Whatever it was that happened, they got pissed and I got pissed. I dumped laundry detergent in everyone’s beds, and put some in the dishwasher for good measure. With all my shit still there, I stormed out, slammed the door, got in my car and called Paul.
“Of course you can come over,” he said. “Sara’s working tonight.”
Paul had a prince albert. And a girlfriend. No matter. I drove to Paul’s place, which was his parent’s place but that he was above their garage.
“It’s not like I live with my parents’,” he’d say. “Their house is, like, over there.”
Paul had long blond hair and blue eyes that made you wet yourself. I let myself in, raging from the fight. Paul handed me a beer. Thirty minutes later I handed him a condom.
“Can’t use that with this,” and he point to his piercing. No matter. I let him in. An hour later I handed him a cigarette.
Bowls were smoked, beers were drank, and pizza was ordered. And then I called Rich.
“Everyone flipped their shit today,” I said.
“They found out you were fucking them all, didn’t they?” he asked.
“My shit’s still there,” I said.
“Go get it,” he said, and hung up.
I went to get my shit, and Jack called me a whore. I punched him in the nose, and broke it. Brian’s girlfriend said she could have her brother rape me, see how I like that. John said he’d hold me down for it. I left. I called Rich.
“They threatened to have me raped,” I said.
“Give me the address,” he said.
Thirty minutes later I heard his car coming down the road. His barely street-legal sports car with slicks and a roll-cage. He parked. Got out of the car. Opened the trunk. Reached in. Shut his trunk. And walked around his car to where I was standing by mine, directly in front of the front door of the apartment I shared with three men for three months. With a sawed-off shotgun in his right hand, and a cigarette in his left. I pointed to the door.
Rich walked up the path, flicked his cigarette in the bushes, and banged on the door with his fist. When Brian opened it, Rich put the gun in his face.
“She’s going to pack her bags and we’re going to leave and you’re going to keep your fucking mouth shut,” Rich said. I walked in behind him.
“That’s fine,” Brian said. Rich lowered the gun and he and Brian went downstairs to the party. The music stopped. I went upstairs and gathered what little I actually had there. When I was finished, I yelled down the stairs and walked outside. Rich came out seconds later.
I threw my shit in my trunk. Rich put his shotgun in his trunk. We left the apartment complex. I turned left and Rich turned right. I paid for my lunch at his restaurant the next day. As a thank you.