“Yes, I did. It’s a little bit of short notice to take two weeks of vacation, Joss.”
“I know and I’m super sorry about that, but you see my mom is sick and I need to take care of her.”
Jorgie makes a quick, disgusted snort. I narrow my eyes before turning my back to her.
“That sounds like FMLA. Maybe you should speak to Human Resources.”
“No, that’s not necessary. It’s not a big deal. And you know what? I’d still do all my work, just from home. I’m pretty much going to be watching her sleep. I have to be there in case she needs me.”
I face Jorgie again in time to see her eyes rolling at me. I give her the finger.
“But two weeks?”
“I could probably get by with one.”
“Well, that sounds doable. You’ll be able to finish the Frontier fact-checks and verify the info on the political piece?”
“Absolutely. It’ll be no trouble at all.”
“Well . . . okay then. I guess it’s fine. Just make sure you have your phone on at all times in case I need you.”
“Of course. Thanks, Claus.”
I press end call and breathe a sigh of relief.
“You really shouldn’t lie about stuff like that. Wouldn’t you feel bad if Mom suddenly got sick?”
“Stop being so paranoid.” I stuff my cell into my back jeans pocket. “You know I need the time off to write this article. You should see this woman. She’s a nasty little thing with a horrible attitude. She’s mean to everyone: her cat, me, her next door neighbor . . . I’m going to thoroughly enjoy calling her out for the fake she is. Trolls everywhere are going to fear my name and run for the hills!” I lift my hand in the air and make a fist.
Jorgie laughs.
I look around the store contently. Everything seems to be in place. “Do you need my help with anything else?”
“Did you help me with something? All I remember you doing was eating three cupcakes and watching me work.”
“I meant like the moral support kind of help. I can tell you how awesome you are again if you need to hear it.”
“No, I’m good.” She snickers.
Pulling her in for a hug, I kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, “You’re going to be fantastic and all your dreams are going to come true.”
She squeezes me tightly.
“I’ll be here tomorrow right after I get done with asshole Annie. You know she lives within walking distance of here?”
“That’s good. I’m sure I’m going to need that moral support by then. Mom said she’s taking the day off work. She’s going to be here all stinking day tomorrow. You know, in case I need her to tell me how to do it the right way.”
I cringe.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“I’ll bring you coffee laced with booze of some kind.”
“You’re my angel.”
I pick a piece of lint from her shirt and drop it to the ground. “I know. I’m everyone’s angel.” I shrug.
“Don’t forget to mention how modest you are too.”
I grab a cookie off the counter and sashay out the door yelling, “Love you, sissy!” into the air.
“Love you back!”
I thought of telling Jorgie about Annie’s hot neighbor and all the research I did on him, but I never ever discuss men with her unless it’s serious. I’ve only ever been serious about one guy in my life and that was in high school. I’ve barely said two words to Rhode Bennett, so obviously he’s not worth mentioning. But damn if he isn’t still on my mind for some reason.
I mentally review all I know about him as I drive back to my apartment. Rhode Bennett is the only child of Lacey and Torrance Bennett. He owns a very successful landscape company called Bennett Landscaping and he’s almost thirty years old. That explains his affinity for yards. His father is a professor at a university and apparently was a Rhodes scholar, hence where Rhode got his name, I assume.
His Facebook profile was marked private, so I had to use my dummy account to friend him. I guess I could have just friended him with my real account, but I don’t want to look like I’m interested in him or anything. I wish he’d accept my request. I’m dying to see more than his profile pic and cover photo. I like to know what makes people tick. You never know what info I can use to get close to him in case I need more dirt on Annie.
He’s originally from Dallas and I guess his parents still live down there. I wonder if he gets lonely being up here all by himself. I was able to get his birthday and college info. He’s a Sagittarius, which means he must like adventure and travel. He’s also extremely compatible with me, which I find fascinating even though I have zero time for more than looking at him. Hopefully we’ll get along, if I have to talk to him or anything.
I decide to play it cool next time I see him, if I see him. I mean, he has my number if he wants to talk to me, and he hasn’t used it yet. Not that I’ve noticed. I lift my phone to make sure it’s still on in case someone might be trying to reach me.
As I walk the stairs to my apartment, I start to feel bloated, probably from all the cupcakes. Even though I want to take a nap, I change my clothes and go for a run instead. I need to stay in shape in case Annie decides to chase after me on her broom when I tell the world all about her lies. Maybe it’ll knock her down off her high horse a few pegs. I’ll be the voice of everyone she’s ever wronged. My guess is that’s half this town.
After my run, I shower and put on my pajamas even though it’s only seven o’clock. I grab the stack of Annie’s reviews I printed from Amazon and start skimming through them.
I read the one for tissues. It got over five hundred likes. “I barely had a booger and this thing fell apart before I got it to my nose. I hate to see what would have happened if I sneezed. I probably would have blown it into party confetti complete with snot streamers. How hard is it to make a tissue? These morons probably spend all their times wiping their asses with real paper instead of the crap they make. If you like one ply, see-through, paper-thin tissues, then go ahead and buy these, or you can just burn your money. Same effect either way.”
