Lodgers

RACIST.

"Hello," he smiled. Like a bastard.

Pointing up at the ceiling where Judy was suspended in a cocoon of blood and saliva, Carmen introduced, "That's Judy Brockovich. I'm not sure if that's her real name, but that's the name on the large, human-sized parcels that periodically get sent here, so we just kind of assumed it was hers."

"Human-sized?" Hermann frowned. "What's human-sized that gets delivered in the mail system?"

"Humans," said Carmen sadly.

Noticing everyone was just standing (or suspended from a cocoon of blood and saliva) awkwardly, Carmen clapped her hands together to indicate that she was about to force an uncomfortable social interaction.

"Right!" she said breezily. "I'm making everyone coffee. Sit!" It was an unavoidable command.

Hermann and Aaliyah sat instantly. Carmen disappeared into the kitchen.

The sofa felt twice as stiff when Aaliyah was sharing it with Hermann. They sat tight for a solid minute, with Aaliyah jiggling her foot impatiently and Hermann humming. She wasn't sure what it was he was humming. She didn't like it.

She turned to him. "Don't hum in my living room," she said.

He bared his palms. "Sorry, sorry." He glanced around at the piles of tat that had formed mountains in the living room. "Where's the remote?" he asked.

Aaliyah shrugged. "Dunno. Carmen had it last. She was pretending to watch some live debate last night."

"On Channel 4? I saw that," said Hermann. "Who did you support?"

"They were both wrong," said Aaliyah, who was anti-establishment. "Especially that guy, Murray White. Obviously tampons should be free."

"No," said Hermann. "White is right. We've got to think about the economic consequences of free tampons."

"Is that something you do often?" retorted Aaliyah, before she realised her vague promise to Carmen about not arguing with her boyfriends. "Sorry. Ignore me."

Hermann glanced around for talking points. "Nice place you've got here."

That was a lie.

So he was a liar, Aaliyah noted. Interesting...

"It's actually a very organised chaos," she informed him. "Carmen insists that the mounds of books are separated alphabetically by author."

"Really?" said Hermann. "I personally separate them by genre."

"Why don't you just restrict yourself to buying the genre you like?" Aaliyah asked her stupid, imprudent guest who had no respect for personal finances.

"Oh no, no, I like all the genres I buy," he insisted hastily. "I just like to keep them separate. But equal, of course. It's best."

Aaliyah froze. "Say that bit again," she said, shuffling round on the sofa to face him.

"I said I like all the genres I buy."

"No the other bit."

"Separate but equal is best?"

Aaliyah's eyes widened and she leaned back away from Hermann.

Before she could say anything, Carmen returned with a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. Aaliyah settled for eyeing Hermann cautiously, and scrambling to her feet. She marched over to Carmen.

"Carmen," she hissed, leaning in so that Hermann couldn't hear. "Carmen, we need a quick chat."

Carmen rolled her eyes. "What did you do now?"