Page 22 of Unhinged

“Can you kill me first?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Can’t you ask someone else if there are any tags around?”

“Let’s see,” she says, slowly swiveling her head, and I imagine that elevator scene from The Shining, with blood rushing the customer service desk. Preferably, not mine.

I groan. “Christ. Never mind.”

She looks up faster than I thought possible. “Well, that’s uncalled for.”

In no mood to apologize, I mumble, “Thanks anyway.”

As I push off the desk, Puffy announces, “Oh. I found a blank one,” but she makes no further move.

“Okay… I’ll take it?” I watch other coworkers working the desk and wish I had taken one of them at nail gunpoint.

Nodding, she eventually places it on the gray counter on the other side of the register and picks up a marker. “With one G?” What the fuck?

“I’ve never heard of an instance of only one.”

Ignoring me, she takes a long time to write a short name. Puffy then smiles at it like it’s a work of art. “There. All done.” Bloody hell, lady.

Lumbering over, it’s as if she’s in slow-mo, walking backward. She hands me the tag, but when I grab it, she holds onto it, asking, “How old are you today?”

“Fifty-seven.”

Her eyes light up, and it scares me somewhat to see there’s life in there. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“What’s your secret?”

“Cocaine facials.”

Puffy’s mouth makes her look like a blow-up doll reject. I tug on the tag, and she finally releases it. I escape through the main entrance and remove my old name badge, crumpling it and ceremoniously tossing it into the trash can. As I walk, I flip over the new tag to hook it on my apron, and I stop, causing a car to honk at me.

“Craig?” I whine.

Son of a bitch. I fucking give up. Some battles aren’t worth it.

Chapter 6

Still having time before meeting my mother at the country club, I scroll to a video of a man banging a woman against the wall in the shower. Nope. Fucking against a wall is overrated. I then scroll to one where a big-knockered woman sits on a guy’s face while she sucks another man’s dick. No, thanks.

I feel nothing. Not in my brain and definitely nothing where my junk used to hang. Either that night with Hadley obliterated any desire to watch people fuck, or it castrated me,, and I’m now a eunich. I should’ve just gone to mime school or become a pool hustler. I guess either is still a viable option.

Tossing down my phone, I look out my bedroom window to see a quiet Jimmy Don strutting around Ed’s backyard like he owns the place. Hell, with all the shit he’s probably seen Ed do, maybe he does.

I take a shower to wash off the distinct and depressing smell of Home Depot. I ignore my reflection in the mirror. Though it’s foggy, I still see enough, and it’s not pretty. Another side effect of that night in her foyer is that I can’t face my reflection. He’s a judgmental prick and knows every detail.

“Where can we go? Or we can stay right here.”

I lick my lip and inhale. I relive them every damn day.

“Fuck me, Hadley. I need this with you.”

My name coming from her mouth as she clawed me. I still feel her nails digging and her hot breath fanning me as I pushed against her.

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