know what Tammy and my dad would and wouldn’t do, but I also know how my mom operates. It’s totally her style to do something like this to me. One last chance to control and take away something she knows I love.

I don’t know if I wrote about Scott’s past at all yet, but I’ll just go through the whole story. Well, most people can’t remember exactly what they were doing on a certain day 6 months ago. Most people don’t keep journals like I do. He once had a couple million that his ex-wife fucked him completely out of. His ex and a detective framed him for arson which he never committed. While he was out of state getting a speeding ticket by the highway patrol, a house on his street was being lit on fire. Somehow his ex and this detective made it look like he did it and he ended up in jail for two years. Meanwhile, his dad got a letter about this ticket he never paid. He noticed it was at the same time this fire was lit and they gathered a successful appeal and he got out of prison. While in prison, his ex destroyed all his tax, business and work records from the businesses he owned as well as stole all his money. Right at this moment, he’s trying to gather all the proof he needs to show the IRS he did pay his taxes from 1986 to 1991. He has a meeting with them next Monday. I have a good vibe that the meeting will go well, but if it doesn’t I won’t be able to type for him this last month while I still live here and I’ll have to return to Sha Na Na’s. We’ll see. In the meantime, he knows 3 people from his church who are probably interested in taking over my lease if he can’t get his old roommate to take it. My lease isn’t up till June 31st, said Stacey, but there’s no way I’m gonna stay here till then.

Scott just moved into the same complex I’m going to be moving into. It’s a concrete structure, rather than a wooden one like this place is. It’s 10 minutes away from here in the very northern part of the city. Scott has a 2-bedroom which is about 930 square feet for $535 a month. He got a 2-bedroom in case he ever has his son Matthew with him. I saw the 2-bedroom model as well as a model of the 730 square foot 1-bedroom on the 3rd floor. Like here, I guess the 2-bedrooms go up to 2 floors and 1-bedrooms go to 3. Who knows about their studios?

The name of the complex is Crystal Creek. Andy will call it Crystal Creep or Crystal Crotch, no doubt. Scott says it’s very very quiet there. It has a lot of features - washer, dryer, free cable, big microwave, dishwasher, frost-free refrigerator, large walk-in closet, huge storage closet off of a huge private patio, French doors, vaulted ceilings, fireplace, lush landscaping with waterfalls and little wooden bridges you walk over, tons of cactuses and palm trees, 2 pools, 2 spas, covered parking, exercise room and courtesy patrol. All for $425 a month!

It’s gorgeous there and my address will be something like East Bell Rd. My phone number oughta be the same unless they don’t have this 589 exchange out there.

I told my family about this as well as about Capitol Records and they’re very very happy for me. I also hope to move by the 1st of April, or sooner.

Later…

As far as Velma’s concerned, I’m extremely disappointed and pissed off. Every now and then I am fooled by a person’s character. Other than when it comes to money, she’s a generous and friendly person. But obviously, when it comes to money, she’s a selfish, stingy little fuck. I gave her $60 to do my hair which never worked out right, as it doesn’t with everyone. She took it personally. I told her to grow up and realize that even though there are no guarantees, I want a partial refund. I should be happily compensated in some way. I told her to get me a straightening iron and I’d still be out some money cuz the thing will only cost $15 to $30 bucks. She doesn’t have to pay back the difference cuz she took 4 hours to do the procedure. She can keep the $15 I never should’ve given her for her birthday. She said we should do it over again, but no way. We’d just waste our time cuz if it didn’t work once it’s not gonna work a second time and my hair’s fried enough. So, obviously the selfish, stingy little shit can’t be that hard up for customers, cuz she could’ve kept me as a customer to do my bangs and I’d buy hair care products from her, too. So, unless she calls me to take my offer which is fair, I want nothing to do with her or people like her.

Later…

I haven’t heard from Celeste, nor do I want to for two reasons. One is that she’s into drugs, and the other’s that I think her husband Joe’s not gonna be able to keep out of it so easily. Their best bet is to get someone bi and who’s also on drugs or who doesn’t care about them being into drugs. In the end, though, I do appreciate their honesty. I want someone bi or gay where there’s mutual attraction. I also want someone who’s not committed to anyone, male or female, and who doesn’t want to be. Well, I just may possibly have that with two women I met at the club. They’re not other dancers, they came in as customers.

One’s name is Leanne, though her real name is Sarah. She’s bi and has been with 3 other women. She’s 23 and 6 feet tall with dyed, yet natural-looking blond hair and blue eyes. Her weight is just right. We’ve had some very nice talks on the phone, but haven’t gotten together yet. She’s been moving out of her own apartment and back in with her mom.

