She was coming to again to the sound of something like large birds bickering somewhere down the block, a squawking squealing noise that seemed far outside the window as she pulled herself up to her elbows. Oh how she hated those things, hated the neighborhood, and the other morning noises other than this lovely tower block.
Can kill the birds later, she thought, first the hangover. Besides, Alan would be on his way in perhaps half an hour, maybe a doctors visit tomorrow if this kept up. Dump him if he continues to be a twat - he had left the TV on again, where it was showing some house or another part of a suburban block smoldering itself out. More riots again then or something, same as all summer, still plenty of time. Time enough even to clean up some of the bottles, the rest of the pills, put away some of the larger broken things, maybe even take a shower. Sunday funday after all.
Time for the first hit of some coffee, maybe a jog after lunch. Bank tomorrow to get some cash. Hard now to pull oneself up for a bit, sure, hard clean up a bit of the wreckage from the night before, sure, yet for now it was time to get moving.
Typical stuff.
All was well though…wasn’t it?
She reached slowly over for her phone to double check how much cash she had raked in from the night before, thinking her unease might be something with the funds. Or those birds; they sounded mechanical now. Nope all fine there - little over $800 from yesterday. Not a bad haul considering, yet something still felt a bit off. The booze would be back to visit in a minute, then the tub, and she reminded herself that she would have to clean the sink out too a bit when she was done. Probably had to scrub some of the floor as well, so as not to trouble the maid when she comes tomorrow. Anything to get the wooziness out of her current head.
Off. Something seemed off.
$800 – that wasn’t what was unsettling her though, was it? Or all the stuff with Jacob? Some name certainly was troubling her somewhere, and she was sure it would come back to her soon enough. Had she not hit the booze so hard after ten she might have doubled her haul, but the latest pics of theirs were up on Facebook by then, and one quick look of that hack of mess had been enough to practically jump for the mommy-juice rather than simply reach. Then the hard stuff after, it seemed.
Hold your hair back for a little while now, only just a moment, she told herself, pushing past another bottle.
God’s did her head hurt though. She tried rolling to one side of the couch, finding a wine bottle there too, doing her best to keep from chucking it at the TV which still seemed to be blaring away. Why Alan insisted on having a hard monitor in the flat (let alone leave it on and blaring all the time after he left in the morning) was beyond her. It always seemed like he was hiding the remote too, or else losing it.
Still, the coffee he left was good though: he’d put on the automatic drip, which drowned out the sirens, the flashes of color and whirs and squawks and houses on the morning news, the bright and twinkling of the light from outside. Still all day to go out to that other world for a jog, or walk the dog – now to ease yourself out of the willies.
She looked down at the phone again, wondering again why she still felt a bit off, or if the answers lay somewhere in there. Maybe a few drunk messages from the night before? No. Looking at some of the new pictures of Jacob had been hard, sure, but he’d been uploading shots of him and that girl Kate and that nice new place of theirs for a month now. Looked like any other in the city, looked just like the one the cops were always waiting for her clients in. Another box for another couple of bitches; another day, another dollar.
Maybe a bagel, a bit of salmon from the fridge would help? The bright white of the upper trays hurt her eyes as she stumbled in, the red and the purples all looking a bit too gory for her liking. The bagels were always still in the freezer though, another trick of Alans that continually drove her nuts, the TV still chirping away in the background behind. Maybe he would have to go after all, same as the rest of them. She did her best to keep from puking into the ice cube tray as she searched, stomach gurgling at the thought of what that frozen mess would be like if served fresh on a toothpick.
Ben.
Something about looking at the ice cream had reminded her of a name, and with it she thought again of her phone. That was back in the living room now, or the parlor of course, probably next to the remote.
Ben.
Another thought of that abandoned house she gave out for clients to try came along with the recollection of that name, grew up beside some half-remembered thought of her own nervous laughter in the dead of night. Could there be some trouble with the house? Naw, that part of the gig had always been just fine, with the cops usually nabbing those perves within twenty minutes of their arrival. They/it was in a snazzy part of town after all, which gave it an air of deception: the overlapping hits on the GPS enough to drive some of the richer guys in town wild. A quick hello on the app, then the johns were almost always sucked in. Wild stuff, indeed.
Hell, and some of them were wild, really truly dearly. She had even met Alan through one of the raunchier ones and had been amazed to hear his thoughts about how this part of the suburbs just made some people nuts. American Psycho style all over again, really truely.
