The Damned Lovely by Adam Frost

Author:Adam Frost
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

Friday, August 28th, 1:00 p.m.

Six days later I still hadn’t heard from Daphne.

Nothing

Not a squawk.

Promise.

Saturday, August 29th, 6:22 p.m.

I was back on the 5. This time, without Nick yapping in my ear. But thanks to Nick I’d learned they were having another bender to celebrate some Southern Confederate loser on this night. My ass tightened just thinking about the fire I was about to march into. The pain of the ignorance I was about to be subjected to.

But once again, good ol’ race-forward thinking Oli was workin’ the front door and greeted me with nothing but smiles and genuine kinship.

“Welcome back, amigo!”

I played the part.

I graced curious and wide-eyed.

I smiled like a good soldier.

And the party was pumping. On the surface it was nothing but pretty faces and booze. Cheers! and Cheers! with happy white people uniting. I didn’t see Max but I could feel him. Channeling my inner liberal-ass Jedi power like I’d sensed his presence…He was near. I truly wondered if he could he feel me back.

I grabbed a Bud Light, intent to stay sharp, and ambled through the proceedings. I talked with Oli who was glad, or so he claimed, to see me once again. As he applauded my return, I saw Margaret across the pool. She was talking to a face I recognized but had to run it through until—bam! Yellow Beamer. Penis Boy. Cigarettes in the kitchen. Nick’s alpha mates drinking rum. I wasn’t surprised to see them but wanted to steer clear knowing they would only draw attention. I needed to get into that office and get out fast. So I buried the burning desire to talk to her and instead slunk to the edge of the yard, chatting with some college students outta Chatsworth. I peppered them with questions to take the focus of myself and it worked until before long a hush fell over the crowd and the man himself, Mr. Magnet Max, emerged, welcoming folks, talking up his podcast and the night’s celebrated guest.

This was my time.

I edged out and found the stairs to the third floor.

I passed a couple girls coming out of the bathroom who looked guilty of doing blow as I walked down the hall. When I reached the office, it was locked.

I hadn’t counted on that. I considered trying to use a credit card like they always do so easily in movies, until I saw that the lock had a childproof pinhole access in the middle of the knob. I rushed down the hall and found an open empty bedroom with a desk that had some pens inside its top drawer. I grabbed one and rushed back to the office, pulling out the thin black ink cartridge tube. Then I jammed in the plastic tube to try to unlock it, just as I’d seen my buddy Roger Morfidis do in eleventh grade when Sarah Wheeler passed out after barfing and locked herself inside his mom’s bathroom. As I fished around, trying to unlock it, I wondered whatever happened to Roger.

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