The second one is Julia Z and she’s a gorgeous Mexican, my favorite, and her hair’s even longer than mine! It’s thick, dark and curly. She’s 5 feet tall with dark eyes and she’s a little thinner than Leanne. I think she’s 23 too, but she’s never been with a woman before but has thought about it a lot. She called me once, but I don’t yet know when we’ll be getting together. Here’s the shocker about these girls. They don’t like butches, don’t do drugs, they find me attractive, and don’t want kids for the same reasons I don’t.

Andy got up next door very much less noisy. Gee! I wonder why?

Later…

I’m still awake and I wish I could be all day. It’s gonna be a beautiful day out and I want to go to the pool and get some color.

I forgot to mention that I called Omar to tell him I was putting him on hold and why. I explained my situation.

I also called Tammy and told her everything that’s been going on.

I hope that this Sunday Scott can get someone in here by the 15th.

Yesterday I called and spoke to a woman at Crystal Creek who said that if I moved in on the 15th, they could pro-rate my rent. Meaning, I’d pay half a month.

Andy’s got the day off so he’ll probably go apartment hunting again today like he did yesterday. He doesn’t think I’ll have sex with Leanne or Julia cuz either they’ll cancel or I’ll chicken out. No, I definitely won’t chicken out knowing they’re attractive and after speaking to them. If we don’t get together, it’ll be due to a problem on their end only.

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emmyrosee · 2 years ago

Text

Kiyoomi hates sleeping on couches, and would rather not sleep at all if it comes down to it.

He’s knows it’s selfish, okay, it’s just this absolute rejection his body has to the lumpiness of the cushions to settle down, it’s like he can’t.

There’s so much… ick on couches, because people are just so nasty; he’s not even so big on germs, but couches are uncharted territory. One time in college, his roommate was getting busy, and when he asked a buddy to crash on the apartment couch, there was a block of instant noodles jammed in the cushions. He never asked about it, but Kiyoomi still has no idea why.

Sometimes, if practice runs far too late, he’ll crash at Bokuto’s, who’s couch is clean enough but absolutely reeks of lemon basil air freshener, and it sends Kiyoomi into an asthmatic fit.

When Atsumu’s sick, he’s has a tendency to just leave snot-filled tissues around, and all it took was one tissue to fall from the blankets on top of the backrest to keep Kiyoomi from ever even sitting on the furniture again.

(“It was an honest mistake! I get it cleaned every time I get sick-“

“Don’t care,” Kiyoomi snaps. “Never. It’s not just about how disgusting that is. You’re feral.”)

And above all, beds are just more comfortable than a couch- some floors are too, he’s convinced, but that’s not the point. There’s an emotional comfort in a bed, curled up in the sheets and warmth where negative thoughts cannot tred. He came to that conclusion during a particularly rough anxiety spell, and he never got the chance to learn any of the healthy coping skills his therapist tried to teach him.

That’s why you’re now sleeping on the couch.

It was a slip of his tongue when his blood was still boiling, he told you to go away after he’d already locked the door of your bedroom to keep you away. In his mind, he’d called ‘dibs’ on the bedroom to keep himself from getting banished to the couch, despite you never doing that to him regardless of how intense of a fight- you always let him curl on his side of the bed, facing away from you.

He knows it’s because you can’t sleep without him, but Kiyoomi is now coming to the conclusion that he can’t sleep without you, either.

Onyx eyes blink helplessly at the wall, wracking his mind for answers and clarity on how to fix this. He hears you sniffling just down the hallway, he’s such an asshole for doing this to you. The argument ended two hours ago, it’s three in the morning, yet his words stung plenty enough to still have you sobbing.

He tries, fuck, he tries so hard to force his eyes shut to get any semblance of sleep, but the cracking of your voice as you wail keeps him from even trying. The lump in his throat catches with every forced swallow he allows down, and his fingers fist his pillow to keep himself composed.

He fucked up. God, he fucked up bad.

He knows you’re probably cold, you’re more than likely sore from the cushions, your head is probably pounding from your hour long sobs. He knows you’re probably trying to keep it down too, and that only makes him feel more guilty. He’d happily be struck by lightning if it meant you two could swap places, or at least have you back in your shared bed.

Because Sakusa Kiyoomi hates sleeping on couches.

But he hates you doing it even more.

Part two here!

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farfromharry · 3 years ago

Text

Beth [ 4 ] | Dad!Eddie Munson series

Four, The birthday girl

Word count - 6772

Warnings - nothing i dont think

a/n - after this part theres lots of timeskips that just show important moments, but after the series is over im planning on doing a blurb night thing for any small moments anyone wants to see :)

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

April 1990

Even after all the struggle he went through, balancing a baby right as he finished school, his life plans having changed and the difficulty that came with raising a child, he wouldn’t change a thing. Four years later and his baby girl was the most important person in his life. He would do anything for Beth, any single thing she asked. His plans might have had to be altered, but they certainly weren’t going to change altogether. As soon as Eddie had made enough money from his diner job, he’d planned to be out of that place and living his dream with Beth by his side. But for now, he was enjoying the time he spent with her in Hawkins surrounded by his friends.

