Lex (Unconventional Hearts) (14 page)

Nodding, in agreement, I mutter. “I guess
you’re right. I know he’s from around here, but I’ve not met him
before now. I know it’s not a huge town, and I can’t know
everybody. But, you’re right he’s hard to forget.”

Chatting a few more minutes about Roni and
this mystery man, I hug Barbie again and head out. I want to get
home and raid Roni’s closet tonight before we go out to the Devil’s
Den tomorrow. She needs a presentable outfit to wear, especially if
this is her and Bob’s coming out party; coming out of the bedroom
that is.

“Seriously? Veronica Ann Phoenix, you have
the worst and most disgusting closet I’ve ever fucking seen!” I’m
past my breaking point. I don’t know how this crazy woman finds
anything in her apartment. It looks like an entire horde of
gremlins got lose in here and trashed the place. No woman should
live like this.

Standing in her bedroom, it doesn’t smell
like anything but sex and ashtrays. It’s vile. Now…don’t get me
wrong, I understand that Bob smokes. I really do. But smoking in
here after sex is totally cliché, not to mention stinky and just
plain gross. I can’t see a stitch of her carpet. Which, if I
remember correctly, is a beige of some sort. It’s covered in piles
of clothes, pop bottles and blankets. Her bed isn’t even close to
being made. The pillows aren’t even on it. And one of the blinds is
hanging half off its track.

I can’t believe this woman is my best friend.
I have no idea how I’m going to find a single clean thing in this
place that would be acceptable for her to wear.

Sitting on the edge of her queen sized bed,
she grunts. “Yeah…I know it’s pretty bad, huh?”

Pretty bad? She thinks this is pretty bad? I
saw a pizza box sitting on her coffee table growing some serious
green hairy mold when I walked into her living room. That is not
pretty
anything. It’s a rank biohazard, and it’s disgusting.
I will need to perform a complete decontamination process on myself
when I head back down stairs, into my nice, clean and most
importantly, pleasant smelling home.

Correct me if I’m wrong. Say you walk into a
place, it’s a pigsty, but it smells half way decent. It doesn’t
seem as bad, does it? Then picture yourself walking into a place
just as dirty but smelled like rotted garbage, musky come, and
cigarettes. Then…how would you feel? Probably how I do, because
that’s what the rest of her place smells like. N.A.S.T.Y.

Stepping on a mountain of something, I’m not
sure what it is. It looks like clothes, but I’m not lifting the
pile to find out what might be underneath. Rats are probably
nesting in here.

“It’s not pretty bad. It’s real bad. We both
have a lot of money and you need to use it to have a biohazard
cleanup team to come in and decontaminate your living quarters.” I
state is as evenly and calmly as I can. And I mean every single
damned word.

“I know.” She slumps and I bend down to pick
up what resembles a black
something
, off the floor of her
bare closet. There isn’t a single thing hanging in here, and the
floor of it has another mountain of what I assume are clean clothes
piling up. Or I pray it’s that, because I don’t want some blood
crazed clothes monster to manifest and attack me. The organisms
living in this place could probably sustain an entire ecosystem. A
clothes monster doesn’t seem so far out of reach.

Raising the black
something
into the
air, I shake it hard; pinching it between two fingers to unwrinkle
the ball it’s cemented in.

Ah…it’s a shirt. Holding it out, I examine
it. It’s not a shirt I think I’ve ever seen Roni wear. It’s a
V-neck cotton tank with a cute flaming red heart in the center.
This will have to do. I don’t have the stomach to look much
longer.

Showing it to her, she shrugs. “Yes?” I press
further.

“It’s fine. I don’t care.”

Alright, something’s up.

Climbing through her gross clothes in my
heels, pencil skirt and silk white pheasant top, I get close enough
to her bed that I rest a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s up, Sassy Britches?”

“I don’t want to go.”

Okay, now she’s moping. I’d mope too if I
lived in a place like this, but I know that’s not what she’s
referring too. Dating and Roni don’t exactly mix, just as me and
dating don’t. Except our reasons aren’t the same, per say. Mine is
mainly a physical one with emotional baggage. Hers is a tomboy one.
In her mind and the way she acts, she’s not so much of a girl as
she is a guy. She fits in with men, she likes manly things, she
dresses like a dude, has the sex drive of a dude. Although she
doesn’t have a gender identity problem, she’s okay with being a
woman and having a vagina and a set of nice knockers. We’ve talked
about this many times. Just as most men suck at dating. She sucks
at it just as much, if not worse. I think it’s fear that gets its
big ugly nose in the way. Fear that whomever she’s with will expect
her to be something she’s not. She could never and would never be
like me. I’m girly and female to my very core. She’s not. That’s
one of the things I love most about her.

“Listen.” I rub her shoulder. I’d hug her but
that would make her more uncomfortable.

“I know dating isn’t going to be easy with
Bob. I know you really like him. He’s a nice guy. Cute, sweet and
obviously likes to bang the living shit outa ya. Give it a go, and
I’ll hold your hand. K?”

“K. Thanks.” She sighs, relaxing her tense
shoulders.

Five more minutes of standing here with her
and draping the black shirt over her shoulders, she seems to be in
a little better place now. I take that as my cue and skedaddle.

“If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” I
remind her, standing in the doorway between her bedroom and the
rest of her apartment.

