I think maybe it is true that no bad deed goes unpunished. I'm pretty sure I was breaking a few commandments and a deadly sin or two that night. I can lay claim to the sin of sloth at least. I had a sink full of dishes and a carpet that was desperate for a vacuum.
So what was I doing? You got it. I was writing.
I was drinking to. That was supposed to help me get off my ass and tackle the dishes. But I had to go and try and start a new story while I had that last smoke. Eight cigarettes later I was still writing.
And by the way vodka and orange wine cooler is a horribly disgusting combination. It was all I had in the house to use as a mixer and it was way too cold to run to the store.
I was actually even getting stoned. That's something I hadn't done in long years. Neither the bag nor the one hit was mine. It was "sleeping" over at my house because my friend ran out of time to stop back home and he didn't want any of that stuff on him at work.
I honestly really did mean to just clean some for him as he'd asked. But I've never been very good at resisting temptation.
So that was what I was doing when I heard the soft knock on my door. And then I got flustered and stupid. I hadn't heard the outer door buzz so I just assumed it was the older lady from next door. She can't seem to figure out her new alarm clock so two or three nights a week she taps timidly on my door and begs me to set it for her.
I just hopped off the bed and darted for the front door. I was smart enough to close my bedroom door behind me and for once I was actually dressed to greet company in shorts and a tank top.
Except it wasn't Saphira.
Oh shit. It was that wickedly delicious guy from the building next door. The one with the bedroom/bathroom floor plan identical to mine. That would explain the no buzzer thing. The front door key opened both building doors.
He was holding my glove in one hand. And that would explain the reason for the visit. He must have seen me drop it. Well boring whoop I mock sulked. Like anything ever gets interesting in my world.
Right around then was when things started spinning into insanity. Note to my self never whine about life not being interesting. The end results rarely work to well for me. Usually I end up battered and bruised and some degree of blooded.
His eyes flashed up to meet mine and the relaxed stance instantly dissolved. "Wow, he has got really green eyes." I remember thinking and then realized that the apartment reeked of pot. And I'd only had two hits!
"Miss, I'm gonna have to ask you to step away from the door and back into the apartment. Please keep your hands where I can see them!"
Huh? What the...when I looked back at him he was dropped down into a very professional looking shooters stance, pointing a gun straight at me.
Oh shit, fuck me sideways. I am so totally screwed here. This is really, really bad! I've never even had a parking ticket and now I'm gonna be hauled off to jail for drug possession. My mom is gonna kill me!
I backed meekly down my short hallway and well into the living room. He followed me, and his nose, and flicked open my bedroom door, his eyes pinned on me. I wondered where the second gun had come from. I'd never seen him draw it. He gave the room a fast, encompassing glance, then pulled it back shut.
There wasn't much to see in the room. Just a few dressers and maybe half a dozen book cases. I had a pile of clothes waiting for tomorrow's laundry date.
And then there was this really big bed covered in pale blue flannel sheets with a half dozen pillows scattered about and a hundred year old family quilt kicked to the foot.
And sitting solidly mid center of that bed was a page of green paper full of half cleaned weed.
He stepped away from the bedroom door more fully into the living room.
"No one else here?"
"No, just me Sir."
"Expecting any one?
"Not until late morning."
"You sell that shit?"
"Oh god no, I rarely even do it. It's not even mine! And I know you've heard that a million times and I'm not gonna tell you whose it is so you might as well haul me off to jail."
Oh yeah, this night was just getting better and better. I wasn't going to get my friend in trouble. I was the one this cop had caught. If you're gonna do something stupid you better be adult enough to accept the consequences. I was and I would.
He laughed softly. And suddenly my bad shit radar kicked in HARD.
I couldn't decide why. He still hadn't put either gun away. But they weren't pointing at my chest anymore. And yet I was getting so freaked out I was about ready to dive out my third floor window.
Suddenly, both guns were gone. I blinked. Whoa, hey cool. That was really, really fast. I hadn't seen a thing. They were just gone.
Oh bad thing. Suddenly he was standing about a foot in front of me. This is probably the part where I get hand cuffed and read my rights.
"You-are a cop, right?"
He smirked at me lazily. "Oh yeah, I am a cop. Wanna see my badge? Or maybe my hand cuffs?"
Oh fuck this. If I'm screwed then I'm screwed. But the Irish heathen bitch part of me was hell bent that she wasn't gonna stand around and meekly accept being taunted by this cop.
And one of these days I'm getting my hands around her neck and I'll choke the life out of that psychotic mouthy slut!
I kicked him in the shins.
There didn't seem any reason to even try to run so I just waited from him to slap the cuffs on.
Instead the room whirled and twirled and I slammed up against the wall so hard my head bounced and lights exploded. Fuck. The cop just body slammed me.
I had a brief dazed instant to think this is probably a really not good thing for me and then he was wrapping one hand around my throat, cutting off most of my air supply. The other tangled itself brutally in my waist length curls and yanked my head back hard.
Ouch,and more stars and explosions.
"You're not running the show any more you teasing little bitch!" He snarled.
"What?" I whimpered.
"Keeping your shades always open. And those thongs and the tiny little tank tops you wear. Think it's cute the way you tease me, don't you? You know I'm looking. You know I see you!"
Oh great. He was gonna add my peeping Tom tendencies onto the criminal charges. He always had his shades open to! I wasn't the only pervert here.
"You always looked back!" I whined sullenly.
Ouch, ouch, ouch, wrong choice of words.
"Stop bouncing my head off the fucking wall!" I spat, trying to kick him but he was standing too close. "You're gonna be carrying me down to your squad car and so help me the minute I regain consciousness I'll start screaming police brutality!"
He shot me a tight, mean little smile.
Oh fuck me sideways.
"Not taking you out to a squad car. I'm off duty now."
Oh this wasn't going to be good. At least not for me. Maybe I could just make him have to shoot me. I had a feeling that when all was said and done I might rather go with the shoot me option.
How does this stuff keep happening to me? It was like innocent, innocuous and normal just have this twisted passion to mutate and go all to hell when they get around me. Usually it's not really even my fault. I ended up in the middle of a gang war because of my baby sister. And my best friend suddenly got a mouth and a backbone that she directed at a half dozen street punks who'd been following us. That was something to write about. We ran about a mile jumping over massive cement planters and people sitting on the curb. And then my dad's guards almost shot us when we bolted screaming into his bank. I'm still collecting feedback on that little escapade.
So as usual, what should have happened went all to hell. I would have been better off if he'd just arrested me. Probably been better off even if he'd decided to shoot me.
I think he really did come over with just my glove and no "evil" intentions. I think he meant to try and use that opening to ask me out or something. But then he smelled the pot and everything changed. He could have just let me off with a warning. He could have hauled me off to jail.
