Page 35 of Plight
“He’s not a geek.”
“He is, but that’s okay. You should go out with him, Duck. Have fun. Stop being a quack.” He burst into laughter as he opened the door and looked back at me. “Get it? Quack?”
I did what I always did and flipped him the bird. Unfortunately, it was at the exact moment a customer walked in through the door, blushing as Chris held it open for her. I flipped my bird around until I was waving like one, and yeah, it only made him laugh more.
A few hours later, I’dprepared myself enough to ring Elliot and tell him the bad news. I’d even rehearsed it in front of the bathroom mirror during my lunch break. I was poised. Confident. Determined. Unimpressionable. I wasn’t going to be influenced by his influential ways. Not anymore.
Blowing a puff of you’ve-got-this-shit out of my mouth, I dialled his number. The last time I’d tried ringing his mobile, he hadn’t answered, so I’d rang him direct at work and got some strange sounding secretary instead. I didn’t want to have to talk to her again.
“You’re not getting out of it, Danielle, so if this is an ‘I’m sick’ call, suck it up.”
Sheesh. Does he know me that well?
“I’m not sick, Lots.”
“Good. Because telling yourself you’re sick is not an affirmation.”
He’s stupid knowledge of random crap had already thrown me off my game plan. I needed to just come out with my non-bogus bogus excuse anyway. “I’m sorry. But I actually can’t come. For real. I completely forgot that a plumber was scheduled to come by my house tonight.”
“Do you need to be there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ha! I’d prepared myself for this response.
“Because of Dudley. I can’t risk him getting out. It’s happened before.”
If I could’ve high-fived myself, I would’ve.
“Then bring him here.”
What? I hadn’t planned for that response, at all.
“Um … I …” Frantically looking around me, my eyes bounced from object to object, as if I’d find a solution somewhere in the merchandise store, as if a stapler or coat-hanger could provide the perfect alibi for my predicament.
They couldn’t.
Nothing could.
“I … ah … HE SHITS EVERYWHERE!” I blurted triumphantly.
“I thought we agreed no more lies, Danielle?”
“I’m not lying; he does … sometimes. I can’t guarantee he won’t shit all over your apartment. Honestly, I’d hate for him to lay a sloppy joe style turd on your carpet.”
Stumbling across my reflection in the mirror of the open change room cubicle door to my left, I noticed my hand was on my hip. Grr. He’s doing it again. He has me on the defence. Damn him.
“We can put toilet mats down and keep him segregated to the laundry.”
“No. We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’ll be putting me out by not coming tonight.”
