~~
“Hey, kiddo.”
It was Dex on the phone. We had gone from texting and emailing each other whenever we had something to say, to calling each other every now and then, sometimes just to talk. At least our relationship had progressed in that way.
After I had arrived home from the boot camp and took a hot shower to wash the mud off and ease my aches and pains, I roamed the house looking for my sister, Ada. For once, I was miffed that she wasn’t at home. Not that she was home all that often, especially since she started dating this guy Layton, who was two grades older than her (my sister is 15), but I needed to talk to her. I know this sounds stupid coming from a 23-year old, but I wanted her advice on boys. What happened with Brock had simultaneously torn me up and excited me and I needed to vent to someone about it. I had become more and more dependent on Ada as a friend instead of viewing her as just a sister.
Which was great, but on this night it left me feeling fidgety. And talking to Dex wouldn’t help either. Though Dex was my friend in every sense of the word, and I trusted my life to him, he was the last person I could vent about this to.
Regardless…
“Hey Dex,” I said, cradling my phone against my ear. I didn’t just say it though, I smiled it. I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, thumbing through an old issue of Guitar World magazine, looking for inspiration and an excuse to use my electric guitar that sat forlornly in the corner of my room.
“How was The Biggest Loser?” he asked, the amusement flitting along the trough of his deep voice. It was his nickname for the bootcamp, despite the number of times I told him there were no real fat people in the group.
“It was…interesting,” I said and suddenly didn’t want to say anymore about it.
“That guy still riding you hard?”
I snickered. I couldn’t help myself.
“What?” he asked, never one to like being left out of a joke.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to hide the smirk in my tone. “Only one more class, then I’ll be buff enough to kick anyone’s ass.”
“You already were buff enough to kick anyone’s ass. I don’t think my nose will ever be the same.”
Oh, that’s right. I ended up punching Dex right in the nose while we were on the leper island. I could barely remember what it had been about; there were a lot of things about the island that I had tried to block out (not his head between my legs and his grip on my hips however), but all I knew was that it had been a long time coming. I still felt bad about it, in a vague way, but it wasn’t keeping me up at night. Dex liked to bring it up occasionally, just to keep me on my toes.
“What can I say, you’re an easy shot. But I don’t think the rest will be like you.”
“The rest? You’re planning on going around and punching more people in the face?”
“People…ghosts.”
“From Ghostbusters to Facebusters?”
“Something like that. Anyway, I feel better and that’s the point.”
He was quiet for a second. Then, softly, he said, “I know, kiddo. Don’t think I wasn’t thinking about it myself. If you hadn’t done it, I would have suggested it. You’re right, about what you said before, that we won’t always be so lucky.”
I didn’t like getting into touchy subjects like this on the phone. It made me want him too much.
“Well, perhaps you oughta be taking some sort of self-defense class or something,” I suggested lightly.
“I don’t need self-defense. I have you,” he said. I could almost hear him grinning over the phone. “Anyhoo, I have some good news.”
I didn’t spend much time wondering what it was before he announced, “We got it.”
“Got…it?”
“Permission. From the mental hospital. Riverside. They said next week, Tuesday and possibly Thursday, they’ll let us in to film.”
Since returning from D’Arcy Island, Dex had been trying nonstop to get one of Seattle’s oldest mental institutes to open their doors to us. The Riverside mental hospital was reputed to be one of the most haunted places in Washington State. So far, many ghost hunters, including some with bigwig TV shows, had tried to film the hospital and were turned down. Understandably, considering that the hospital was at least 30% operational. It was a dying, costly breed but it still housed some people who needed the strictest mental care.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“I can be pretty persuasive,” he said. Yeah. Persuasive or pushy and annoying.
“Uh huh.”
“And, again, I think because we’re small and on the internet we’re kind of reputable. They know this isn’t the Hollywood treatment; we aren’t sensationalists. I’m still not sure what exactly we are allowed to film but it’s still great news. I’ve been going fucking mental over here over this.”
It sounded like he was making a pun, but I knew he wasn’t. It was a spooky slip of the tongue. Not only was Dex on medication for his so-called mental condition (which I was starting to call “Deximia”), but I recently learned he had been in a mental hospital himself. Ever since he brought up this mission of his to secure us a chance to film in Riverside, I had wanted to bring up the whole mental institute thing. You know, how is this a good idea considering your past (and present) and all that, but I couldn’t find the right way to say it. And again, something I didn’t want to get into over the phone with him.
But if digging up his past bothered him, for once he wasn’t showing it. Perhaps he felt a need to prove something to me, or himself. That he was over it. That it was in the past. I just hoped he knew what we were getting into.
Still, I repeated, “Mental?”
“Yeah,” he said without missing a beat. “Fucking mad as fucking madness. Jimmy has been breathing down my neck about what our next plans were but I just felt – no, I just knew – that eventually the people at Riverside would cave in and let us. That’s why I didn’t want to book us anywhere else. Fuck, I didn’t look anywhere else.”
Jimmy was his boss. Well, our boss. And he was very good at breathing down Dex’s neck. Luckily, I never had to deal with the jerk, only through Dex.
“Well, gamble paid off then.”
“Paid in spades and worked out perfectly. Next Friday is the Shownet Christmas party and I figured you’d come up to Seattle for that anyway.”
