Seriously Messed Up: A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy

by Luke Young

  “I don’t know.” After zipping it closed, he looked at her. “Oh and I just lost my job.”

  “What?” She gasped. “What happened?”

  “Who the hell knows?”

  He lifted the suitcase and took a step toward her, stopping when she moved in front of him. She placed a hand on his chest. “What are you doing? Talk to me.”

  “What is there to say?” He refused to look her in the eye. “I need to get out of here.”

  “Wait, I think I’m a sex addict.”

  “You?” He glared at her, placing the suitcase down.

  Backing away from him, she sat on the mattress, placing her head in her hands. “I’ve been caught up in this site.”

  “What site?”

  “This online thing called Fetlife.”

  “What the hell is that?” he asked wearing a sickened expression.

  “It’s for people with fetishes.” She looked up at him, her expression desperate for understanding.

  “You have a fetish?”

  “Several actually.”

  “Like what?” He put his hands up. “Wait, I don’t want to know.”

  “But I want to talk to you about it.”

  He let out an exhausted sigh then picked up the bag. “So you’re a sex addict with like a million fetishes and we haven’t had sex since, what, last month?”

  “It’s a disease. I was ashamed of what I was doing and—”

  “You get a disease, probably the only disease a husband would want his wife to have, and you don’t throw even a little bit of the addiction my way.” He crossed the room toward the door.

  “Wait.”

  He turned back to her.

  Kelly pleaded, “I couldn’t tell you and I didn’t want to involve you by having sex with you. I can’t explain it.”

  “Save it for Dr. Phil.” He turned away and stepped toward the door.

  Her expression shifted to a look of disgust. “You know, maybe if you weren’t such a bad lay and a whimp, I wouldn’t be this way.”

  He turned to her and gaped. “That’s nice.”

  “It’s true.” She folded her arms.

  “You know, Kelly”—he continued in a calm voice—“fuck you.”

  He moved past her to the bed. “And I’m taking my book.” He snatched the book and headed for the door.

  Sitting behind the wheel of his car, Eli pulled his cell phone out and dialed a number. As he backed out of the driveway, a sign on the lawn caught his eye.

  Global Pools, Spas and Remodeling

  We go around the world

  We do it all

  He muttered, “Bastards! They really do, do it all.”

  7

  Hyperventilating and driving erratically, Eli recounted the story to Michael about losing his job and catching Kelly cheating on him. When he was finished, his friend simply said, “Wow.”

  Eli said, “Uh-huh. I’m suing the whore for divorce and my company for, you know, wrongful termination or whatever. How many—”

  “Wait, unless you’re a member of some protected class that I don’t know about you don’t have much of a case,” Michael’s voice boomed out of the car’s speakers.

  “I am half Polish.”

  “Polish?”

  “Yeah.”

  Michael said, “That’s not going to cut it. But maybe I could get you more severance.”

  “They offered twenty weeks.”

  “For seven years there that’s really good. Take that and walk away,” Michael began. “But Jesus, Kelly, I can’t believe it. The freaking pool guys?”

  “I know.” With a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, Eli tailgated the car in front of him. “Move asshole!” he snapped as he swerved, crossing the double yellow line. He punched the gas, passing the car and barely flinching as a giant SUV barreled toward him. He yanked the steering wheel back to the right, missing the oncoming car, as the driver honked and flipped him off.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Michael asked.

  “Driving.”

  “Relax. Okay?”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re about to go on vacation and my entire fucking life is falling apart. Will you help me with the divorce?”

  “Look, I’ve got to leave for the airport tomorrow. Just move out. Don’t speak to her or do anything crazy. When I get back, I’ll hook you up with the best divorce guy out there.”

  “All right.” After taking a deep breath, Eli relaxed his foot off the gas. The car slowed a bit and he loosened his grip on the wheel.

  “Do you have a place to stay?”

  “I’ll go to a hotel I guess.

  “You can stay at my place in Tampa for as long as you want, until I put it on the market anyway.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely. It’s huge, has a pool, hot tub and you saw the beach. The best thing would be for you to get away from there anyway.”

  “Maybe. Okay, yeah,” Eli replied.

  “Hey while you’re there, could you do me a favor?”

  “No problem. What?”

  “I need this work done before I put the house on the market. You only need to arrange a time they can get in and fix some electrical thing.”

  “I can do that.” Eli stopped the car at a red traffic light. The car he just passed illegally, pulled up alongside him and the female driver shot him a disgusted look.

  Noticing the woman, he shrugged apologetically and mouthed, “Sorry.”

  “What is it?” Michael asked.

  “Nothing.” The light changed and Eli pushed on the gas. “I can do it.”

  “Great. I’ll send you an e-mail with the company to call, the address of my house and the lock code. You don’t need a key.”

  Eli grumbled, “Oh man, I never should’ve married her.”

  “I know,” Michael replied. “Another one of your beyond brilliant moves.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  8

  As Anne drove home from signing the divorce papers, her mind was reeling. The signing was uneventful, cordial even, that was until she overheard Michael’s casual conversation with his attorney. She stormed out of the building and into her car. After checking in with her boss, she made up her mind. The instant Anne returned to the house, she texted Melanie but did not get a reply so she called and left a voice mail.

