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Ziggy455

I fell in love with an adult film star

Recommended Posts

Ziggy455

 

 

 

 Chapter 1

An unexpected interruption

 

 

He was sat in the dark, drinking his fourth double whiskey and staring out towards the gas station at the other end of Perch Street down the way. The light of it seeped through as if it was a UFO, ready to rise through the fir-trees and ascend to the heavens. It could do that, for all he cared. He didn’t want to be anywhere else but in this house drinking to his hearts content.

 

It was a Monday night. A faint rain had begun to shower over Bright Hope and from where he sat he could see most of the bay down the hill. It was quiet, he thought. There was no noise except for the sound of the melting ice clinking together in his glass, and the repetition of his breathing as he sunk lower into the armchair that faced the large, wall-size window of his home. He could sit here all night, like he planned, alone with his thoughts. That was until he heard a knock at the door. Huh?

 

There was another knock, and another. Cops? He looked up with a sudden rush of sobriety and saw no red and blue lights blaring. Phil Willard, the police chief, would usually come up if there were any problems but those visits were few and far between. There  was a sudden rush of knocking. He let out a sigh and slammed his glass tumbler down on the wooden desk next to his chair.

 

“I’m comin’,” he said, annoyed. “Jeez, calm down.”

 

When he got to the door, the black shape outside didn’t look familiar. The porchlight gave way to a dark, blurry body that raised its arm again to bang the door even louder than before. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled it fast, putting him face-to-face with the mystery interruption which was much less a shadow now and a normal girl, well normal enough, he thought as he looked her over.

 

She was short. The dark image wasn’t so much ghostly now. A pair of light green eyes looked back to him and he felt his forming words disappear. She sported long braided hair that went down to her lower back which suited her caramel skin. He’d never seen her face before; a look of frustration on it. He assumed she wasn’t knocking to borrow some sugar when he spied the white and crumpled paper clenched tightly in her hand.

 

“Yeah?” he said with a croak.

 

“Read this,” she ordered as she thrust the paper towards him. He leaned backwards a bit.

 

What was this about? It was late in the night and some random girl was asking him to read a piece of paper, who did that? The sudden rush of demand had knocked him off guard. He took the paper from her and straightened out some of the creases. She crossed her arms as he examined the sheet. The writing was rushed and whoever penned it wasn’t going to be the next Shakespeare.

 

“Out loud?” he asked.

 

She immediately interrupted. “Yeah, out loud.”

 

With a clear of his throat he began.

 

Lina Lindsell,

 

It’s not wize some body lyke you show up to wurk tomorrow we don’t need peeple like you in this town cuz we don’t want ur filth here don’t go bak to wurk—I don’t need my coffee served by you.

 

sinsurly

go f*ck yourself cuz that might make a change.

 

Probably wasn’t wise to read it aloud, but he did as he was told. The girl remained rooted to the spot; her tongue in her cheek as he mentioned each dagger-sharp line. Her eyes wandered as if she was stewing something venomous to screech back at him, but when he finished the last line she just snatched the paper away, said “thanks”, and walked off his steps. He watched her go to the house next-door; Mrs Abernathy’s place, the old widow who was almost as old as Bright Hope itself. Her braids swung as she turned to go up the porch. The final thing he heard was the door slam with such a force it almost made him jump.

 

He lingered in the doorway, looked around, wondering what had just happened, and why some gorgeous girl was living in Mrs Abernathy’s house. He wasn’t one for a social life, not anymore, and maybe he’d missed the part where his neighbour moved away. God, he really did have no life now. When he was back inside his house he could still smell the perfume the angry girl was wearing, and for a moment he savoured it before shaking his head, and returning back to his armchair, and back to the screaming.

 

As he sat back in silence he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with the new girl on the block. He remembered her raspy voice that sounded like it had a hint of a Brooklyn accent or somewhere inner city. She also had this cute button nose wait—what was he thinking? He hadn’t had sex for a long time but that didn’t excuse his sudden physical attraction. What would his wife think? He pushed all the thoughts from his head and refilled his drink with ice. Even with more alcohol and welcome isolation, he felt the small niggling thoughts of her green eyes trying to seep back in.

 

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