The morning of her fourth birthday was one of much excitement. Eddie had been woken up with the girl bouncing on his bed, rousing him from his sleep. He groaned quietly, trying to see the clock on his wall to see what time it was. Beth had pretty much no concept of time, so it could be four am or it could be ten. He prayed for the latter, but knowing her it probably wasn’t.

When he cracked open an eye he noticed she wasn’t looking, so slowly he reached for her waist, startling her when he pulled her down onto the bed. She broke out into a fit of giggles, growing louder when Eddie began to tickle her too. “Daddy, stop!” she laughed, the sound truly music to his ears.

He let her catch her breath as he sneaked a glance at the time, noticing it was only nine. He had to give it to her, she’d actually let him sleep for once. “Happy birthday, sweet girl.” Her smile was wide like it always was as she cuddled into her dad’s chest. He found it so hard to believe that she had already been in his life for four years already, she was growing so much so quickly. He wished time would slow down.

Her head was tucked under his chin, his hand rubbing her back. He was surprised she didn’t fall asleep again in his arms, but he knew his next words would shake any remaining sleep from her body. “I got you something,” he told her, poking her stomach as he got up from the bed. She tried to contain her excitement, but she was practically exploding with joy as she waited for him to grab whatever it was. He’d kept it wrapped under his bed, somewhere he knew she wouldn’t bother looking.

He placed the large box in her lap, watching as she ripped open the paper after she got the okay from her dad. His wrapping wasn’t the best, but he tried his best and he thought he deserved a pat on the back for it. It did the job.

“A guitar!” she gasped, looking at her dad with wide eyes. Every time Eddie had pulled out his guitar in the last year, his little Beth had made a comment about how she wanted a guitar of her own, so he’d saved up and bought her a miniature version of his own for her birthday. “It looks like yours,” she noticed. That piece of information only made her love the gift more. She was a carbon copy of her dad in almost every way and she certainly loved music in the same way he did, knowing she’d be able to play a guitar that was the same as his was thrilling.

“It does,” he said, flickering his attention to his own guitar that hung on his bedroom wall proudly. “Now we match.”

She peered up at him with those doe eyes that made his heart weak. For those eyes he would do literally anything. “Will you teach me how to play?” she asked. There was no way he would ever be able to turn her down on that offer, even if he was sure she would find it a struggle to succeed with some of the songs he knew how to play. Luckily, the song she was named after was easy enough. “Course I will, but not today. We gotta get up and ready for the zoo, birthday girl.”

She nodded, allowing him to stand up before practically throwing herself into his arms. From there he would carry her to the kitchen so the pair could have breakfast. She’d taken him a little off guard when she jumped at him, so naturally he thought to pay for that he had to toss her over his shoulder. Her laughter was loud as she kicked her legs, playfully begging to be let down. But the two of them both knew she loved it.

In the beginning, Eddie had been scared of nearly every move he made as a dad, he now found it all came natural to him. He didn’t need to overthink every single decision, and he didn’t have to worry about if he wasn’t being careful enough. In fact if you looked at him with Beth now compared to how he was four years ago, you’d think Eddie was two completely separate people. Four years ago he never would have been caught dead tossing his child over his shoulder, it would have made him fear for his life. And now, well…

“Okay, you go sit down,” he said, letting her back down to her feet. She stumbled for a second from the sudden dizziness as she tried to regain her balance, earning a laugh from her dad. Once she was stable she basically sprinted to the couch while Eddie rummaged through the almost empty cupboards. “What does the birthday girl want for breakfast? We’ve got frosted flakes or cinnamon toast crunch.”

She hummed loudly as she tried to decide, thinking over her options in her head before she finally came to a conclusion. “Frosted flakes, please.” Usually he wouldn’t even give her the option between the two considering they were two of the most sugary cereals he bought and his little Beth on a sugar rush meant hell, but her birthday was a special occasion, so he supposed it was okay just for today. He poured her a bowl of her choice and decided he would join her in it too, bringing the two bowls over to the couch where he dropped beside her. He made sure she had a good grip so he didn’t end up with milk all over the couch again (it had happened on more than one occasion and Wayne hadn’t been incredibly happy).

The two watched whatever cartoons were on as they ate, not making much conversation. They were both as invested in the colorful show playing as the other, despite the fact that one was a toddler and the other was a twenty-four year old man. But it was only another thing they could bond over so none of them were going to complain.