Sheesh. That was a little harsh. I wonder if she even tried them. I flip to another about a flea collar. Hmm, maybe she actually used this on her cat. Nope, she says dog. It was written last week. I’m assuming she didn’t have one and get rid of it so quickly. Such a liar.
“My dog scratched more wearing this thing than he did before I put it on him. I actually saw bugs packing up their suitcases and telling their kids they won the lottery and were moving to a luxury resort town before they started climbing on him. All he needed was a disco ball hanging off his tail and it probably would have been a better club scene than the one at the grass where he poops. What a piece of garbage. It’s made cheap and looks cheap. If you want to torture your pet and make him miserable, this is the collar for you!”
I’m not sure how many more I read before I finally doze off. In my dreams Annie is the Wicked Witch of the West from Wizard of Oz and is chasing me on her broom throwing products she reviewed at me from the sky. A pet rock hits me in the head and I startle awake. I guess I’m going to live and breathe this story until it’s finally over. Hopefully, I make it out alive.
I WONDER IF THE door is locked and whether or not I should try the handle. Will I have to listen to her berate me again if I ring the bell or knock?
I check the time on my phone. It’s 9:00 a.m. on Monday morning. I did say all day, didn’t I? I check my wallet to make sure I have her cash with me. I count it again. One hundred dollars a day for five days. Maybe if I wave the money in the air, she’ll smell it and open the door all by herself.
I giggle to myself. As I lift my hand to the bell I stop suddenly when I hear a buzzing from the detached structure behind the house. A silver Cadillac barrels backward and comes to a screeching halt on the street.
She rolls down the window a crack and yells, “Let’s go, I ain’t got all day.” She closes the window and faces forward.
&nb
sp; For some reason, I feel I should run, so I do. What is it about this woman that makes me feel like she’s in charge? I’m the one paying her.
I stretch out for the door handle and she drives forward a bit, causing me to reach for air. I take two steps and reach for it again. She pulls forward once more. I stop moving. “Come on!”
“You got my money with you?” she shouts through the closed window.
“Yes.”
“Show me!”
I bite my lip to keep from swearing as I pull out five crisp twenty-dollar bills.
“Okay. Let’s go,” she says, motioning to me.
I reach for the handle one last time, promising myself I’ll kick her car door if she drives forward. She doesn’t. But the minute I sit down she opens her hand to me.
“My money?”
I sigh. “How about a hi, Joss? Or a can I please have my money?”
I stare at her for a moment and notice she’s wearing a navy blue vintage feather beret hat that’s tilted sideways on her head. She’s dressed up today. Did someone die?
She rolls her tongue around her teeth and places her palm out directly in front of my nose. “Give me my money or get the hell out of my car.”
I place the money in her hand and she spends at least five minutes checking each bill to see if it’s real.
“Do you think I have a printing press in my basement or something?” I ask.
“I don’t knows you. Maybe you do.”
When she seems satisfied, she neatly places the bills in her wallet, making sure they’re all going the same direction. She shifts the gear and her tires squeal as she presses on the gas, hard.
Reaching my hand up to the ceiling for balance, I wonder why in the hell she’s driving so fast. I remember my seat belt and as I try to grab for it, she turns the corner and my face smashes against the window.
“What the fuck, Annie?” I shout.
“You should have buckled in the minute you got in the car. Only a dumbass doesn’t wear a seat belt.”
“I’m trying, but I can’t even get to it. Are you training for the Indy 500 or are you just the worst driver in the universe?”
She slams on the brakes and I’m almost thrown into the windshield. My hands crash into the dashboard to brace for impact.
“Put on your damn belt, fool,” she shouts.
I quickly buckle my seat belt and try to calm my nerves before she starts again.
“If you’re gonna ride in my car you can’t go making a mess.” She hands me a tissue, but I’m not sure why. Am I crying on the outside? Because I know I’m screaming inside.
I take the tissue and dab my cheeks. I do feel like I’m sweating.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Get your damn hussy lipstick off my window.”
Gazing at the passenger window, I can make out the outline of my face from where I hit the glass. I use the tissue to wipe away the lipstick mark and before I have a chance to face forward, the race continues.
“Where in the hell are we going?”
“The store.”
“Are you late? Do they having a sale on pitchforks and you’re worried you’re going to miss out?”
We speed through a red light and cars all around us blow their horns.
“That was red, you know?” I yell, certain my eyes have popped out of my head.
“It just turned red. There’s a five-second delay. We had plenty of time.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” I hold on the door for dear life.
“Stop bitchin’! I knew you were gonna be a prissy little whiner the minute I laid eyes on you.”
“Well, I knew you were going to be—” I stop myself.
“Say it. Go ahead. What’s on your mind?”
She gazes over at me and stares, while she’s driving. She’s literally not watching the road and as she looks at me, the car veers left into oncoming traffic. Horns blare in warning.
“Annie, please! Look at the road! Oh my God!”
She faces forward and straightens out the car. “Ooh, now you’re callin’ on the Lord Jesus! Ain’t it funny how people remember their religion in the strangest of places? You should pray more. Then you wouldn’t need me to help you find God.”
