Page 9 of Flirtatious

One minute turns to two and then turns to five. I lift my phone in front of me to see if it rang and I didn’t hear it, but there are no missed calls. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic. Or in a tunnel. Or somewhere there’s shitty reception. That happens a lot.

I think back to that one time he and I had to go to one of those home stores to get him a new shower curtain. I’d never been in one of them before that day, and I was so thrilled to find out that a simple blond wig and sunglasses made it possible for me to walk around like any other person looking for tools or shower curtains. When I tried to call my mother, though, I couldn’t get a call out, and Michael explained that the metal construction of the building made it hard to use cell phones there.

That’s probably why he hasn’t called back yet. He always knew the answer to why things happened like they did. That’s what I need. Not some giant, angry guy who thinks this job is some kind of demotion for him. I need a friend like Michael who cared and answered my questions, no matter how stupid they were because I’ve experienced so little in life.

After ten minutes, I try to call him again, but this time it goes directly to voicemail. His phone never does that. Why would it go directly to voicemail?

Mine only does that if I turn it off or I decline a call. Did he deliberately not answer my call? He has to know it’s me. My name comes up right in the middle of his screen with that picture of me he took that time on the ride back from a show in Oklahoma City.

Why would he not want to talk to me?

Ten minutes later,after charming the guy at the front gate and the helpful assistance of an Uber driver, I stand outside of Michael’s apartment feeling like I’m about to unravel. Michael has never not answered one of my calls. He knows how much I depend on him to keep me sane when my mother insists on constantly making my life a living hell.

So why didn’t he answer?

A second after I knock, I hear noises inside his apartment. It sounds like there’s more than one person in there. Maybe his sister came over to visit when she heard he got fired. After helping me, she’s probably going to be pissed, but I’ll tell her like I plan to tell Michael that I’m going to get him his job back. He doesn’t have to worry about that. I won’t let my mother get away with this latest stunt of hers.

The door opens, and finally, I see a friendly face. “Michael! Why didn’t you answer my call? I tried like half a dozen times.”

He leans against the doorframe and quickly buttons his jeans, like I caught him right after getting out of the shower. Except he doesn’t look like he’s clean at all. If anything, he looks pretty nasty right now, as if he’s been drinking ever since he found out what my mother did.

“My phone’s been on the fritz. You know how it is. I should have gotten a new one a while ago.”

I push past him to walk into his place, wrinkling my nose at the stench that hits me not two steps in. “I needed to come over and tell you I won’t let my mother get away with firing you. She had no right, and I told her that. So, you don’t have to worry. You’ll have your job back today. I promise.”

“Mia…”

With a shake of my head, I stop him. He doesn’t have to say a word. None of this is his fault. I was the one who asked him to get me that hotel room, and I was the one who asked him to help me sneak away. He doesn’t deserve to pay for merely doing as I wanted.

“It’s okay, Michael. I won’t let her do it. She brought some big guy in to replace you this morning, but I’ve already put my foot down and told her no way am I letting that happen. Just give me a few hours and you’ll be back at the house where you belong.”

A noise that sounds like someone snickering comes from the bathroom, and Michael nervously glances in that direction as I try to understand the vibe I’m getting from this place. He hasn’t been drinking away his sadness at losing his job. There are no empty beer bottles, and that’s all Michael drinks.

And that smell isn’t stale alcohol. It’s weed and something else, but I can’t seem to place it.

“Mia, you should go. I’m sure everyone’s looking for you by now, so you should go,” he says as he begins to guide me toward the front door.

Why is he giving me the bum’s rush like this? We’re friends. We sit together every night and talk about everything. Why does he want me to go so soon?

“I don’t want to go yet. I miss you, Michael. I want you back as my security guy. I feel safe with you.”

Again, a sound like someone’s in the bathroom laughing hits my ears, and I see Michael’s eyes get wide. He heard it too.

“What’s going on here?” I ask as I look around at the mess of his apartment. “Why does it feel like you haven’t been sitting here all sad about losing your job protecting me?”

Then I smell that scent I couldn’t place a minute ago and finally know what it is. Sex.

“Mia, just go and whatever happens, it’s okay,” Michael says sheepishly.

My emotions begin to unravel inside me. I thought he cared about me. I thought we were friends. God, I thought we were more than friends.

I thought Michael and I were soulmates.

But one day after my mother fired him, he’s here getting high and sleeping with someone? Even worse, he doesn’t want to admit it and simply wants me to leave, to get out of his hair so he can go back to banging this woman?

“It’s not okay!” I say, my voice breaking out into a sob as I storm over to the bathroom door to fling it open.

A blonde with ratty hair in a pink tank top and a baby puke green thong looks at me like I’m the skank and giggles again. “Who the fuck is she?”

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