After breakfast it was time for them to get ready, the dad letting his girl pick out what she wanted to wear for the day. He usually let her do that, Eddie couldn’t put together an outfit to save his life, not for a little girl anyway. She always made herself look much cuter than he could. If he was given more than just an old band tee and some jeans (his go to) then he was helpless. For herself she picked out a pair of denim overalls and a light coloured jumper, he’d force her into another jacket over top so she didn’t get sick also.

Eddie was dressed mostly as normal, though he’d tried to make a bit more of an effort for her. He’d swapped out the band tee for a polo shirt Steve had convinced him to buy a long time ago, however had still paired it with his signature black jeans, chains and leather jacket (plus his jewelry).

Obviously he thought she looked much cuter than he did, hence why he had to take the annual birthday picture of her. There would probably be a lot of pictures throughout the day and he didn’t care that it made him look like an overbearing mom. He didn’t have many pictures as a young child for him to look back on, though that changed with Wayne, but he wanted Beth to have those.

When the picture was out of the way he only had one other thing left to do, the bird's nest she called hair.

“Let’s tame that hair, huh?” he muttered, brushing his hand over the top of it. This was one of her least favorite parts of getting ready. She always whined that Eddie was brushing her hair too recklessly and that it hurt, even though he was trying to be as gentle as possible. But her curls, an exact match to his, just made it impossible. However, he always gave her an incentive. If she let him fix her hair with minimal complaints and restrictions, she could choose how he styled his hair for the day. “What style do we want?”

“Pig tails!” she squealed, already prepared with her answer straight after he asked the question. He smiled, grabbing two hair ties from his dresser. He wasn’t the greatest at hair by far, but over the years he’d gotten much better, he just couldn’t braid at this point, she’d surely surpass him in her own talents soon anyway. “Want you to have the same,” she said.

He didn’t necessarily mind. He would do anything for his Beth, even if he was probably going to get laughed at by his friends for showing up with his hair in two low pigtails. “Whatever you want, your highness.” Through the mirror he could see that she was beaming, happy she had gotten the answer she wanted. There wasn’t a large part of her that expected him to reject her suggestion, but it was still pleasant to know that he wanted to match with her as much as she wanted to match with him.

Once her hair was done he moved to do his own, following a similar method until the pair looked like twins. She found it very amusing, giggling loudly as the two kept their heads next to each other in the mirror. “Y’look so pretty, daddy.”

He grinned, turning his head to press a smooch to her cheek. “So do you, my sweet girl.” There was a couple minutes where she couldn’t help messing with his hair, tugging on the pig tails until he shooed her hands away, poking at her stomach instead. “Come on, Steve and Dustin should be here soon.”

He gathered their stuff, making sure her jacket and backpack were on firmly before leading her out of the trailer. She held tightly onto his hand as they reached the steps, the same ones she insisted on jumping down all the time just to prove that she could. He always cheered for her when she landed on her feet at the bottom, telling her she did a great job. However, what he wouldn’t tell her was that without the death grip she had on his hand then she probably wouldn’t land it. He was the only thing preventing her from hurting herself.

The two waited for the familiar BMW to show, not having to go too long until it was pulling up in front of them. Dustin climbed out of the passenger seat, already anticipating the love he was about to receive from the mini Eddie.

“Dusty,” Beth called, rushing into his arms where he welcomed her into a hug. “Baby muns, I’ve missed you.”

Eddie watched from the bottom of the trailer steps with a warm smile as the pair reunited. With Dustin busy with his senior year he hadn’t seen his favorite baby Munson in a couple weeks. She had certainly missed him and he had missed her, so he was happy to have a break where he could spend her birthday with her. The same went for Max who was heading over from her neighboring trailer. Although, sometimes when Eddie had to quickly run out, he’d leave Beth under the watchful eye of a studying Max for just a few minutes.

Once the little girl realized her favorite redhead was also in her presence she was even more excited, rushing more than her little body could handle to give her a hug. “Let’s wrap it up kiddos, we need to get moving,” Steve called from the front seat, trying to usher them all into the car. The male teen moved to climb back into his seat once their reunion was over, only for Eddie to scold him and tug him back by the shirt collar. “Where d’you think you’re going?” he asked.

He didn’t like that he’d tugged him, so he got his own back, yanking on one of the pig tails in Eddie’s hair. “Uh, back to my seat?” It wasn’t appreciated by the older man, a scowl finding its way to his face as he pushed Dustin’s shoulder as payback and then fixed his hair.

Beth was watching them both with curiosity. “Nuh-uh, the adult is here now. Get in the back.”

If it was anyone else Dustin would have probably tried to argue. But he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with how irritably stubborn Eddie Munson is. It was so much easier to just accept things than make it a fight that dragged out for hours. At least if he sat in the back he’d be able to talk to Beth a little more. Max could be heard snickering from behind as she took the seat on the other side of the little girl.

