Just a Little Junk

by Stylo Fantome

  10:15 a.m.

  Day One

  “Please be here, please be here, please be here.”

  Jo shifted her weight from foot to foot, almost like she was doing a potty dance.

  Probably because I’m about to piss myself.

  “Archer! Please be here!” she shouted, banging on his door for the millionth time.

  “Be quiet down there, you’re scaring my cats!”

  Jo turned to see that two doors down, an old woman was sticking her head out into the hall. Mrs. Copernicus – building tattletale and general bitch. She had a thick wooden cane and wasn’t afraid to crack it across shins. Jo glared.

  “Oh, just go back inside!” she snarled, not in any kind of mood to deal with bitchy neighbors.

  “Screw you!” the old woman snapped right back. Jo’s jaw dropped.

  “You know what? Today is not the day, Satan! So just turn the fuck around, or I’ll come down there and make you eat your stupid little hat!” she yelled.

  “Just try it, ya floozy, and I’ll ram this walking stick up your ass!” Mrs. Copernicus warned her, brandishing her cane.

  “Just try it, old lady!”

  “Slut!”

  “Bitch!”

  “Hussy!”

  “Goblin!”

  “I’m gonna call the police!” the other woman finally threatened. Jo put her hands on her hips.

  “Do it! And be sure to tell them some old woman is about to get her ass beat!” she shouted.

  “I’ll have you evicted so fast, you won’t even -”

  Suddenly, the door Jo was standing in front of was ripped open.

  “Shut the fuck up, both of you!” Archer shouted, stomping into the hall, forcing Jo to back out of the way.

  “She started it! She said she was gonna -” Mrs. Copernicus began yelling.

  “Me? You old fucking bat, you’re the one who -” Jo jumped right in.

  “Enough!” Archer roared. “I have a fucking headache the size of the San Andreas fault! Mrs. Copernicus, you’re not gonna beat anyone with your cane, and you’re not gonna call the cops because then they’ll find out you have fifty billion cats. Just go back inside, I’ll shut Jo up.”

  There was some grumbling and definitely some more name calling, but Mrs. Copernicus finally crawled back into her hole.

  “Archer,” Jo breathed his name. “You have to come outside, I -”

  “What the fuck? Jesus, Jojo, I’m hungover as fuck, and you’re out here banging on my door and screaming at neighbors!” he groaned as he turned away from her. She snorted as he started walking back into his apartment.

  “She’s not a neighbor, she’s a troll that got evicted from its bridge. Please, Archer, this is important, I need you to -” she tried again as she trailed after him, but he held up a hand.

  “Coffee. Not another word until coffee, or I swear to christ, I will let Mrs. Copernicus beat you to death.”

  Normally, that would’ve been like a challenge to her, but the tone in his voice made her keep her mouth shut. Luckily, he had a full pot of coffee already made. She watched as he dumped some into a mug, then threw the cup into the microwave.

  While the contraption dinged through the seconds, Archer yawned and raked his fingers through his hair, and for the first time since he’d opened the door, Jo realized she’d woken him up. He was wearing a pair of pants – Carharts, if she wasn’t mistaken. His work clothes. Probably the first thing he’d stumbled across, they weren’t even zipped or buttoned up. No shirt, clearly unshaven, and his hair looked insane. Under normal circumstances, all that usually equaled a package so sexy she’d have trouble concentrating on anything else. However, her little trunk situation had her kind of distracted.

  “Okay,” she began the moment his lips touched the cup. “Please, I know you’re hungover and tired and cranky, but please, please come outside with me and look at something.”

  “I don’t want to go outside. Let’s have breakfast first,” he suggested after a long pause, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

  “No breakfast. I need your help.”

  “I’ll change your tire later.”

  “It’s not a flat tire. Come outside.”

  “I really don’t want to -”

  “Just come outside.”

  “Jo, if it’s another dead raccoon, I will make you wear it as a hat.”

  “JUST FUCKING COME OUTSIDE!”

  His headache was bad enough that he didn’t want to endure another shriek from her, so after he’d pulled on a t-shirt and some shoes, Archer allowed her to yank him out the door. He cringed when they stepped into the bright sunlight – it was right around ten and the crisp morning air made everything clear and shiny. As they walked across the lot, his glare stayed in place, and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

  “You wanted to show me your car?” he asked. “C’mon, Jo, I have to go to work, I don’t have time for this. Go inside and get some sleep and I’ll -”

  “We’ve been friends a long time, yeah?” she started, interrupting him.

  “I guess so.”

  “You guess so!?”

  “Well, I was friends with Andy in school – do I count that for us?” he asked, referring to her older brother. She rolled her eyes.

  “Jesus christ, Archer. Look, we’re friends. I consider you a good friend. My best friend. So I’m trusting you not to judge me, okay?”

  “Awww, best friends, Jojo? I’m touched!”

  “I swear to all that is holy, I will cut off your nuts and turn them into key chains.”

  “Okay, okay, Bestie, chill out. Your seriously need to calm down. Maybe a little hair of the dog? Wanna go back inside and have a beer?”

  She ignored him and nervously started playing with her hair, dragging the long brunette locks up into a ponytail.

  “So I went out last night, with some friends from work. Just to like blow off some steam. But I kinda drank a lot, and I don’t really -” she began babbling when he interrupted her by laughing.

  “Kinda? Jo, you were so fucked up, I was surprised you were able to stand.”

  “You were there!?” she exclaimed.

  “I was,” Archer shook his head and chuckled. “You don’t remember?”

  “Clearly I don’t!” she was almost shouting. She didn’t remember him being there at all. She barely remembered the club, and had no idea how she’d gotten home.