Still…why did the name ‘Ben’ suddenly bring her a bit of dread? She walked past the tube again on her way to the parlor, its repetitive 24 hour news seeming to always blare the same headline, same imagery as all morning, same everythings, but first her phone. She’d look for the remote in a minute but knew that particular scavenger hunt would be as fun as looking for that other square of black and white. Not under the cushions, lost like that other thing, that name.
Ben.
Hmmm, it sounded like an old contact, or an old flame rather than a client. Where was that damn thing? Now she was starting to feel how her clients must feel. Wait till 11:30, wait till most of em were good and drunk, find an easy mark. Times were hard, but stimulus cash seemed to give people a little leeway. Say a few chipper hellos, then leave them in the dust.
She was still surprised how often it still worked.
Easier to do than finding her phone. Another bottle, another. Ah, there it was!
No cash – don’t want to risk anyone transmitting Covid. She sent at least twenty people the same cash-app for their funds while she continued her little dance, was mildly surprised each time that so many were so quick with a response. Gods did that always feel good. The first time she had hit big she had bought a top notch bottle of cognac, but not today.
Ben.
Was he one of the cops, mayhap? She pulled herself back to the couch again, doing her best to ignore the imagery flashing across either screen. Some structure on fire now smoldering ashes on the tube. Ignore. Her friend Jenny trying to call. Ignore, ignore. No contact named Ben in her rolodex, better check her clients list. Alan trying to send a text, ignore.
Ben. Ah, there he was!
Some flash of something green and black, something under bright sodium lights came with the name, the first of the messages starting to spiral up. The one at the bottom was a strange one though, seemed to stick out for some reason. He had even sent a photo it seemed, when he was in front of the house. Perfect, no worries there then. Scruffy came over and jumped on her lap while she waited, making her burp a tad.
“You haven’t been up to anything bad while Mama’s been out, have you boy?” The pooch did little else but pant his stinky dog breath back at her, leaving deep grooves in her skin as he jumped off to better pounce at the nearest chew toy. He seemed off a bit off, walking strange. For a second she thought she saw something on his muzzle, reminding herself not to leave the bagel to low on the table again.
But back to Ben – what was the story there? She picked up the phone from where the dog had knocked it, flipped back through her phone rolodex for a moment. She was a bit apprehensive as she opened the contact listing, doing so after it was clear she had blocked this ‘Ben’ sometime around 11:45, after only ten or fifteen minutes of chat. Gods that was a bit quick.
You must be quite the winner, Mr. Ben! She thought to herself. She opened up the messages section again, scrolling to the very top. The first few on the bottom had made little sense, seemed childish, or a call out for some child’s game for some reason, so she retraced back a moment.
Strange, he had only contacted her about ten, maybe 11 lines. Most of the clients could go for an hour, maybe more before they shelled out the big money, but this one looked to do so up front.
She started at the top again, thinking to herself well aren’t you a strange one…
BEN: Hey, how are you. (11:32pm)
GRACE: FINE! WONDerOUS DAY! (11:33pm)
BEN: How does this work, what do you need? (11:34pm)
GRACE: Fi your dOWn I’m dowN, y don’t u com over? 15min? (11:37pm)
BEN: Sure. Address? What do you need? (11:37pm)
The rest followed her typical script, the usual copy paste job. Something about needing a babysitter, can you please send yadda yadda. They almost always did, in time – she knew how to fish for the good ones. Reel them in quick, cut deep, leave em hanging.
Scruffy was jumping on her lap again, almost knocking the phone out of her hand once more.
“Hey stop that!” She said, trying not to be harsh. Back to the messages, which stopped quick after the address.
BEN: Out front. Don’t care if it’s a scam/really do have the cash. Just need a hug real bad this eve. need sumthin special (11:45pm). Below it was a picture of the house, the same she always sent them to. Damn, he must live closer than she thought. It had only taken him 5 min from first shot of the address she sent to his showing up. How funny – maybe he walked? Or drove?
Must be a desperate one, she thought. The screen glowed again.
GRACE: App only love! Sitter is all digi these days! (11:46pm)
BEN: Not how this is going to work. (11:46pm)
She glanced again at the screen, realizing that there was something off about the house in the background of the image he sent. In the night lighting at the old Jefferies place was always a funny one when the cops were about, the old place being was just far enough up the hill that she could watch some of the unsuspecting fun come and go if she needed. She had made a game of it at first, even gotten a telescope there in the corner for some of the better ones who just drove by all sad, but now had a pretty good sweetheart deal with the cops going after a bit, to nab them. To get these ‘undesireables’ off the street.
