"Kelly? It's Ryan."
This always wakes me up. It happens like twice a week.
"Yeah, I heard a noise. No, not the same noise, like, like a bump. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen."
I roll over. No luck.
"Yeah, I love you too, but would you listen? I think there's someone in the apartment. No -- look, now is not the time to talk about whether our kids would go to public or private scho--no, they're not going to Hindu school!"
Pillow over my head.
"Look, just, what should I do? What if there's a psycho killer in the apartment? Yeah, I still have the bat under the bed."
He does this a lot. Has since college. But it's gotten worse since he started dating Kelly.
"He's not going to steal the TiVo, Kelly, for God's sake -- the only thing on there is your episodes of Tyra and Top Model, anyway. ... Wait, what if he DOES steal the TiVo?!"
I can hear him get up, wander into the living room to check, and head back to his room.
"I don't want to talk about whether or not we'll have an alarm system on our home in the Hamptons or not. I sure as hell don't have one right now."
I turn over, squeeze the pillow harder around my ears. It's times like this that I wish I didn't know that their couple mash-up name is Kyan, except I always wish I didn't know that.
"No, Kelly, that's nice of you to say, but I don't think I can actually break a guy's neck with my bare hands. I think that's just a movie star or CIA operative sort of thing."
I know what's coming next.
"Yes, you totally look like a movie star too. Yes, you look just like Beyonce. Yes, from the front AND the back."
"I think Jay-Z keeps thugs on retainer and doesn't have to worry about this sort of thing." Pause. "Yes, I do think Beyonce should be in a movie where she fights crime. ...Yeah, actually, she would look really hot."
I reach for the iPod, kept on the nightstand for just this occasion.
"Of course Jay-Z would be in it too. Yeah, OK. Yessir I'm cut from a different cloth/My texture is the best fur, I'm chinchilla."
I groan. I hate it when Ryan raps.
"No, you don't need to come over here. Just...talk to me." Ryan's voice has dropped an octave.
The music is never loud enough to drown him out. Goddamn this shitty cheap apartment and its paper-thin walls.
"Yeah, you would look pretty good wearing that outfit. Yes, even better than Beyonce. Of course I would save you."
It's not enough that she's over here eating our cookies and clogging up our TiVo and leaving tampons in our bathroom. Now she has to ruin my sleep.
"What am I wearing? A suit. A really nice suit. Armani.
"No, I left it in my other pimp cup."
GOD I hate this.
"Well, I think at some point... yes, you can have too much bling. Just diamonds? ...No, I can picture that."
I'll bet he can.
"So, we're fighting crime, and I'm in my suit, and you're undercover as an exotic dancer... yeah, totally, I have a HUGE gun.
"Excuse me, miss. I'm going to have to ask you a few questions. Downtown."
I can't help but wonder what I did to deserve this.
"Well, if he's going to make you do your routine I don't think I should stop you. Wouldn't want to... blow your cover.
"Yeah, they have to have one of those giant champagne glass things. Why wouldn't they?"
You know, he's normal enough most of the time but this Kelly girl, I can't figure them out at all. Kelly's mother has already suggested that her next oldest sister will be of age in three years and I wonder if that means we'll have a double wedding someday in hell. The bridesmaids will wear red to match the burning, burning fire.
"And he's looking at you and wants you to dance for him, but you're looking at me the whole time.
"Well, I didn't see that episode of Smallville, but of course you'd be better than Lois Lane. Obviously.
"Yeah, I'd stop him before he could actually get to you. Yes, it would be like The Bodyguard. And I'd carry you off to the dressing room. Yeah, yeah.
"Well, yeah, but it's a nice suit." Pause. Pauses are worse than them talking. "No, I don't care. Rip it off!
"Yeah, yeah, they can't find us here." There's a horrifyingly long pause, the longest yet, and I wouldn't be able to hear him if I didn't know what was coming. Of course. His voice is hushed and low and I can just barely hear the inevitable.
"Yeah, the beating of our hearts is the only sound."
That's it. I'm jumping out the fucking window.
Story Notes:
Cowritten with Kate.
Also, a disclaimer: Not mine.
sundancekid is the author of 12 other stories.
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