Finding Friday

by Quell T Fox

  ​If my feet could talk, they’d be squealing with excitement right about now. The same way my stomach would be, knowing that I’m about to get some food. I tuck the flyer into my purse and walk out the door, noting that the parking lot is empty aside from one jeep that’s parked in a spot facing the street. My eyes glance up to the now empty second floor where the nosey bastard was last night. A quick chill runs over my body and I start walking to my destination.

  ​The weather today is nice, good for walking. The sun is shining, but there is a cool breeze blowing. I think it rained last night because the ground is damp. By the time I get to there, my stomach is cramping. Either from walking, starving or both. And my feet aren’t as happy as I thought they’d be, apparently, they are still mad at me for yesterday and they are making it known. They’re sore and throbbing.

  Breakfast rush must be over, the lot is mostly empty, but lunch rush will start soon. I sit myself in the back corner, as the sign tells patrons to seat themselves. I’m soon greeted by a young girl, with beautiful big blue eyes and perfectly tan skin. I’m kind of jealous. She leaves a menu on the table and lets me know that she will be right back with my coffee. I look over the menu, deciding on an omelet. No matter what I get, I know it will be good. Small diners always have fantastic food. I know I’m starving, because my stomach tells me so but I don’t have much of an appetite. The stress of yesterday still taking a toll on me. I don’t like to eat when I’m pissed off. I’m trying hard not to be, but I don’t work that way. I really can’t afford to lose any weight though, I’m finally happy with where I am, weight wise.

  ​The waitress returns a few moments later with my coffee, the delicious smell perks me right up. I give her my order as I pour the cream into my coffee. I take a sip of heaven and lean back into the cushioned seat. I’m lost in thought when I hear a group of loud voices enter the building. I look up to see four really good-looking guys walk in. They’re laughing and talking to each other, very loudly. Clearly no consideration for others. I narrow my eyes at them, as they take a seat in the corner furthest from me. Keeping my eyes on them, I realize that one of the guys is the guy from last night. I’m sure of it, his perfect hair is recognizable, along with those yummy muscles. He looks up, catching my gaze and I quickly look away. Not wanting to poke the bear. Maybe if it were a real bear, yeah, I’d totally poke a real bear. They are soft, and cuddly. The fact that they can tear your face off with one swipe of their paw makes them that much more badass.

  ​I look out the window and sip on my coffee until my food comes, it doesn’t take long. The waitress places my food in front of me and I take my time with it, more like forcing it. It’s good, really good but I can only finish half. I take so long to eat that the four guys are finished before me, the balcony guy winking at me as he walks out the door.

  ​What an arrogant asshole.

  ​The young waitress, named Kelsey, walks over and asks if I’d like a container for the unfinished half of my omelet. I decline, mostly because I don’t want to carry it with me while I walk. She removes my plate and heads towards the kitchen but doubles back almost instantly. “By the way, those guys that just left, they paid for your food so you’re good to go.”

  ​Why would they do that?

  ​“Oh, okay. Thank you,” I say, questioningly.

  ​“You have a great day now.”

  ​“You too,” my words come out quiet, a bit dazed. That really threw me off. I wasn’t expecting my breakfast to be paid for, but I’ll take what I can get. But why is that guy being so weird? Before leaving, I ask the waitress where I can get a new phone and she directs me to a phone store a few miles down the road, further away from the motel. Fantastic. I thank her and leave, heading towards my next destination. My feet yelling before I can even make it out the door.

  ​As I’m walking, I regret not putting on my sneakers. Why don’t I think about these things beforehand? I swear sometimes I have horrible decision-making skills. Okay, most of the time. And as if bad luck is attracted to my already negative state, the sky turns an eerily dark grey in a matter of minutes. Just my luck. I better make it to and from the phone store before it starts to rain. Literally, as soon as I step into the store, it starts to down pour.

  ​Just fucking great.

  ​Not wanting to worry about that now, I walk towards the back of the store, past the rows of electronics and stop when I see the young blonde man behind the desk. He’s tall and has way too much gel in his hair.