In the car the three kids were lost in their own world of conversation, which worked out well

for Steve and Eddie because they found themselves in a very fond one discussing you. Steve had brought you up, asking if his friend had grown the balls to make a move yet, but the other just pretended like he had no idea what he was talking about. The topic was quickly dropped, but the redness that had gravitated to Eddie’s face was still there for a while. It was an awkward silence hanging around the car for a little bit until Beth asked if they could put some music on, and of course all four of them would do anything for her.

The rest of the ride was filled with the soft sounds of angel eyes by ABBA playing through the car's speakers, as well as the quiet conversation that was made between Dustin and Beth every so often. She could be speaking complete nonsense to him, but he was happy to entertain whatever it was she was talking about.

Upon arrival at the zoo, Beth naturally drifted towards Robin, the two having had an odd connection that began the day they met for the first time. There was something about the older girl that just provoked a sense of calm in the toddler. The pair walked hand in hand for the first ten or so minutes around the zoo, equally giddy about all the animals they were seeing, specifically the snakes. They liked making fun of the fact that Eddie was certainly not a fan of them, keeping his distance from the glass. Around the same time the girl had complained that her bag was heavy, Eddie taking it from her with a smile and carrying it on his own shoulder instead. It earned a few laughs from Dustin and Steve who really thought the pink, sparkly backpack completed the look he’d started with his pig tails.

Beth looked in awe of every animal she saw, but she spent the most time gazing up at the penguins with a childish wonder that was just precious. At each exhibit after the snakes Eddie would be crouched behind her, holding her tiny body and reading off the facts on the information cards on the glass. He didn’t even know it was possible for her to be more amazed, but upon finding out the black and white creatures could become makeshift sleds by sliding on their bellies on the ice, her eyes grew wider than he’d ever seen, a large toothy grin on her face.

“Daddy, can we try that?” she asked, cheerfully. Eddie turned fearfully towards his group of friends, silently asking them how he was supposed to respond to that kind of question. He didn't want to go full dad mode and say no, but it was April and near freezing, she would a hundred percent catch a cold if she tried. But he also wanted to let her have fun. “Tell you what, B, in summer I’ll get you the fastest water slide we can find, huh?”

Thanks to her skewy conception of time, she didn’t know that was still months away, and hopefully for Eddie’s sake she will have forgotten by then, but it was good enough to tide her over for now. “Good save,” Robin muttered.

He rose to his feet, smiling proudly to himself as he thanked her despite the obvious sarcasm her tone was drenched in. Beth ran to another one of the group members while the dad was distracted, finding herself tugging on the end of Steve’s shirt to ask silently if he would pick her up. One thing the toddler loved was being held, whether it was for cuddles or being carried around, she just adored it; she was almost never out of someone’s arms, mainly Eddie and Steves.

The Harrington boy carried the girl anywhere she wanted to go, and her next stop had to be the monkeys. Even the man was amazed as he gazed at them, him and Beth sharing the same expression of wonder. Eddie was so enamored with the smile on his baby girl’s face that he knew he had to take a picture. He ushered them into a stance where he could see both them and the animals behind them.

“Show me that pretty smile,” he said. His eyes rolled so far into the back of his head as Steve grinned brighter rather than his daughter. He almost physically facepalmed. “No, not you Steve, I meant Beth.”

The second best part of her day apart from seeing the penguins, had to be the gift shop. Of course it was, how could it not be when she managed to swindle Steve out of money and take him for the sucker he was. Eddie was such a proud dad at that moment even if Harrington was basically steaming with rage. At least it made for an amusing memory for everyone else.

It started when he stole her away from the group after he spotted a pretty girl with some friends in the shop. It was coming towards the end of the zoo trip so Beth’s sugar crash that had been building since this morning was making her tired and compliant. She wouldn’t wake up again until she got the ice cream she’d been promised on their way out. At first the group thought he was just offering to carry her because she was tired, but they understood there was an ulterior motive when he sped off and struck up a conversation with some woman. Eddie had sighed, but it wasn’t the first time he’d had Steve pretend she was his daughter to try and pick up women. She was used to it, as was he. Even though he’d told him a hundred times to knock it off, it continued happening.

Not everyone had seen it before though. Dustin was watching with deep curiosity, trying to decipher what was going on. “What do you think he’s saying?” the kid asked Eddie, eyeing Steve as he cradled Beth and spoke to the woman in front of him. She seemed as though she liked the sight of the man with the child.

“I’m King Steve, I’m pretending this adorable baby’s my daughter, please go out with me because I’m a fake single dad,” he mocked. The curly haired boy looked at him with a furrowed brow and a slightly opened mouth, shocked to hear such a condescending tone coming from Eddie. He grew defensive upon earning that look, muttering a quiet, “What?”

After Steve, actually successfully for once, got the lady’s number, he let Beth back down to her feet, bending down to her height. The sleepy toddler was beginning to wake up a little and was slowly gravitating towards Erica who had joined them. Those two, despite their prevalent age gap, got on like two peas in a pod.