No prob with double dipping, right?
Still, there was something off about it this morning, something she couldn’t quite place. The TV had woken her she was sure, the usual siren blast of some dopey cop show or another. The Jefferies place remained as empty as ever, sometimes lit up by the cops to attract them further, same as here in this same picture.
Still, if he knew the area that well/was able to drive, might he have seen her from time to time at the deli, or at the park? Maybe that was it, she’d have to be careful today. She glanced down at the end of the text again, briefly recalling why now there was a reason she had blocked this one – that last one had given her the willies.
BEN: Out back, can’t wait for more soon. Peek-a-B00, I see you.. (11:46pm)
Such childish stuff – a kids game really.
Still, something about the house in the picture? Was there something in his hand?
Naw, no way he could find her let alone get in her place, not unless Jackson downstairs buzzed to let someone in. To high up to climb, no idea of the place, too new a phone to trace. Alan had gotten here shortly after midnight.
She went back to the couch, still feeling dazed, dizzy even, pushing aside a few more of the bottles that had somehow gotten stuck in the cushions since she left. Scruffy jumped up again, making her jump, making her also drop her phone. Was that blood on his muzzle? Something in his teeth?
Then he was back down again, running past the TV, chewing up a toy that looked like a row of houses all stitched together. Probably just cut his lips on the thing. It was a bit sharp, and dogs weren’t known for their smarts.
Funny how much that chew toy looked like the neighborhood outside, all the low rises of the block summed up in one small toy. Must be one of Alans new gifts, a joke about how all the houses round these parts look the same, and how easily he still kept getting lost.
Lost. He was always doing things like that, getting lost.
Ben.
Peek-a-boo. I…
On the TV they were still showing the carnage from somewhere in the city, the same tract housing from the 60’s that still seemed to be just about everywhere. Looked just like Jacobs place though if you thought about it, and that girl…(was it Kat, not Kate?) looked just like her old place she had grown up with too, like all the houses on that block.
She could suddenly hear the larger rattlings from outside, but also something now in her head…right? The TV was making it hard to think, making some of the numbers in her head and on the screen look loopy.
2411. 2144. Such an easy mistake to make in the dark for sending an address, especially with a bottle near your head. Hell, if you were drunk and accidentally texted the wrong address (or if the loony goofed it up himself), it would take much, would it, to miss the sting house, would it.
Would it?
All the houses looking the same like that - she had forgotten that that old tract housing was similar to its counterparts – had lookalikes just next door, or even a few doors down.
All the houses look the same…don’t they.
Just like the Jefferies place, even.
She was getting a few more of morning texts now, her phone a little bit more busy at this time of hour than usual, the TV still blaring about that same something that looked familiar. She glanced away, back to her phone which really seemed to be going off now. From the looks of it, it from other people on the block, not just Jenny, a lot of strange funny words.
Strange words.
Peek-a-B00.
Strange.
Something about that last part rattled her more than she liked, and suddenly she found herself a bit more nervous than not to go to the living room window. Gods, there was a reason she hated kids after all, and their games, and they were always making such loud sounds and then the sirens would come. Everything from up here all sounding the same, just beautiful birds warbling away. Scruffy coming up close again, probably needing to go out soon.
No point in peeking out just yet – the sun will do mur…serious damage to my hangover, my skin, if I’m not careful, she thought. Gotta be more careful.
She looked at the dog again, at the first of his knowing sideways wiggles. He’ll need to go out soon. Need to go…need to go…to go…out..
Hell, he can piss on the floor this morn for all I care. She suddenly thought. Instead of getting up she killed the tube by pulling the cord, and chucked her phone into the corner. Alan had the com after all, had been pretty handy with the deadbolt.
Deal with it all more later, just sleep for now, sleep for now. Nothing to worry about.
Just check the deadbolt again first. TV’s unplugged from the back, look for the remote later.
Bedtime again now, zzzzzzz. More later, blinds down, window closed.
Outside, what sounded like large birds continued to sing as she put her head firmly back on the pillow, pulled the covers tight.
From the corner her phone continued to make buzzing sounds like a hacksaw seemingly in reverse. Something mechanical, that sometimes had such a sweet tune.
----Fin.----
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