Arlo
After class, I make it back to my condo that I share with two other roommates, Zach and Derek. We're lucky since the three of us can combine our funds every month and afford a place like this, but since I'm still in school and only have a part-time job, I struggle with coughing up my share. I'm an assistant to a major department at the university. It's mostly just busy work, but it gives me a paycheck.
I step inside and close and lock the front door behind me. Our entrance immediately opens into a hallway with stairs on the right that leads to three bedrooms. On the first floor, down the hallway, is the laundry, another small room that we use for gaming, and finally opens into the kitchen and living room. It's sparsely furnished, mainly because we're dudes and don't need coffee or end tables. There is a curved brown leather couch with seats that recline. A giant plasma screen sits mounted to the wall and I've always wondered why we haven't moved this one into the gaming room.
In the kitchen, I hear a voice coming through the cracked sliding door that leads outside to our porch. That's Derek since I can see the buzz cut and the back of his head through the glass. He graduated last year with a degree in finance and works the typical nine-to-five job Monday through Friday. From what I understand, he loves it and stares at a computer screen all day with little people-to-people interaction. It's just the way he prefers it.
Zach must not be home, as he works the third shift on a factory assembly line. He is the opposite of Derek since Zach never went to college. I can't help but wonder if I made the right decision because Zach earns the most out of all of us, but who knows if that will last. He works horrendous hours, 12 hours a shift to be exact, and he says working nights pays more.
I grab a soda from the refrigerator and walk over to the sliding glass door, hearing Derek's familiar voice. He has his phone up to his ear and is wearing blue pajamas. It's late, almost 11:00 p.m.
"I told you that you would like him," Derek says into the phone. I step onto the porch and into the breeze. "You bet. Let me know how he does. Of course, I want to know."
Is he talking about me? And that guy that gave me the business card? Don't be so paranoid, damn. I jump to conclusions way too much, but doesn't everybody? "Hey," I say when Derek hangs up the phone and turns around.
"Oh, Arlo, I didn't hear you get home," he says. He gives me a look like he's hiding something. We've all been roommates for years, so we know almost everything about each other. Yet that expression on his face isn't a welcome home smile; it's an I'm hiding something and not going to tell you smile.
"Yeah, I just got in. Who were you talking to?" My paranoia is getting the best of me.
"Work," he says, waving his cell phone. "I recommended a recruit for our firm, and he's doing well. I'm making sure I get that untaxed referral bonus in three months."
That seems believable. "Makes sense," I finally say.
"How was class?" he asks.
We both head back inside, trying not to let the bugs in while we do. "Boring as usual."
Derek laughs. "I always hated night classes, too. Might as well bring a cot and sleep, especially with the professor you have."
I walk over, plop down on the couch, and turn on the television for background noise. "Right? How does that professor still have a job?"
Derek walks back over, holding a cold beer that he cracks open. Then he sits on the other end of the sofa. "I thought he would have been fired by now."
"Just my luck," I say, staring at whatever commercial plays on the screen.
"Do you want one?" Derek asks, referring to his beer.
I look over and shake my head. "No, thanks." Unfortunately, both Derek and Zach are the party type, and me? Not so much. It's not that I don't enjoy it. I never have fun and immediately want to leave a party whenever I get there. Not only that, but I haven't found a drink that I like. Everything tastes too bitter, and they jokingly call me a sissy for that. I'm shocked these two allowed me to be their roommate, considering I'm not wild like them.
That doesn't stop them from trying to break me out of my comfort zone. They try at least once a week, and honestly, I might say yes next time the opportunity presents itself rather than give them some lame excuse that doesn't exist. "I'm going to turn in and catch up on a paper before bed. Just wanted to say hi," I say, standing up from the couch.
Derek flips through the television channels before pressing the home screen, unsure what to watch. "Sure, Zach is working third again, so he won't be back until morning."
I nod. "Yeah, I figured."
"Night, man," Derek says.
"Night." We bump fists, and I go upstairs to wind down. My room is the last door on the right at the end of the hallway. It's a simple bedroom with a queen-size bed, a bookshelf filled with all my textbooks for current and previous classes, a nightstand, and a nice double window. The blinds are closed, and I walk over and pull the curtains. Luckily, this room has a bathroom, which I immediately head into and shower.
Once settled in, I stare at the white business card in my hand. I can't reach out now since it is past midnight. No one will answer if I call. And if I leave a message at 12:04 in the morning, that sounds too desperate, and whatever offer this is might disappear before I even talk to someone.
I work on my paper and fall asleep with my laptop open.
The next morning, the sun pushes through the curtains and holy shit, it can't be morning already. Either I slept well or not at all. I'm awoken by my bedroom door opening and banging against the wall. There's already a dent there. I must've forgotten to lock the door and didn't expect to pass out while typing. I close my laptop and move it aside when I hear footsteps run over to the bed.
"Yo!" Zach yells, shaking me out of my comfortable slumber and pleasant dream for once. I squint my eyes up at Zach, who stands nearby.