  ​“Good morning, welcome to Darney’s Electronics, how can I help you today?” His voice is too high pitched and too happy, he’s a salesman through and through. Before responding, I look to his name tag. People react to you better to you when you use their name. Shows you’re paying attention or something, personalizing the conversation.

  ​“Hi Brad, actually yes, you can help me.” I pull the smashed phone from my purse and lay it on the counter in front of me.

  “I need a new phone and hopefully everything from my old one can be transferred to the new one.” My boobs aren’t hanging out today for my benefit. I’m not in the mood to pretend today, anyway. It’s a say-it-how-it-is kinda day. No bullshit. Take it or leave it.

  “Of course, I can help you with that. What kind of phone are you interested in? Do you have insurance on this thing?” He picks it up and wiggles it between his fingers.

  “Nope, no insurance and whatever cheap phone you have that’s similar to that thing.” I point to the old phone, the one I’ve had for way too long. I guess this could be a good thing. New phone, who dis? You know.

  “There is a deal going on right now. The newest Smart Phone is half off…if you pay in cash.”

  New? Even half the price it’s probably more than I can afford.

  “How much would that be, Brad? I’m running on a budget here.” I tap the counter with my unpolished nail. I never got into those girly things.

  “You caught me on a good day, so I’m gonna give you a break. If you buy the new phone, on top of the half off, I’ll give you my discount.”

  “Numbers, Brad. Talk to me in numbers,” I say boredly.

  “$325.00, even.”

  “Hmm, that’s a little above my—”

  “Okay, here’s what I’ll do, final offer. I’ll give it to you for $250.00.”

  “You don’t get a lot of business around here, do you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I’ll take it,” a smirk sliding across my lips.

  An hour later I’m waiting out front of Darney’s, hiding under the tiny awning that is doing absolutely nothing for shielding me from the rain, for the bus that should have been here ten minutes ago. But I haven’t seen one drive by at all since I’ve been at the store, so I couldn’t have missed it… I tell myself that I’ll wait a few more minutes before walking in the rain, because at this point, I just don’t care if I get soaked. Just as I am about to start walking, the bus pulls up and I jog to the open door and up the steps. Putting the exact change into the dispenser, I take a seat towards the front. I pull out my brand new, bright red phone and start going through things.

  Twenty-four missed calls, four voicemails, thirty-two texts and nine new e-mails. Not wanting to deal with any of this right now, I drop my phone back in my purse, knowing that they must all be from Douche. I haven’t logged into any social media yet, but I’ll bet he’s messaged me on every account that I have. He never was one to let things go. Me on the other hand, it’s so easy to cut the cord.

  The bus driver lets me off in front of the motel door, it isn’t an actual stop but since I’m the only person on the bus he said he didn’t mind driving into the lot for me. Since it’s down pouring and all. I’ve noticed that people in this town are really friendly, and I start to worry that I’ve happened upon one of those weird towns that kidnap tourists and wear their skin. I hope not. As I walk back to my room, using the second-floor landing as cover, I notice that guy leaning over the railing again, having another smoke. I w
alk closer to the building, hoping he can’t see me. I refuse to look at him, because he weirds me out. I get a strange feeling when he’s near, like my skin is tingling. I feel on edge, and not in a good way. It’s creepy. He tries starting a conversation with me, then pays for me food…I’m in no place to make new friends. No thanks, buddy.

  “I don’t get a ‘thank you’ for buying you breakfast?” Damnit, I thought I was good when I made it to my door without a word.

  Fan-fucking-tastic. There goes my ignoring him. What is with this guy? I back up enough so that I can see him, the rain dying down a little, so I’m not worried about hiding from it anymore.

  “That all depends, why did you pay my bill? I am capable of paying for my own things, you know.” I place my hand on my hip, for added effect. It doesn’t seem to work, because I see his eyes laughing when they notice my movement.

  “What? A guy can’t buy a beautiful girl breakfast?” The audacity.