  After booking a flight that left in three hours, she packed shoes into a suitcase then turned to open a drawer. Pulling out a belt, she spotted a picture frame next to it. She picked up the wedding photo of her and Michael. Both smiling as they stood at the altar, they appeared as though they were truly happy. She gazed at it for a few moments, shaking her head.

  Her phone rang, Melanie’s name appeared on the screen and she answered the call. “Hey.”

  Melanie said, “I just got your messages. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got to get out of here.” Anne placed the picture down on the mattress.

  “What? Where?”

  “The beach house in Tampa. I’m going to go. I know it’s late notice and all, but do you want to go? You can bring the kids if you want.”

  Melanie paused a moment. “I’d love to, but the kids are in school anyway and—”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, I’d leave them with Dennis, but he’s going to be away for work starting tomorrow.”

  “I understand completely.”

  “You going to be okay?”

  “I think so,” Anne replied.

  “What happened with the lawyers?”

  “Nothing, I mean, it was fine, but get this, he’s taking her on my trip.”

  “Who? What trip?”

  “Michael. He’s taking that…that woman to France. We were supposed to go and we never did. Now he’s taking her. I only found out today.”

  “Screw him. You’re better off without that cheating bastard.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “You sure you’re going to be all right?” Mela
nie asked. “Maybe I could come down next week.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve got a lot of work to do anyway.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will.” Anne took a deep breath. “I’ve got to run. My plane leaves in a couple hours.”

  “Call me if you need anything or just call me, you know.”

  “I know. I will.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.” Anne ended the call. Picking up the picture, she glanced at it one last time before returning it to the drawer.

  9

  With a yellow light on his dashboard warning that he was low on fuel, Eli pulled in to a gas station and stepped out to the pump. After inserting his credit card three times and getting the same annoying failure message, he walked to the pump behind him, swiped his card and received the same message. Closing his eyes, he sighed then stormed toward the convenience store, seething and cursing under his breath.

  He pulled on the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to push it instead and that didn’t work either. Noticing the “We’re Open” sign, he banged on the door and peered inside. Cupping his hands over his eyes to shield the glaring sunlight, he spotted a man duck behind a rack.

  He banged harder on the door and said loudly, “Hey, it’s not taking my card.”

  In no mood for this shit, he continued banging. Seconds later a man rushed to the door and glared at him through the glass. “We’re closed!”

  “The sign says you’re open! I’m running on fumes out here. Come on!” Eli spotted the gun in the man’s hand, partially concealed behind his back, and his eyes widened in alarm. Suddenly, the man unlocked the door, ripped it open then yanked him inside.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Eli began. What the hell are you—”

  “Just shut up!” the gunman commanded, pointing the gun at Eli’s chest.

  Eli nodded putting his hands up defensively.

  “Get back there.” The gunman shoved him toward the back of the store next to a young woman. The woman clutched a dog in a purse over her chest. The tiny black, white and brown Papillon with its fluffy ears sticking out wide poked its head out of the bag. Wearing a sparkling spiked and jeweled collar, the dog whined before sinking down to hide in the purse.

  Turning away, the man pointed the gun at the clerk who knelt behind the counter in front of a safe. The clerk, with his hand shaking nervously, stared at the LED display as it counted down.

  Eli glanced at the young woman who wore a baseball cap, T-shirt and jeans. She looked terrified; however, Eli felt a bit bored by the ordeal considering the events he’d already experienced that day.

  The gunman said, “Come on! How much more time?”

  “It’s locked out for two more minutes,” the clerk yelled back.

  “You screw it up again and you won’t live another two minutes.”

  Suddenly, a cell phone rang and the gunman turned toward the pair in the back of the store. He rushed to them waving the gun around. “Whose phone?”

  When it rang again, he zeroed in on the source, motioning toward the woman. “Give it to me.”

  The woman handed over the phone. After slipping it into his pocket, the gunman turned his attention to Eli. “You too.”

  Eli did as he was told. The gunman returned his attention to the woman, studying her face for a moment with his eyes widening. “Wait, you’re that singer.”

  “No, I’m not.” The woman shook her head quickly. “People make tha—”

  “Yes, you’re Savannah Swain,” the gunman said. “You are!”

  Narrowing his eyes, Eli studied the woman’s face and the realization washed over him also. Although certainly dressed down and trying to hide her identity, it was either the pop superstar or her identical twin.

  Suddenly the clerk fired a shot at the gunman and a bag of potato chips exploded a few feet from the gunman’s head. Savannah screamed. As the gunman turned, a second shot fired, missing him as well. Taking aim quickly, the gunman fired a single shot at the clerk, striking him in the stomach. The clerk fell to the floor, groaning in agony.

  The dog barked like crazy and the gunman boomed, “Shut that thing up!”

  Savannah clutched the purse closer to her chest. “Shh, Tinkerbell.” Shivering, the puppy gazed at her with its eyes wide.

  The wail of police sirens filled the air and quickly grew louder. The gunman rushed to the front of the store just as two patrol cars screeched to a halt outside. The officers pushed open their car doors and took cover, aiming their weapons at the store.

