Page 20 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
Oh, God. Jessica in bed. I wondered what she wore. I hoped it was a little T-shirt so you could see her undies.
Maybe she didn’t wear undies.
Maybe I needed to stop thinking about this while her stunning face was right by mine.
“Go to bed, baby. I’ll clean up. Hope you have a good first night.”
“Thanks.” And I watched her scoot out of the room, with a little wiggle I hadn’t seen before.
Hot. Damn.
In an old house, nothing worked except the owners.
After dinner, I’d left for my meeting, but came back and cleaned up. Now the moon, filtered by the eucalyptus trees outside, shone bright in my room. As I lay in my big, antique bed, I squinted at the ceiling, which reminded me that I needed to get the cracks fixed. Even though it was a maintenance nightmare, this heap of a home was just right for me. It could take a beating and still worked just fine.
Like me.
I scratched my belly, adjusted my sweatpants, and turned over onto my stomach, trying to get to sleep.
No noise from the silent mouse in the next room. I’d heard her talking to someone—a boyfriend? None of my business, I guess. But now it was quiet, and I was stuck with my thoughts.
It was too quiet.
I hated that.
When it got quiet, I’d think about the shit I’ve done. I wouldn’t wanna do that.
I flopped over onto my side, the bed squeaking as I turned.
Slowly, I drifted to sleep
“It’s alright,” I slurred, as I got into my black Camaro.
She was a beauty.
I meant the car, not the girl I was with.
I looked around. Where’d she go?
God, I was so fucked up, I didn’t even know.
I got in the seat and forgot to shut the door. Then I shut it. I turned the key.
The engine started.
My Camaro, baby. She was a beaut.
Wait, I already said that.
How drunk was I?
I didn’t know.
I was out of the parking lot now. Air on my face. Oh, it was cold. Maybe I should roll the window up.
Did I even shut the door? I thought I did.
I slammed it again.