  “Please, like I haven’t heard that before. Sorry dude, but I’m not interested.”

  I walk into my room, locking the door behind me. I secure it with the latch, just in case. You never know what kind of nutcases you’ll run into on the road, especially in a small town like this. Not having anything to do, I decide that I should check the missed notifications on my phone and get it over with. Then, I can soak in a nice hot tub and hope that I get good news about my car. After I thoroughly scrub it, that is. The longer it takes, the less likely it is to be good news. The car, that is. If it was just an empty gas tank, I’d have it back by now. It’s not a brand-new car, by any means but it’s gotten me from A to B. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s beyond repair. I took care of it as best I could, but you can only do so much with a car as old as that one.

  Stepping out of my flip-flops I lay down on the bed on my belly and unlock my new phone. As suspected, most of the missed calls were from him. A few were from numbers I don’t recognize, probably telemarketers wanting to tell me about the expiring warranty on my car. No way in hell that POS has a valid warranty. Luckily, I don’t have to listen to the voicemails since this phone comes with the voicemail to text option, and the bullshit words that would send my anger into overdrive are written across the screen. Making it a little easier to tolerate. Of course, he’s still a shithead though. Next, I go through the texts. They start off with him telling me that it wasn’t what it looked like, then the guilt strikes and he’s apologizing and then, yep, you guessed it. Anger. Shocking, I know.

  I clear the notifications, contemplating on blocking his number or not but decide against it. I’d rather know how crazy he gets, if he does get crazy at all. He was never an overly angry person, not really. I saw him get mad for valid reasons, but he was a jealous, sometimes extremely and now I know why. Our relationship was mostly normal, it seemed like things were going well, but then again, they always seem that way, don’t they? Four years of my life down the drain over some blonde bitch that he met less than a year ago. Couldn’t even have the decency to break up with me first. Gross. I would have let him, too. I wouldn’t have put up a fight about it. If he didn’t want to be with me, he should have told me. Problem is, he’s a greedy bastard and he needed both of us. Needed the security of me, but the excitement from her. Fucking dickhead.

  I pull myself up from the warm and comfy bed and walk into the bathroom. I eye the tub and mull over whether or not I really want to do this. It isn’t the worst tub I’d have bathed in, but it’s sketchy. I really could use a bath right now, though. Letting out a sigh I grab one of the half-folded towels from the shelf above the toilet, wet it and start scrubbing the tub. Nothing comes off, I’m convinced that it’s stained and not actively dirty. I’ll live. I turn the knobs to fill the tub. I find a small bottle of bubble bath that I dump in, it’s the cheap stuff but it smells good. The purple lavender goop seeps out of the bottle slowly and mixes with the water, causing small bubbles to form. I strip my clothes, leaving them on the bathroom floor and get into the tub. Once I can’t fit any more water, I turn it off and lay my head back against the towel protected wall. I don’t trust it that much. Deep breaths, in and out. The steam and smell of lavender fills my nostrils and I feel myself relaxing a little more as each second goes by. Unsure of how much time as gone by I raise my fingers from the water, little droplets dripping off quickly at first and then slower. They’re pruney, aaaand I’ma head out.

  I switch the lever down to empty the water from the tub. I reach for the towel that I left on the counter and wrap myself in it after drying my hair. I walk to the mirror and wipe away the condensation with my hand. My skin is paler than normal, dark circles are starting to form under my eyes and my honey colored irises, normally bright and intense now look dull and dreary. I’ve always liked my round face, thinking that it makes me look younger than I am. Not that I’m old by any means but twenty-seven is only a few years til thirty. And thirty is that scary age. The one where you feel that you need to have your life together, and if you don’t then you’re a failure and completely suck at life.