She doesn’t even slow down when we pull into a supermarket parking lot. She finds a spot and slams on the brakes, pops it into park, and hops out of the car like nothing ever happened.
I attempt to pry my fingers from the dash, confident I’ve left an indentation. She’s already in the store and long gone by the time I walk through the automatic door. I begin my search up and down the aisles.
I finally see her by the canned goods. She’s jumping up in the air trying to reach something on the fourth shelf. I’m five-foot-six, which isn’t really that tall, but she’s got to be like four-foot-eight or something because she looks like a child.
I stand there watching her in amusement as she gets a running start and still can’t get to whatever she’s going for. I wonder how long I should let her struggle before I help her. After a few seconds I walk toward her and just as I’m about to say I’ll get it, she uses the shelves like steps and catapults up two of them to reach what seems to be a can of peaches. She jumps down and lands on her feet like it’s nothing. I stand there in complete disbelief. Is she part cat? She doesn’t say a word. She pushes her cart and keeps walking. When I say walking, I mean what would be a sprint for a normal person. I have to hurry to reach her.
“Why are we here?”
“I need some stuff,” she replies, careening her cart around various people who seem to be moving too slow for her.
“You drive a cart like you drive a car. Why are you in such a rush?”
“I got stuff to do today.”
“Like what? Are you planning on reviewing something?” I can’t help but feel a little excited about the idea.
“Only if something pisses me off. Speaking of that, what kind of lipstick are you wearing?”
“Umm, I don’t know. Why? Do you want some?”
“Ha. No. I don’t wear Scarlet Slut. But if I keep having to look at it on your narrow little mouth all day, I might be so inclined to tell someone what I think of it.”
I stop in my tracks. Is that how it works? She writes reviews for things she doesn’t like? I jog to catch up to her by the cold cuts. “Do you only write reviews for things you hate?”
“I never said that.”
“So sometimes you say positive things?”
“Didn’t say that either.”
She rounds a corner and walks into the liquor department. I think it’s a mistake until she places a bottle of scotch in her cart.
“Having a party?”
“There you go again making assumptions. It’s none of your business.”
We get up to the register to check out. Two cans of peaches, a pound of turkey, and a bottle of booze. What an odd combination. She uses one crisp twenty to pay for it. I’m worried I’m never going to get anything out of her at this rate.
As we head toward the car, I ponder how far it would be if I walked. “Would you like me to drive?” I ask, almost begging her with my eyes.
“Do you have a car here?”
“At the grocery store? Well, no.”
“Then how are you going to drive?”
“I meant drive your car.”
“Child, you have a screw loose if you think I’d let you behind the wheel of my caddy.”
Knowing I don’t have a choice, I quickly buckle myself in the seat, close my eyes, and hold on for dear life. After a few seconds I hear a tap on the window.
“If you’re going to sit in there all day, maybe I should crack a window for you.”
Opening one eye, I notice Annie staring at me. I open the door. “Aren’t we leaving?”
She shakes her head, places the bottle and cans in the car, and starts walking down the street with the turkey. I’m insanely curious now. Everything she does is so unpredictable.
We walk a block and she
stops in front of a gray, broken-down house.
“Now you listen to me. I expect you to be a fly on the wall. You wanted to see what I do and all you’re gonna do is watch. Understand? As far as she’s concerned you’re deaf and mute.”
“She?”
“If you can’t be quiet then you can go back to the car. Or better yet, you can go home.”
I zip my lips.
She climbs the stairs and walks into the house without knocking. She must have a thing against it.
“I’m here,” she shouts, kicking off her shoes and motioning for me to do the same. “Don’t pay attention to the cornflake following me around. She wants to watch me.”
Why must she insult me every second? I can hear a television playing in the back room, but no one responds. Annie walks into the kitchen, opens a cabinet, pulls out some bread, and begins unwrapping the turkey from the store. I wonder if anyone lives here. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if Annie is legit insane.
She makes a sandwich and pours a cup of milk, then wanders to the back of the house. There’s a woman sitting in a chair dozing. I think. She could be dead.
Annie puts the plate and cup on the end table and shouts, “Thea!” clapping her hands.
The woman startles awake. “Whatchoo yelling ’bout?”
“I had to yell. You didn’t hear me come in?”
“What?”
Annie searches left and right around the chair, bends down, and places something in Thea’s ear. “Now can you hear me?”
The woman lifts a finger to her ear and twists it. She nods as Annie pulls a tray table over to her and places the sandwich in front of her.
“Did you eat breakfast?” she asks.
“Yeah, I had an egg.”
“What kinda egg?”
“Poached.”
“You a liar! You ain’t ever poached an egg in your life!”
Annie picks up a sweater off the floor and starts folding it. I stand by the entrance trying to figure out why we’re here. I wonder if they’re sisters.
“I was watching that Masterchef Junior show and those little ’ems were doing it. If they can so can I.” She starts swirling her hand in a circle. “You get the water going real fast like a tornado and you drop it and it swirls and shit.”
Angry Annie Page 4