That was presumptuous of Dex, as usual. Granted, I still didn’t have a full-time job, so it wasn’t like I wouldn’t be able to take time off or anything. It’s just assuming I’d go all the way to Seattle for a Christmas party, one that I hadn’t been officially invited to. I still didn’t feel part of this whole company, even though they were the ones playing my meager salary.
“Perry?”
“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking,” I said, scrunching up my forehead with my hand. “Are you sure I’m invited?”
“To the party? Don’t be a tard, kiddo. Of course you are. I just invited you.”
“Yeah, I know. But I don’t know, I just don’t feel like I belong to your whole work thing. And I haven’t gotten an invitation in the mail or anything.”
“Ah, jeez. Come on. You do belong to the whole work thing, and if there’s any reason that you feel like you don’t, it’s because you haven’t met anyone else but me. And Jimmy that one time. And I swear, the rest of the crew is so much nicer than Jimmy and I put together. We’re the rats of the whole bunch.”
That was probably true. “But…”
“Also, everyone knew I would be the one inviting you. Everyone expects you. Everyone wants to finally meet the famous Perry Palomino, the reason I have a broken nose.”
“Oh, Dex, you didn’t,” I stammered, feeling my heart drop.
“Didn’t tell them you punched me in the nose? I told everyone you punched me in the nose. It’s a good story.”
Oh fuck. My face flushed red with heat. I had already been worried what people at Shownet thought of me and now they thought of me as a partner puncher.
“I bet Jenn wants to kill me,” I whispered.
“Uh. Well, no. She laughed and said I must have deserved it. And I did. And everyone is really, really jealous of you, Jimmy especially. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up getting some special plaque for it.”
I shook my head, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it over the phone.
“So, it doesn’t matter. You’re coming. And it would be better if you could come a few days earlier too. Say, Sunday night.”
“Well, how long is Shownet going to cover the motel costs, cuz I can’t afford anything right now.”
“Motel? No, you’ll be staying with us.”
My breath froze somewhere in my throat. I had to cough to get it out.
“Us?”
“Yeah. Forget about a motel. We have the spare room. You’ll stay with me, Jenn and Fat Rabbit.”
“Who the fuck is Fat Rabbit?”
“Fat Rabbit is our dog.”
This was all too much. I wasn’t sure what to focus on, the fact that I would be staying with Jenn and Dex, or the fact that they had a dog. A dog called Fat Rabbit.
“When in God’s name did you get a dog, Dex?”
I heard him scratch his chin scruff over the phone. “Hmmm, maybe a week ago. I sold my old apartment, got a new one. And the new one allows dogs. And now we have a spare bedroom, perfect for guests like you. You’ll be our first one.”
“I need to lie down,” I managed to say, and did just that. I lay back onto my bed with a pillowy thunk, while Dex explained that his old apartment in the Queen Anne district had been for sale for a while. Someone finally bought it and they snapped up one in Belltown, right beneath the monorail. And all this time, Jenn had wanted a dog but they weren’t allowed pets. Now that they were, Jenn went and bought some sort of white French Bulldog that apparently looked like, well, a fat rabbit.
I didn’t know what was more disturbing. The fact that all this happened and Dex never said a word of it to me or the fact that they got a dog together. Sure, there was no kid on the way, thank God, but a dog was a huge commitment.
And now I had the chance to see it all up close.
Still, I couldn’t turn Dex down. If I did, he’d think something was up. And honestly, as much as the idea of living with Jenn and Dex made me want to vomit (for real, the bile was making its way up) and cry, I couldn’t afford to be in a motel, not after all the money I’d spent in the last few weeks.
I did have to turn down Sunday night though. Because that was my date with Brock.
“I’m sorry…what?” Dex said after I told him.
“I have a date,” I repeated.
He burst out laughing. The anger steamed up inside me.
“What’s so funny, asshole?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, kiddo. It’s not funny, it’s just surprising. Who is it with?”
“Brock. My bootcamp trainer.”
He started laughing again. Howling, actually. When he calmed down long enough he sputtered, “The ‘roid monkey?”
“He’s not a ‘roid monkey!” I said defensively, even though I had called him that earlier. Ugh, I definitely talked to Dex too much. “And so what, why can’t I go out with him?”
I was hoping Dex would say something that would make me think he was jealous in some way. But no.
“You can go out with whoever the hell you want to, kiddo. But you’re a hard rock chick of sorts and he’s a jock. And those two types don’t mix.”
“Dex, this isn’t high school. Grow up.”
“Some things don’t change.”
“Oh, were you a fuckface back in high school too?”
Pause. I knew he was taken aback at my ferocity.
“Yes. And a skid and a bit of a punk.”
“Well so was I,” I reasoned.
“It’s too bad we didn’t go to high school together,” he said. “We would have made a good couple.”
I swear, I was this close to hanging up the phone. Or throwing it against the wall.
But Dex continued, smoothly, “Listen, if this date is important to you, Perry, then by all means go on it. Come up on Monday. We’ll figure something out.”
The weight behind his voice made me reconsider whether the date was worth it or not. What if it was more important for the show for me to be there earlier? What if an opportunity came along? I could always go out with Brock when I got back.
“It’s nice to see you have a social life for once,” he added.
And that comment made all the difference.
“Monday it is,” I growled into the phone.