  “Fuck.” The gunman rushed to the back of the room, waving his gun around in a panic. “Shit.”

  He spotted a back exit, and while pointing the gun in the direction of Eli, pushed it open a few inches then quickly closed it. “Damn it!” Gritting his teeth, he stood still for a moment before glancing out front once again. He crouched down behind a shelf, his eyes darting left and right as he obviously contemplated his next step. After a few moments, he looked at Savannah and smiled. The gunman rose, peering over the shelf then made his way to the woman. “You’re my way out of here.”

  “What!” Savannah pleaded, “Wait.”

  The gunman quickly slipped behind her, wrapping one arm around her neck and pushed the gun into her back.

  “No, take me,” Eli said.

  He turned to Eli and replied sarcastically, “No thanks.”

  Savannah squirmed nervously as she gazed at Eli with her eyes widened in alarm. The man tightened his grip on her. Tinkerbell yelped and she squealed in terror whispering to the dog, “It’ll be okay, Tinky.”

  “Shut that dog up,” the gunman yelled. “I’m serious!”

  Eli put his hands up. “Look, have you thought this through? You’ll never—”

  “Stay out of this, asshole, or you’ll end up like Jason Bourne over there. Now let’s go!” The gunman shoved his weapon into Savannah’s back.

  She closed her eyes, shaking as Eli took a step toward them. “I’m not letting you take her!”

  The gunman pointed the gun at Eli. Eli stopped in his tracks, raising his hands. “I’m just saying, why don’t we leave her out of it?”

  “Why don’t you fucking stay out of it!” The gunman rushed over to Eli, jamming the barrel of the gun to his forehead. “Do you want to die?”

  Eli’s lip quivered slightly as he opened his mouth to speak, but no words formed.

  “I said, do you fucking want to die, asshole?”

  Trembling violently, Savannah looked on.

  The gunman laughed sadistically. “Time’s u—”

  “No!” Suddenly, Eli ducked and in some superhuman reflexive action, took hold of the man’s arm, forcing it away just as he pulled the trigger. The gun blasted a hole through the ceiling tile.

  Savannah screamed, ducking down and scampering to the back of the store, clutching Tinkerbell to her body.

  Eli said, “You dick!”

  Keeping his hands locked around the gunman’s wrist, Eli struggled to maintain the weapon pointing up at the ceiling. Eli shoved him back into a shelf and the man groaned, as he slammed against it hard. Candy bars fell to the floor as Eli pushed him harder, sliding him along the top of the shelf spilling items everywhere. He drove him to the edge where the two teetered back and forth inches from tumbling off the side.

  Leaning back, the man’s gaze locked onto Eli’s hand for a few moments and his expression relaxed a bit. “You know you have really nice hands. Soft and—”

  “What?” Eli said through gritted teeth.

  What a fucking odd thing to say in the middle of a life and death struggle. Crazy bastard!

  Savannah poked her head out from around the corner of a rack. She narrowed her eyes at the struggling pair. Eli glanced to her and they shared an odd expression.

  “It’s just that my mother was an agent for…” Without finishing that thought, the gunman’s expression quickly changed. He fought back, righting himself as the two continued to scuffle
with Eli’s hands still gripping his wrists. Battling it out in the center of the store, Eli grunted and kneed the man in the groin. The man let out a whiny groan, and the gun flew out of his hand. The man fell to the floor, curling up in a ball, writhing in pain. The gun slid across the tiles as the police burst through the door.

  Police cars, ambulances and three news vans lined the outside of the store. After the paramedics examined him and the police interrogated him, Eli stood next to Savannah. Film crews interviewed the famous singer as she held her precious little dog.

  A reporter asked, “Did you fear for your life in there?”

  “It was terrifying,” Savannah began before turning to Eli. “He saved me.”

  Tinkerbell barked, squirming from Savannah’s arms then leaping toward Eli. The hero scooped up the dog to keep it from falling. He brought it close to his body and it bathed his face with tiny licks.

  “Wow.” Eli pulled back and smiled, petting the excited pup.

  “He likes you,” Savannah said.

  The reporter asked, “Will the concert go on as scheduled tonight?”

  “I would never let my fans down.”

  Savannah’s manager, Derek, rushed over to the action, putting his hand in the air as he stepped between the singer and the cameras. “Speaking of that concert, we’ve got to go. We’ll be scheduling a press conference for tomorrow.”

  A reporter called out, “Savannah, is it true that you’ve broken up with Carter?”

  “That’s it. We’re done.” Derek wrapped his arm around Savannah’s shoulder, standing between her and the reporter.

  “I need Tinkerbell,” she said.

  Derek turned, directing his client back to Eli. He held the dog out for her.

  “Thanks.” Savannah grabbed him, cuddling the pooch in her arms.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Derek muttered before he ushered her away and toward a black SUV.

  Eli watched as they disappeared into the car and the reporters and camera crews followed them to the vehicle. He turned away and sighed, gazing first to the police cars with their flashing lights then to the store as the officers inside worked the scene.

  He headed toward his car, reaching into his pocket for his keys.