Kings County by David Goodwillie

Author:David Goodwillie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Avid Reader Press / Simon & Schuster
Published: 2020-07-28T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Where’s the bathroom?” A hand was shaking her shoulder. She brushed it off. “Seriously, wake up. I gotta go bad.”

A name. Audrey kept her eyes closed, stalling. Dinner… concert… after-party… Everett! She raised her arm in the general direction of her bedroom door. “Other side of the living room,” she rasped.

“What about your roommates? Are they home?”

She buried her head under the pillow. How would she know? Anyway, that’s part of the deal, buddy. She remained silent. The pain in her head was pervasive. When Everett slipped out, she checked the alarm clock. 1:33 p.m. Fuck. What had happened? Drugs. Whiskey. Ten thousand cigarettes. No sex. She listened through the wall for sounds from Sarah’s room but heard nothing. She must be at Chris’s place, she thought, and began drifting off, only to be awakened again by Everett’s return. She opened a single eye. He was standing inside the door, completely naked.

“I couldn’t find my boxers.”

“Ever heard of a towel?”

“I don’t know where you keep them.”

Audrey looked at the towel hanging on the door beside his head but didn’t bother.

“I thought your roommates were gone,” he said.

“I never said that.”

“Because one of them’s definitely here. I just met her.”

“Sarah?”

Everett shook his head. “The other one. Small, pixie hair, pale as fuck.”

“Iris.”

“I guess. She didn’t exactly introduce herself. She just raised her eyebrows and walked past me into her room.”

“Sounds about right,” Audrey said.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, I’m hungover.”

“Well, here.” Everett took her hand and placed it on his penis, as if that might solve the problem. It might, actually, Audrey thought, feeling it harden. He asked if she was on the pill. She was. She didn’t mention condoms and neither did he. (She knew this was stupid, but good luck had made her careless.) Everett maneuvered above her. She spread her legs and told him to go slow. And he did, for a little while. Then he sped up, and she bit her lip and braced herself against the wall. He pulled her left leg over his shoulder and pushed in deeper. My God, she thought. Or did she say it out loud? She grabbed his hair, he grabbed her neck, and they fucked, hard. The Murphy bed was squeaking, but Audrey didn’t care. She was about to orgasm but prolonged the moment, savored it, dwelled in it, until—no!—he beat her to it, pulling out without warning and, predictably, coming all over her tits, which she thoughtfully pushed together for him. Whatever. Still better than higher up. They lay there in silence. Then she pointed at the towel.

She kind of liked him, certainly enough to be with him again. She thought about taking care of herself, of making him take care of her, but Everett was already getting dressed, so she slipped her underwear on and grabbed a white oxford from the nearest pile of clothes. Through the thin wall, she heard the front door open and shut, then keys thrown on the counter, and a minute later, Sarah in the kitchen, singing “Hollaback Girl.

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