From Top, To Bottom (manxman)

Chapter Nine

Short A/N

Before you read, keep in mind that everything happens for a reason. There is a method to my madness. Okay. Enjoy.
Pic: Devlin Maloney

Chapter Nine

"Uhnnn," I groaned, reaching out of my blanket to smack my hand around my nightstand in search of my phone. It had been ringing for two minutes straight. Suddenly, the ringing stopped. I sighed and retracted my arm back under the blanket. The ringing started again.

I threw my comforter off and sat up in bed. Snatching my phone off the nightstand, I let out another groan. Did I really have to put up with this this morning? I pressed the green phone icon.

"Hello?" I mumbled. For a minute it was silent. "Dad? I know it's you. I have caller id."

"Oh, yeah," he muttered to himself. I rolled my eyes. "I just. Well, I wanted to talk to you. Face-to-face. I have some apologizing to do and over the phone seems pretty crappy to me."

I rolled my eyes again and looked at my clock. It was only 10:08 and I was nursing a pretty low-pain headache. I think I could deal with a one-on-one with my dad as long as She-Devil wasn't around. I got out of bed, stretching my tired limbs and sighing heavily.

"Alright, dad. Would you like to come over at twelve for lunch?" I asked. I'd have to go and buy something to cook though. I've been living on take out recently what with the overtime I had been putting in at work.

"Yes. That sounds good. It'll just be me of course," he replied. Of course it would just be him. Sheila was never able to get my dad to go to church. He didn't have a problem with organized religions or anything and he viewed himself as a Christian, but my dad never saw the point in going to church. I don't know why though. My parents were pretty accepting with just about any and everything. You don't want to go to church? Fine, don't go to church. You are gay? Fine, you're gay. You want to impregnate the same woman three times but you still think she's a bitch? Fine, do that. That last one was for Matt. Mom actually put up a lot of protest to that but after a few lines of profanity (in Italian, of course) she was okay.

"Alright then. I'll see you at twelve," I said, staring at my disheveled appearance in the mirror. I had stumbled my way into the bathroom as we were talking. I looked an absolute mess. Never will I hit the booze so hard ever again. I shook my head gaining a small throb. At least I could put up with that.

"Alright, kiddo. Love you," he replied before hanging up. I placed my phone on the counter so I could brush my teeth. I couldn't find my toothbrush anywhere so I went to grab one from under the sink. Standing back up, I hit my head and winced in pain.

"Fuck," I grumbled rubbing the spot I bumped my head. There was a slight rise there but nothing too worrisome. I sighed and ran my toothbrush under the water before commencing to brush my pearly whites.

Once I felt satisfied with the amount of minty freshness my mouth was experiencing, I proceed to wash my face. I don't want to sound overly flamboyant, though I have no problem with flamboyant men, but my face was like my precious cargo. I used special facial products just to keep my skin flawless and I have no shame in that. I was running my hand over the counter, searching for a towel when I felt my hand swoop my phone in to the sink. The sink of running water.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" I exclaimed. I dismissed searching for a towel and hurriedly grabbed my phone to find some rice to put it in. Luckily, I had rice. Today was looking to be a horrible day for me.

Everything after that seemed just as normal as usual. When I was done getting ready, it was already 11:14 and I still needed to get pick up some food for lunch. My phone was still not working, a bad sign for me in case of some emergency. I sighed and left the house, droopy stance and all.