Tuesday (Part 3)

Pulled back into the parking lot near the Mexican restaraunt and killed the car and the broken roar of whatever CD had been playing. Got out.

"Willowbees then?" William asked.

"Might as well."

"Allright."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I drank the last of the wine from my pouch and threw it through the open window of the car and checked my phone. A message from Taylor. I couldn't make out the letters until I stood still and stared at it.

"Lock your doors," it said.

Another came. "Now."

"What?" I said.

"What?" William said.

"What?" I typed. "Why?" Noticed my phone was dying.

A minute or so went by and she didn't reply.

We went into Willowbees. "Do you have an Android charger?" I asked the bartender.

"I do!"

She dug around behind the bar and pulled out a charger. I found an outlet on a wall and a table next to it and William and I sat at the table while my phone charged. I sent another message to Taylor.

"UHHHH WHY?"

Immediate response; "There he thisncjwss n P"

Another; "More"

I assumed booze was involved.

Another; "I'm just saying that the crazies that know you Exist MIGHT follow you to our house..."

Read it all back a few times. "That's fuckin' weird," I said and put my phone down and let it charge. We ordered rum.

"You want food?" I asked.

"Like what man. Look at me. Goddamn," William said. "Fat."

"Fuck off dude. Me too. Do you want to get goddamned food?"

"I want Bombers," he said.

"You want to go all the way to fucking Albany. To get Bombers?"

"Yeah."

I thought it over. I had gas. I had a twenty in my pocket. I never could turn down a good pulled-pork sandwich. "Okay."

"We should call Frances," he said.

"Okay."

"I don't have a phone."

"Use mine."

I handed it to him and he thumbed it around. "I don't know how to use this fucking thing," he said and laughed.

I unlocked it and brought up the dialer and gave it back to him. He dialed and called.

"No answer," he said.

"Keep calling."

"I will. It's your number pissing her off."

"Great."

"I'm going to leave her a voicemail."

"Okay."

"As if I'm you though."

"What?"

"Yeah, my impression of you."

"Oh fucking good. I can't wait."

He waited a moment and William's James began.

"Heyyyy Frances. This is Jaaaaames, you knooow? You're in my band now and I really think you are just the best person and I love you soooo much you know? Wow. Just soo much." It went on for another minute or so and then he hung up.

"Goddamn it," I said.

He laughed.

Another round of rum so my phone could charge longer.

"So... Bombers or no?" I asked.

"Eh. No. Frances will be pissed if she doesn't get to come too."

"As if she isn't well and pissed from all the calls from my number."

He laughed. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

"To where?"

"The shittiest bar we can find open on a Tuesday."

"Perfect."

Back to the car. Drove from spot to spot but all of the bars were closed, until we reached what we both assumed was the last chance. It was open. Pete's Pub. A disease hole, famous for it's karaoke nights, class-act patrons, and the chance that you'd get syphilis if you breathed inside too long. In we went.

Two stools at the end of the bar. Ours. Two pitchers of the cheapest beer. Ordered.

"Jukebox," he said. "What do you want to hear?"

"Misfits. 'Where Eagles Dare.'"

"Got it. I'm going to play you some things too, if they have it."

"Okay."

We burned through the pitchers and William made me take notes on bands he was playing through the jukebox but really I only wanted to hear Misfits.

Louder. Blinder.

I had dropped William off. In the car. Driving home.

The passing thought. I called Marie.

It rang and rang and rang and then she answered.

"Uh... hello?" she asked.

"Hey. I know it's late, but, do you want to hang out?"

"No."

"Okay. That's fucking fine then."

I couldn't figure out how to end the call. Threw my phone in the back seat of the car.

Woke up at five. Bedroom lamp on. Clothes on. Turned it off. Took them off. Wondered where my goddamned phone went.