  I towel dry my auburn hair - okay so it’s not my natural color, but no one needs to know that. It looks good against my cream skin. Leaving the wet towels in the corner of the room I dig out more comfy clothes to wear, throwing them on and plopping onto the bed to watch TV. This room is…okay, for a motel. I’ve stayed in worse, way worse. The bed is comfy, the TV isn’t flat screen, but it’s big. There are a decent number of channels and the room is relatively clean. Realization hits me that tonight is the last night that I have to stay here. I’m sure I could pay for another, but that’s just delaying the inevitable. Now that I have a working phone, I decide to go online and check the bank account instead of walking to the ATM. It’s only across the street but I’ve done more walking in the last two days than I have done in a long time and my body is sore. I should have stopped before coming back here, but I spaced it out. The thoughts of hot water and a soft bed took over my brain.

  Checking the bank app, I realize that Douche was kind enough to leave me $500.00 in the account.

  How fucking sweet of him.

  CHAPTER 4

  I check my phone for the hundredth time in probably twenty minutes, hoping for news on the car. Nothing and it’s starting to get dark. In this instance, no news is most definitely not good news. I slip on my flip-flops and head out the door. I walk across the street to the gas station in search of Todd and my car. When I walk into the store there is an older woman behind the counter. I walk to the back of the store hitting the ATM first wanting to remove the last of the money before it’s gone. No such luck, it’s not there anymore. The balance is literally zero. Not even a penny left. Shit. I only have myself to blame. I should have stopped by earlier. Slightly annoyed with life, I go to the freezer section and grab a few frozen meals. Normally I would never eat this type of thing, I know they are terrible for you and they taste like cardboard, but they’re cheap and I’m working on a budget right now.

  The older woman takes the items and rings them up, one by one. “Hi, is Todd working today?” I hand her a twenty to cover the items.

  ​She huffs before answering, “you trying to buy drugs?” She hands me my change.

  ​“Uh, no?”

  ​She narrows her eyes at me, and I raise an eyebrow. I’m not backing down from this old hag. So much for everyone around here being friendly…or maybe she was offering?

  ​“He’ll be in soon,” she practically spits out.

  ​“Okay, he’s helping me out with my car, is it possible to—”

  ​“Oh, is that your car out back? The one with the blown gasket?” Her tone is dripping with schadenfreude – look it up.

  ​“I fucking hope not,” I ignore the tone for now, because it isn’t important. My baby is dead? I place my hand on the counter, “sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. What kind of car is back there?”

  ​“Some kind of Buick. Black, I think.” She shrugs like this isn’t a huge deal.

  ​
“Damn, yeah I think that’s my car. Do you have Todd’s number?” She eyes me warily. “Better yet, here is my phone number. Could you please give it to him when he gets in? Ask him to call me as soon as he can.” I write my number down on an old receipt that I find at the bottom of my purse and slide it across the table to her. She picks it up and pockets it. “Please, it’s important.” She blinks but says nothing. I grab my bag and go.

  ​I was hopeful about the car and now that’s ruined. I thought I would have more money, but nope. I should have gotten off my lazy ass earlier and taken the money out when I knew that it was there. Fuck. I mentally punch myself, because a slap just won’t suffice.

  ​My phone rings, I pull it out of my purse to check on who is calling. Private Caller. No thanks, I click the side button to end the call, and shove the phone back into my purse. I’m digging out my key from the dark depths of my purse when a chill runs up my spine, causing me to shiver. Someone is standing behind me. I turn around, to find the creep from upstairs leaning on one of the support beams. He screams arrogance, even just standing there. His stance is…cocky.

  ​“Can I help you?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

  ​“Why are you here?”

  ​“Excuse me?” Completely shocked by his question, and I don’t hide my strong emotion about his unacceptable forwardness.

  ​“What are you doing here?” He asks me again, this time slowing down and annunciating each word. Cocky asshole.

  ​“That is none of your damn business.” I could walk into my room, but that part of my brain that’s watched too many shows on murders tells me that if I open the door it’ll give him the opportunity to walk right in after me. Trapping me inside with him. Which, if he wasn’t a murderer could be a lot of fun…but I can’t chance that. He’s a lot bigger than me, those muscles are yummy looking. I lick my lips, eyeing his arms, and mentally slap myself for doing so. The cocky smirk that moves across his face makes me want to slap him, instead.