Julian

II. February, Ch. 18

     The sound of a ringing phone echoed in the kitchen and traveled across the pitch dark apartment.

     Calvin pulled his pillow over his head and groaned.

     After spending the evening butchering his baby for "lewd material", sleep was his only consolation.

     He got out of bed and marched to the kitchen to pick up the phone in the dark. "Hello?"

     "Tang?"

     He flicked the kitchen light switch on, filling the room with cheap fluorescent light.

     His large pupils shrunk with such a speed, he got a headache. After a second, he remembered that there was someone on the other end of the phone, someone who just called him Tang. "Genevieve?"

     "Were you asleep this early on a Saturday night?"

     Calvin rubbed the pain away from his eyes. "Early? It's almost midnight."

     She laughed. "Listen, I need a favor."

     Judging by the tone of her voice, Calvin was sure this wasn't an emergency. "What's going on?"

     "I have this engagement to attend, but my flaky friends are going to be a no show. Can you come with me?"

     That's what you woke me up for? "Sure. When?"

     She fumbled on the other end. "In forty-five minutes."

     His eyes went big. "Tonight?"

     "Of course. Can you pick me up?"

     "Actually, Roger and Cookie took the Mustang and they're not back yet."

     "Just take a cab. You still have my address, right?"

     Calvin's mind struggled to construct an excuse. "Well, I'm pretty tired. I had to stay up all night editing the play—"

     "Please. It would help me forget all those horrible things you said to me that one day."

     Ugh, no. Not guilt. "Okay, okay. But this will officially make us even."

     "Great. Wear something casual. I'll see you soon."

     With his last ounce of nocturnal energy, he slid into a pair of clean slacks, a polo shirt, and his warmest jacket, the closest thing to casual he could put together.

     He was falling asleep in the back of the cab. You're such a pushover.

     At a quarter to midnight, the cab stopped in front of Genevieve's front door.

     As if on cue, she stepped out of the house without him having to get out of the car and ring her doorbell.

     Calvin pressed his forehead against the cold backseat window. As soon as he saw her, he sat up straight.

     Genevieve wore a dress that Calvin could only describe as unholy. The hem was a good five inches above her knees, the straps hung low on her shoulders, and her breasts nearly poured out of her neckline.

     The dress was the same jet black color of her hair, and contrasted perfectly against her milky skin. The ruby red of her lips and smoky shadow in her eyes made her serious face appear more villainous than usual.

     What kind of engagement is this?

     The cab driver nearly stumbled on himself to open the door for her. She thanked him and slid next to Calvin in the backseat, where she wrapped a friendly arm around his neck. "Hi, stranger."