He has long, blonde hair that extends past his shoulders. I've joked that he would make an excellent rock star or a singer for some heavy metal band. I never see him with any other hairstyle, and his hair is always down, saying his mane needs to stay that way to attract the ladies. That must not work as well as he hoped, considering he's single. He probably barged straight into my room when he got home, given that he still wears his gray work uniform. It's dirty, has his name half-obscured on the left of his shirt, and some buttons are undone with a popped-up collar around his neck.
"What the hell? This is my only day to sleep in," I groan and throw the covers over me, turning away from Zach, who now stands at the side of the bed.
Zach whips the covers off. Whatever, I don't need them, considering I fell asleep in my pajama shirt and pants. "Derek and I are going to Panic."
I turn over so I can look at him. "Didn't you just get off a 12-hour night shift?"
Zach plays with his long hair. "Yeah, and it sucked," he says. "I need a release, and Panic is the place. So come on, throw on some nice clothes and splash some cologne on yourself."
I roll my eyes and flip over, digging into my bed for more comfort. "What the hell is Panic?" I ask without looking at him. "That sounds like a club."
Zach facepalms, and I only know that because I hear his hand smack his face. "Of course, it's a club. Do you want to go?"
I shake my head, keeping my back to him. "Do you think I have any money to tip strippers? I can barely pay my share of the rent."
Zach laughs. "I think the stripper term is outdated... aren't they just dancers now?"
"Like I care," I mutter, still half asleep. I sneeze and realize Zach must be wearing that awful cologne. It smells of acid, rainforest, and mud water, and if he thinks that somehow smells good and will make women grind on him, he needs his nose checked.
"Whatever," Zach says. I hear him walk to the door. "Just lay there all miserable and masturbate by yourself."
I can't move or say anything because he's right. They would go to the club and receive lap dances or whatever the fuck happens there, and I'll still be laying here, wasting the morning and the time I have to myself by pumping my dick to porn that I've saved in my bookmarks. I save anything, videos or pictures, that makes me finish. Don't mind my web browser; there are only a ton of naughty bookmarks in there. That's normal, yeah? Sort of? Ugh... something compels me to rise in my bed. I'm not sure what that is. "Hold up! Let me get ready," I say, throwing the sheets off.
During my self-reflection, Zach must have left the room because he reappears in the doorway. "Yeah! You're coming with us?!"
"No shit! He's going?!" Derek yells. I can't see him, but he must be in the hall. "God damn, about time."
I stand up from the bed and walk to my closet on the other side of my bedroom.
Zach disappears, and Derek walks into my room as I try to find clothes. He's already dressed in a white T-shirt with some logo I don't recognize and a pair of black pants. He rubs his head and says, "I'll give you some damn singles to rain down if you're worried about money."
"Gee, thanks," I say, clinking clothes hangers across the line, trying to find something club-worthy. I'm no expert, but going to Panic at sunrise? That isn't normal, right? I'm pretty sure everyone goes during sunset to be better deviants in the dark. But what the hell do I know? Derek and Zach can answer that for me: nothing.
Derek leans against the door. "Damn, you're useless," he mutters. He walks over and shoves me aside, quickly picking a white polo shirt and a pair of jeans for me. "It's the club, man. Not a fancy dinner. Trust me, the women that'll be grinding on you won't care what you wear."
That's probably true, yet when they realize I can't stuff singles into their thong, I'm sure they'll find someone else. Zach appears again, and I smell him before he enters the room. "You girls ready?" he teases. "Let's go!"
"Yeah, yeah," I grumble. "Let me at least brush my teeth and splash some water on my face."
Zach nods and nudges Derek. "Come on."
Derek looks at me and smacks me on the back. "We'll wait in the car. Don't linger too long."
I nod. "Right."
They both look proud of me like I'm spreading my wings by stepping into a place of sex and sin. That's what makes the world go around.
After staring at myself in the mirror, I ensure no hairs in my nose, my ears are cleaned out, my breath smells good, and my deodorant is on. I avoid the cologne. If I'm near Derek and Zach, their cologne will be enough for all three of us. The last thing I do is run a comb through my dark hair. I look decent and surprise myself with how well I clean up rocking this polo shirt I've never worn. The jeans are a bit tight, but that's okay. My fingernails are trimmed, my face spotless, and I wear chapstick I don't need. My lips aren't dry or cracked, but I can never be too careful.
The honk of a car horn makes me dash out of my bedroom and fly down the stairs.
I find my gym shoes and squat down to put them on. They're brand new, and there's not a smudge on them. My phone dings in my pocket, and I pull it out, inputting my lock code while shoving my wallet with no money into the back of my jeans.
Nesi Perendis sent you a friend request.
"Nesi... do I know a Nesi?" I ask out loud to myself. I tap her picture to load her profile. I'm not someone who blindly accepts requests. Her profile isn't private, so I scroll through some photos, and then it hits me. This was the chick from the restaurant. She sought me out herself. I think back on our last night interaction and remember something about picking on people we like.
Was she seriously telling the truth? Does she like me? She was thinking about me if she searched for me on social media. She seemed different, and acting like she did in a fast-food restaurant, especially where she works, takes a certain confidence. Or maybe she doesn't care about getting fired. Regardless, I toggle to the friend request and accept it, then fly out the front door when car horns threaten to wake the neighborhood.