Lonely and Tired

Hair of the Dog

I took a sip of coffee and covertly observed Brian out the corner of my eye. He was insanely hot in the kind of way Eli would sneer at and Ashlee would run screaming from. Kelly, my best friend from high school and now resident in London would have wholeheartedly approved of him.

I'd read and re-read his message the night before for about ten minutes before Cathy started to call up the stairs that she was going to dump me in the shower fully clothed if didn't hurry up. I'd dropped the phone and jumped in the shower without responding. A message like that needed a well thought out and considered response.

Unknown number – Hi. I hope this Stephanie. Brian here. I thought we should get together tomorrow and discuss insurance details after our accident today. What do you think?

Clearly the Rosetta Stone was required to translate that.

It wasn't until much later that night and one to many glasses of Zinfandel that I'd responded.

Me – Who dis?

Oh how I laughed.

Brian – Brian. Sorry I thought that this was Stephanie's number. It's not?

Clearly alcohol had given me an inflated impression of my own comedic prowess.

Me – Sorry Brian. Yes this is Stephanie. Where did you want to meet?

Brian – Not sure I trust you behind the wheel Ace. I'll pick you up.

Me – Over fifty countries Brian!!!!!!

Brian – But are they even countries that have traffic laws?

Who thought they were funny now?

Me – Very funny. How do I know you're not a serial killer? You really do look very familiar. How do I know that I haven't seen your picture on a wanted poster somewhere?

Brian – Because we met in a cemetery? Classic horror movie lore would have us believe that if I was going to off you I would have done it there where I could have easily disposed of your body.

Me – I'll dispose of your body

Brian – Stephanie if I promise not to cut you up in to little pieces will you let me pick you up for a cup of coffee so we can get the damage to our cars sorted out? I'll even let you pick the place.

Me – Ok. But if you do kill me my angry soul will come back from beyond the grave to get you.

Brian – Are you sure you don't know where you recognise me from?

Me – No but if I do will it help the police find my killer?

Brian – Comedian

Me – What time tomorrow Brian?

So here I was sitting on Cathy's back patio with Brian drinking coffee.

He'd arrived in a different car to the one I'd crunched. The plan had been to go out for coffee but my lurking hangover made me reluctant to go too far from the house. Even though he swore he wasn't a serial killer – which I believed – I wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't a massive dickhead. Alcohol and jetlag had impaired my judgment and I had a history of assuming that good looks were an indication of a good guy. So until I'd ascertained otherwise I wasn't going to get in a car with him. Hell, my body didn't have to be in a garbage bag for him to leave me by the side of the road. He could just get pissed off and tell me to get out of the car.