“Look, if you don’t tell your dad about this, I’ll buy you any plushie in here you want,” he told her. He thought the odds were good considering she was only four, but she had been spending way too much time with Erica and Dustin to settle at that– mainly Erica. Beth hesitated, looking over her shoulder to where Sinclair was watching. The older of the two shook her head, essentially telling her Steve’s offerings were shitty and he needed to do better.

He watched the exchange, but was curious as to what she’d come up with. “Two plushies,” she said, glancing at Erica to check that was okay. The teen only raised her eyebrows, encouraging her to continue. “And five dollars.” With a final look casted back she had earned the approval of the youngest Sinclair, a grin creeping its way onto her face now that she knew she did good.

Steve’s jaw gaped, scoffing in disbelief that he was actually standing here bargaining with a four year old. This wasn’t the first time he’d been swindled by the specific Sinclair either. “Y’know what Munson, fine. You got a deal.” He shook her tiny hand, pulling a five dollar bill from his wallet to hand to her. Then it was time for her to pick out two animal plushies she liked. Her selections ended up being a penguin and a lion. “But I seriously miss when you couldn’t talk.”

She was beaming as he handed them to her, and she didn’t stick around long as she rushed off to find her father. Eddie was more than happy to scoop her up in his arms when she reached him, letting her rest on his hip. “What are these?” Eddie asked, feigning shock as if he hadn’t just witnessed Steve buy them for his daughter. She delved into the story about what the Harrington man had been doing, as in using her as a way to pick up women; even if he failed. Although he’d made her promise not to tell her dad, she couldn’t help herself, she told him everything.

She held up the penguin plushie first. “This one’s mine. It’s a penguin.” Then with her other hand she held up the lion, her father’s soon to be favorite zoo animal. “This one’s yours. A lion ‘cause you have the same hair,” she laughed. As a kid he’d never really had the chance to pick one he liked that much, but now that Beth had made that comparison, it was pretty solidified which one he loved now. “I got them from Stevie in the deal we made.”

Steve just watched on with a feeling of betrayal in his chest, cursing the entire Munson name. “Oh, and he gave me five dollars. Can we use it to get ice cream?” Eddie had never been so proud of the girl. He didn’t approve of Steve using her as a pickup line, and the guy knew that but did it anyway, so he was at least happy in the knowledge that if he was going to continue to do it against the dad’s wishes, then his baby was working hard and getting something out of it too. He’d have to remember to thank Erica later for helping her out.

“Of course we can.” He waited until Steve was in ear shot to make another comment. “Isn’t Steve so generous, buying us all ice cream.” He earned himself a middle finger, one that made him gasp dramatically and reach to cover Beth’s eyes.

Robin tutted mockingly at Steve. “Not in front of the baby, Harrington. No ice cream for you.”

He rolled his eyes, trailing behind the group the entire way as they approached the ice cream cart just outside of the zoo. He had a scowl on his face as Robin kept to his word and refused to buy him an ice cream despite the fact they were using his money. At the least though he could acknowledge that the happiness all over Beth’s face was adorable, especially when she had the sugary treat smushed all around her mouth.

The joy he’d felt throughout the day was quickly returned with the little girl’s laughter, the group of seven absorbing the final bits of excitement that came along with their day out before they made their way home. She was certainly going to be exhausted tonight. Eddie was expecting her out like a light by eight at the latest.

When the pair returned home they had plans to watch a movie with Wayne, the man having taken a day shift for once so he could spend time with his granddaughter for her birthday. Eddie told him he didn’t have to, but he did greatly appreciate it after seeing the smile on her face when she got home. She was straight into the older man’s arms, telling him all about all the animals she’d seen and showing off the plushies she’d got.

He entertained her ramblings while Eddie slipped the video into the vhs player, gathering some snacks and stuff for them from the kitchen.

As expected the girl was falling asleep halfway through the movie, and to be honest so was Eddie. She was laid across his lap, her head resting on the arm of the couch where her eyes were fighting invisible weights trying to stay open. He smiled down at the sight of her, brushing his thumb over her cheek as his own eyes drooped. “Y’tired, sweet girl?”

She nodded. “Let’s get you to bed.” Since she had outgrown her crib the girl had been sleeping in Eddie’s bed while he took the couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable place for him, but he put her comfort over his own anyday. He’d surely find a better solution at some point, but for now it worked and that was all that mattered.

It was difficult getting a sleepy toddler into pajamas, but he managed it in record time, helping her under the covers one she was ready for bed. “Y’got your penguin?” he asked.