“Yes, Lex. In the tub, listening to Patsy and
probably trying to ignore the fact you just blew off a perfectly
acceptable man.”

Rolling me eyes and stomping my heel on the
floor in anger. She looks at me, making eye contact.

“Stop reading my emails!” I snap.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just tell me
about them.”

“They are none of your business. If I wanted
help, I would ask for it. I don’t like him anymore. He’s gotta be a
crazy lunatic, and I know a man like him would never accept me.
Even if he’s been through some of the stuff I have. Trust me; he’s
not been through it all.”

“At least he has experienced some of what you
have. Isn’t that better than nothing at all?”

“No! Not dating at all is better. I like my
life, Roni; I want to keep it that way it is. No men. Period. I get
my kicks when I need them with Daniel. And I’m not a nympho so the
few times a week works just fine.”

I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her or
myself. It’s true Daniel feeds my sexual hunger. Which as of late
have been arising ten times more than it ever has before. And
before him I didn’t have anyone feed my sexual need. It barely
existed. All I have to do is look in the mirror and think of Brian,
and all of those gruesome acts. That shuts down the lady throbbing
between my legs faster than a speeding bullet. Cuts and gashes
leave scars and I’ve got enough to make an entire roadmap on my
body. Front and back. Where does it lead to? I dunno. I can tell
you this for sure though, my body is no wonderland. It’s a
battlefield.

Chapter Ten

In front of the mirror, I twirl around three
times. I’m standing in my bathroom making sure I’m looking my best
for tonight’s festivities; we’re going downtown to the Devil’s
Den.

Last night, after I left Roni, I did what she
said I would. I took a bath, listened to Patsy and drank two
glasses of wine. When I got out I lounged in my silk red nightgown,
tucked into my soft luxurious bed and I read my vintage
Canterbury Tales
book, which I’ve read from cover to cover
over half dozen times. It’s not the easiest read but I thoroughly
enjoy it. Chaucer is extraordinarily prolific with his choices and
uses of words. I think that’s why I find him positively
fascinating.

‘
In my part of the land there used to
be

An archdeacon, a man of high degree,

Who’d execute with bold determination

The punishment for acts of fornication,

Of pander, also of sorcery,

Of defamation and adultery,

Of errant churchmen, of false testaments

And contracts and of lack of sacraments,

Of usury and simony also.’

This is one of my favorite excerpts from
Chaucer’s writings. He’s amazing, I tell ya.

This morning I woke up, spent an extra twenty
minutes gracefully curving and flowing through a yoga routine I use
to anchor my chi into a more relaxed state. Then I showered and
went downstairs to have tea with Roni in the kitchen, per usual.
She seemed to be in a slightly better mood than last evening. We
tried the nut biscotti Barbie had given us and I loved it, Roni,
not so much. She likes her biscotti to be less nutty and more
fruity or chocolaty, although, she does love the other two. I liked
the cinnamon sugar better than the salted caramel, by only a small
fraction. Then I went to work. It was a quiet day. Thank God. Now I
have twenty minutes until I meet Roni at the Devil’s Den. Bob took
her out to dinner to Vino’s tonight, before they meet up with a
group of his friends and me. Poor Roni, she doesn’t get close with
many females. I’m the only close friend she has. So we’re stuck
together.

Examining myself in the mirror, I run down my
mental checklist. Lipstick - check; I’m wearing a nude shade
tonight. Eye shadow - check, going subtle with greens and a hint of
gold. Blush, foundation, eyeliner, mascara - check, check, check,
check. Good, that’s all completed.

My hair, I’ve left down; it’s naturally
straight, silky smooth and abundantly full. I know most women would
kill to have hair like mine. It’s nice and looks better down than
up tonight.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to wear out. Like
a typical woman, I tried on ten different dresses and skirt
combinations. I don’t wear pants or shorts often. I stick with
dresses and skirts, they appear more professional, and let’s face
it, they’re sexier. God knows, I love to feel sexy.

Twirling one more time, I smile and smooth my
hair in my wide bathroom mirror that’s above my single bowl vanity.
I feel beyond beautiful tonight. This Allen Swartz jade green lace
overlay, stretch knit designer dress is to die for! It has a nude
lining that matches my skin color exactly. I’m on the taller side
for a woman so it hits me a few inches above the knee. I’ve paired
it with a pair of shiny nude colored four-inch stilettos. My bag
for the night is a golden clutch that I will end up leaving at the
table when I dance. It’s Heartfair; nobody is going to steal my
money.

Walking up the sidewalk to the Devil’s Den, I
never thought the place would be this packed on a Friday night, not
that I have much to go on. I haven’t been to a bar to party, in God
knows how long. The music is so loud I can hear it from out here.
The front of the bar isn’t much to look at. There’s a sign above
the brown metal door that says the bars name and that’s it. The
building is old, three stories and brick, just like most of the
other buildings in this town.

Dodging a stumbling drunk man slurring his
way out the door, his cell phone glued to his ear. I walk through
the front door of the bar and stop right inside, glancing between
and over a hoard of people. Praying I can find Roni in here. I
texted her five minutes ago to tell her I’d just parked. Which, by
the way, was two blocks away. There were no other parking spaces
available.

The music is thumping something about
a
window to a wall
. I don’t listen to rap, so I couldn’t tell ya
a damn thing about it. I can dance to it though. I can dance to
just about anything.