Story Jots # 11 (a) – Red Door, Blue Cadillac

Well, we’re home. This is me. 

Hey, sweetie. You awake? 

Oh, right. Of course, you’re not. You had that last drink now, didn’t you? With a little something extra from me. I knew you couldn’t say no. None of you do. My looks are a curse, I swear. Anyway, let’s go in… shall we? 

A man lifts a young woman out of his blue Cadillac and shuffles her half-limp body along with the weight of his own toward the front door of his house. She is wearing a short black dress that sparkled each time a streetlight caught her sequins a certain way. She was semi-conscious. She had no shoes, no purse, no phone, and because her makeup had long melted away you could tell she was half the age of the man she was now draped over. With her petite frame shifting over his shoulder with a step, her head drifts next to his. The man smiles and whispers something into her exposed ear.  

You know, all I do is show up looking like I do. I talk a bit about where I buy my clothes, the places I’ve been, flash around a little money, and they’re all over me like cheap cologne. You are cheap cologne, you know that? Nothing but cheap cologne.

A few more laboured strides and they stumble through the blood-red doorway. 

Sweetie, a little help here. Lift that foot for me will ya? Come on. One, two, easy now. Just this last step and… we….have… made the couch. Ah, there you go. Perfect.

Glancing out the window, the man could see the sun was starting to peak over the rooftops of his neighbour’s homes. Before long his calm nothing happens here cul-de-sac will become littered with morning joggers, baby strollers, and dog walkers. The usual looky-loos would soon begin their gawking peeps through their kitchen blinds while the coffee brewed. He felt panic for the very first time. The trip from the nightclub and the walk from the car took a lot longer than normal. The ritual tethered very close to abort status. Muscle memory got him this far and that made his head spin. Thoughts of someone seeing them were pausing his every move since they made it into the house. This was foreign to him but this was also his third attempt in a month due to carelessness. He was making mistakes and now he’s positive the pretty redhead drooling on his couch across the room would be his last.