She showed it to him, nice and cuddled in her arms. “Did you have a good birthday?” he asked, stroking her hair as she clutched the stuffie Steve had got her. She was too tired for words right now, so she just nodded in response to his question. He was glad, all he’d wanted was for his baby to have the best birthday he could give her. “Well, get some rest, y’look like you need it, baby.”

She smiled, nodding her head again. “G’night daddy. I love you.”

He leaned forward and placed a kiss onto her forehead, pulling the blanket all the way up to her chin. “I love you too.”

The day after her birthday he was due back at work, promising the little girl he’d see her that night around closing time. She never liked it when he left her for that long, they were basically attached at the hip at this stage in her life. He left at midday and wouldn’t see her again until almost midnight. He was always amazed she even managed to stay awake that long, but a quick nap in the afternoon would have her energetic enough to greet her dad after a long day, only to crash on the way home.

He was itching to see her again even the second after he left her, but of course he had to deal with customers all day long first, and of course he had the worst possible luck.

The first table of the day he had of course housed Jason Carver and his old friends. They noticed him right away, familiar evil smirks growing on their faces, it seemed as though they hadn’t changed in the four years they hadn’t seen each other. “Ah, freak, see you’re still in this shithole.” He thought he had escaped the basketball team at graduation. They had all taken off to different colleges around the country on various scholarships and such, giving Eddie a little bit of much needed peace from them.

He ignored Jason’s taunting, pulling out his pen to take their orders like he would do with anyone else. “What d’you want assholes?” he asked, trying to hold back the eye roll. He knew he was supposed to treat the customers kindly so his attitude didn’t reflect badly on the diner, but he would never have that kind of patience with this group of people. Plus if he called you over he knew you would be on his side anyway.

Jason scoffed, feigning disgust. “Is that anyway to speak to a customer?”

You were watching from behind the counter as the four guys tormented poor Eddie. Unlike him, you didn’t know them, hadn’t met them within the halls of Hawkins high or had the pleasure of disagreeing with them like he had. You didn’t really know what they were capable of or what to expect, so you planned to keep an eye on them and how they treated the man.

After he took their order with their minimal awful things said about them in his head, he headed back over to the counter where you were wiping it down. You heard him let out a deep sigh as he tore off the page in his notepad to pass back to the kitchen. Then he was heading towards you to complain, as both of you did whenever there was a particularly rude customer.

“God, I hate them,” he said, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. He heard you laugh, which was accompanied by you abandoning your task so he could feel your hand tangling in his hair. “I can kick ‘em out if you want. I am the manager after all.” Although it sounded like a very promising idea, he knew he wouldn’t live it down as long as they were still in town. They’d probably go around and tell anyone that would listen that Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson had let someone else fight his own battles by kicking them out of the diner.

“Can’t I just spit in their food or something?” He was probably joking, keyword probably, but you did believe if you gave him the okay then he would go and do it. That was why you had to outwardly deny that he could just in case. “No, but we’ll get ‘em back somehow, Ed, don’t you worry.”

He trusted you, continuing to do his job serving them their food no matter how much he wanted to hit at least one of them in the face. It seemed as though they just became more and more unbearable as seconds passed. He was honestly amazed at how they were managing it. In the span of the less than an hour they’d been there, from start to end he’d argue they were a thousand times less tolerable.

He was still grumbling to himself when he came back saying they wanted their check. They’d clearly rattled him considering he’d been pretty happy when he started his shift earlier, so like a good friend would, you offered to take it and sort it out. What you didn’t tell him at first was that you planned to leave a pretty generous tip for him paid for by Jason. You felt it was the least he could do after the way he’d treated your friend. It didn’t take much, just a bit extra added on to their meals and such and they’d never know.

Eddie was confused when you sent them out with a wave and a smile on their way out, but the evil grin on your face told him you were scheming.

“What did you do?” he inquired, eyeing you and your suspicious demeanor.

You handed him some of the dollars you’d been given by his rival, laughing at the crease that appeared between his brows. “It’s for you. Jason left a very kind tip for his old friend.”

His jaw gaped. “Y/N, isn’t that like, illegal?” he asked, glancing down at the money in his hand to the cash you were putting in the register. He watched you shrug, letting out a loud laugh. “It’s not like he’ll notice. It’s probably daddy’s money anyway.”

He sighed, letting his lips finally curl into a grin at the knowledge you’d risk committing an illegal act just to get back at someone for him. You were a little shocked when he placed both his hands on the sides of your cheeks, leaning in to place a loud kiss to your cheek as a thank you. “You are a badass.”

The rest of your shift panned out as normal, the two of you even sharing a milkshake at one point after neither of you could be bothered to make a second one. All you were waiting for was when closing would hit and you got to see the precious smile of that little girl you adored so much.

Beth usually came in after or around closing time. Wayne brought her over, her hand firmly clutched in her grandpas as they entered the diner. She didn’t see her dad at first considering he was in the kitchen, but she let out a squeal when she saw you, rushing in your direction. You briefly greeted the older man before turning your attention to the small child.

