Tired Noir pt. 4

“Oh shit!” I am awake. The television is still flickering; it’s dark outside. I forgot my computer. It has the files on it the information I needed to complete my job and then get out of this place. A knock at my door. “Damn,” I mutter under my breath as I get up and head towards the door. I reach for my gun which is still sitting on the kitchen counter. “Who is it?”
“It’s Sarah. You left your computer back there at Jim’s bar,” she sounded harmless enough.
I knew I was probably still a little drunk. I clicked the safety on the gun and tossed it into my brimming laundry basket it passively settled. I unlocked the door and pushed it open a sliver.
“Hello Sarah. Thanks for bringing me my machine.” I did my best to seem personable and sober. “Come in please, what time is it anyway?”
“It’s three. . . .Jeremy why did you do that?”
“What?” If I played it cool maybe she would just drop it.
“You just left like that all flustered.”
“I . . . well I didn’t think that . . .”
“You know that Derek and I aren’t together anymore? We haven’t been for months.”
“Eh sure, yeah I know that . . . it’s just . . . did you look through my computer?” I’d put a different question to her and probably just insult her enough to make her leave.
“Yeah, I did.”
She was angry, that backfired.
“You’ve got lots of porn.”
“Um sorry,” I was embarrassed, she could tell I was drunk. But had she seen the files?
“Why do you have so much information on Derek anyway?”
Shit. Wait my cover eh what was it? It was so good that I had forgotten.
“You writing something about him or what?”
Sarah you just saved me . . . or no I guess you saved yourself. Being curious can be dangerous. “Yeah . . . well no . . . just character study for a novel.” That’s right I was a struggling post-modern beat writer or something.
“Looks quite thorough. No wonder none of us have managed to read anything you’ve written.” Is she being flirtatious?
The alcohol made me want her even more. I was weary, my mind was cloudy but I knew that if I had one objective it was to get her out of here as satisfied with herself as possible. “I’ll let you be the first one to read my stuff once I have something worth showing.” Now leave dear.
“You are very strange Jeremy. I think that’s what I like about you.”
“It’s cliche all of us writer-types are notorious for being social morons.”
“It makes you cute.”
Damn is she drunk too?
“Jeremy . . . why did you leave me tonight?”
“When I get myself focused and start to study the characters in an area I try to maintain a reasonably objective point of view.”
“Why not just write about yourself? You live here too.”
“Yeah, for now. I move all over the world it’s how I approach my work. I travel to places that strike my interest and get some kind of humble meager job to pay the rent and I watch the people and I start to develop characters.”
“Huh only with us you have interacted more socially and I don’t think I know what meager job you have.”
“Sarah we’ve only briefly spoken. I think tonight there was something funny going on . . . like a full moon.”
“No it’s a new moon no moonlight at all tonight.”
“That’s funny.”
“Okay Jeremy. I’ll be leaving now since clearly you don’t want me here.”
Yeah that’s right I don’t, but I don’t want a damn guilt trip about it, I still need to be respectable for a little while longer. “Hey don’t be like that. I’ve just had a long day and I wasn’t feeling so well. I was so out of it I left my computer at the bar. How did Derek’s band do?”
“Fine. There was only a few people but they seemed to love it.” She started to move toward the door. I could catch only a bit of indignance in her voice but it was enough.
“Why don’t we meet for a late lunch tomorrow? I figure if you’re still up then you’ll probably be sleeping through most of Saturday?” This way I could temporarily appease her.
“That would be nice. Why don’t we meet at the coffee shop around two or so?”
“Sounds great. See you later today then.”
“Get some sleep,” She walked out and closed the door behind her.
I didn’t bother to lock it.