“Hey kiddo, missed seeing you yesterday.” You leaned over the counter so you could ruffle her hair. She scrunched up her nose as you did so, giggling quietly as she shooed your hand away and smoothed her hair back down. Wayne helped her up onto one of the barstools, meaning she was now much closer to your height and she could see you better.

“We went to the zoo!” she cheered. You gasped, “You did? Did you have fun?” You were moving around behind the counter like a second nature, sliding a plate in front of Wayne with his regular late night snack that would keep him going for the first few hours he worked. He thanked you quietly, not wanting to interrupt the story his granddaughter was telling. When she was excited like this it was never wise to cut her off for anything. She was like Eddie when it came to all the sass she had.

The father came out to the front of the diner near the end of her story, grinning at the sight of his daughter. He didn’t cut her story off, just placed a kiss on the top of her head and let her continue. Subconsciously, she leaned back on her chair so she was resting against his chest, letting him know in her own way that she knew he was there.

“So, I heard, it was a special little girl’s birthday yesterday,” you began, trying to bite back your smile. You didn’t yet want to give away the surprise you had for her, the one that even Eddie didn’t know about. He watched the two of you interact with a warm heart. Over the years you had formed a bond with the little girl that he adored to see and in turn his feelings towards you had grown tremendously from when he first met you. “And I got her something.”

He wouldn’t say it in front of Beth but he’d definitely tell you later that you didn’t have to do that. For you it wasn’t that you felt like you had to, but you’d wanted to. She’d been the light of your day for pretty much three years and you wanted to do something nice for her birthday. You disappeared into the kitchen for only seconds, coming back with a decorated cake that had a ‘4’ candle lit on top.

She gasped as you set it down in front of her, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the pretty decorations. You’d learned from Eddie that she had a bit of a thing about tulips since she was a baby, so you worked hard with some icing to make some pretty good looking different coloured tulips. “Make a wish, sweetheart.”

As she blew out the candle the three of you clapped, cheering quietly for her. She bathed in the attention happily. That was all quickly followed shortly by Wayne’s departure, work calling. You offered your goodbyes before moving to cut a slice of the cake for the eager little girl, you and Eddie deciding to share one after the food you’d already sneaked today from the kitchen.

Now that Beth was distracted you turned to talk to the man. Business had picked up towards the end of the night and you had barely had any chance to communicate for hours. You loved talking to him while you were working, he often made shifts more tolerable and vice versa. At first he was too busy complementing your baking skills to even realize you had been planning on saying something, but he grew bashful when he noticed your amused stare. “Sorry, go on.”

“Did you have fun at the zoo?” you asked while she dug into her slice of cake. He grinned, leaning on the counter opposite you. “I did, we had a little daddy-daughter day, plus some friends. Thank you for the day off.”

He saw the way your face contorted, your features scrunching in a look of confusion. As he thought over what he said he didn’t know which part could have caused a misunderstanding, but he was sure he was about to find out. “Wait, wait. She’s your daughter?”

“Is this a joke? Are you playing with me?” he asked.

You shook your head, your entire face looking like you had just had the biggest revelation the world had ever seen. It should have been obvious– it was obvious now that you thought about it, but for some reason you had just never put two and two together and now you felt a little bit dumb. Heat was rising to your face as you hid behind your hands, listening to the sounds of Eddie’s amused laughter as he realized you were being serious. “I thought she was your sister or Wayne’s kid or something,” you weakly muttered. His smile only kept growing, despite the lingering fear in his chest that now you knew he was a dad things would change between you two. He didn’t know if he could handle your friendship becoming awkward, especially not when he was already struggling with his blossoming feelings.

The feelings between the two of you went unspoken for the sake of your jobs, plus a little bit of fear. “That’s not– It’s not a bad thing, right?” You could tell from his tone that he felt like he was trying to tread lightly when he asked.

You jumped in quickly to reassure him. “No, no of course not. It explains a lot actually. You both have the same puppy dog eyes.” The tips of his ears tinted pink at that. It wasn’t the ‘compliment’ itself that made him blush, but it was the fact you had taken enough time to look at him to notice the kind of eyes he had. He liked the thought of you looking at him.

Now that the fear was pushed aside, he could focus on the fact that you were still clearly embarrassed over your mistake. He pulled you into a hug, still chuckling as he rested his chin on the top of your head. Your face was firmly hidden in his chest, not wanting to be seen by anyone at all for the next five years. “You’re adorable,” he said. The cake was long since abandoned on the counter, and Beth was watching the two of you but didn’t really care to question the sudden burst of affection.

You supposed you learned something new everyday, and with this new found knowledge it actually only made their relationship ten times cuter. It made him a little bit cuter too..

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson

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