  “We had a full blown conversation. You had this guy you were working over on the dance floor, then you and I had some drinks. Then Creeper dancing dude showed back up and you got all weird and you walked off while sucking on his neck. Was super gross,” he explained to her.

  “I … he … you …”

  Jo felt all the air rush out of her body and she fell back against her trunk. It was a gorgeous, bright day already, but she didn’t take any notice of it. A busy road was nearby, but she couldn’t hear it. All she could hear was her own heart beat.

  “C’mon, Jojo, it’s not the worst thing ever. At least you didn’t go home with him,” Archer pointed out. That statement surprised her.

  “How do you know?” she asked, glancing at him. He was silent for a second, glancing between her and the car.

  “Because we came home together. How do you think your car got here? I drove us,” he told her.

  “You drove?”

  “Yeah. Bad idea, I was a little drunk. In fact, I might still be a little drunk. Can we please go back to bed? We can discuss your car tomorrow,” he offered.

  “But if I came home with you … the guy you saw me dancing with, did you see him later? Before we left?” she asked.

  “No, I lost track of you for a while. I found you after closing, sitting on the ground outside the club, snoring,” Archer explained. She dropped her face into her hands.

  “Oh god! Oh god oh god oh god,” she moaned.

  “Seriously, Jojo. It’s just a one-night stand. We’ve all done it,” he assured her. She snorted and rolled her eyes.

 
“No, I didn’t. Or at least I don’t think I did. Fuck, I don’t know what I did. What am I going to do?” she shouted, standing up and pacing in front of the trunk.

  “Shit, calm down. I’ll take you to the free clinic, we can get you tested, I’m sure it’s fine!” he kept going. She stopped moving and glared at him.

  “Oh yeah? Does this look fine to you!?” she snapped, and with that, she popped open her trunk.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. Maybe for him to jump back, or yell, or start accusing her of murder. She’d certainly do one of those things, or all of them, if someone showed her a dead body. Archer, though, he stood completely still and stared wide eyed into her trunk. But when she looked closer, she saw that his tan was fading away and he was going pale right in front of her.

  “Oh god,” he breathed, staring down.

  “Yeah,” Jo sighed, rubbing her hand across her forehead. “Think the free clinic will take care of this?”

  “What the …” Archer gasped as he leaned into the trunk. “Is that … holy shit, Jo. What is he doing in your trunk?”

  “Taking a nap. I was hoping you could kiss him awake.”

  “Why is he sleeping in your -”

  “THERE’S A GODDAMN DEAD BODY IN MY TRUNK!” she screamed, slapping him in the chest. “WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO!?”

  “Okay. Okay, calm down. First thing is definitely calming down,” he insisted, and he rested a heavy hand on her shoulder.

  “How did this happen? Did I kill him?” she asked.

  “Are you sure he’s dead?” Archer checked. She glared at him.

  “Not positive, but the massive pool of congealed blood underneath him makes me think he has to be,” she replied.

  “Okay. Okay, okay, okay.”

  “Stop saying okay.”

  “Okay.”

  She hit him in the chest again.

  “Archer, I’m serious,” she groaned. “I know I should call the police, but … did I do this?”

  She was horrified as she felt her lips start to quiver. Her eyes start to water. She almost never cried, and she certainly didn’t want to cry in front of Archer. But it couldn’t be helped. Besides, if a person couldn’t cry over a random dead body in their trunk, that they may or may not have killed, then what could a person cry over?

  “Oh, hey, Jojo. C’mon, you didn’t do this,” he assured her.

  “How do you know that?” she cried, wiping at tears. “I mean, I was with him. It’s my car. God, I did this, didn’t I?”

  “No, no, no,” he moaned, and then he was pulling her into him. They’d known each other for over ten years, and for the last five they had been extremely close, but they didn’t touch a whole lot. She was his friend’s little sister – off limits. He was her brother’s sexy out-of-her-league friend – untouchable. But none of that mattered in that moment, and she fell into his chest. Cried into his shirt as she wrapped her arms around his middle.

  “I don’t want to go to prison,” she sniffled.

  “I know you, Jo. Better than anyone else, and you could never do something like this,” he whispered, his arms going around her shoulders. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone stuff a dead body in your trunk.”

  “Then how did he get in there? It had to have happened before you took me home, and you said I was alone outside,” she pointed out.

  “Doesn’t matter. You didn’t do this, I know it. And we’ll figure this out. But first,” he sighed and rubbed his hands up and down her back. “Let’s go inside, drink a shit ton of coffee, eat some greasy food, and then tackle this.”

  “But shouldn’t we call the cops?” Jo asked, pulling away enough to look up at him. She was a little startled to find him already staring down at her.

  “Yeah, we should …” he let his voice trail off, and he glanced back at her car.

  “But we’re not?”

  “No. Not a good idea. Let’s just go inside,” he urged, then he reached out with one arm and closed the trunk.

  Jo moved to step away from him, but he kept an arm around her shoulders, anchoring her to his side. It was nice, being so close to him. She sniffled and leaned into him, letting him help her into the building and up the stairs.

  They went back to his place instead of hers. They lived in a shitty building, in a shitty part of town – neither of them were exactly rolling in the dough. But he made more money than her, so he had the bigger apartment, and usually more food in his fridge.

  “So why aren’t we calling the police?” Jo asked about five minutes later. She was sitting at the island in his kitchen, and she cupped a warm mug in her hands – it was full of coffee and a healthy amount of brandy. Both had done wonders to steady her nerves and cure her hangover.

  “Well, a couple reasons,” Archer spoke slowly, leaning his elbows against the island across from her. “First being – it does look pretty bad. You were the last one to be with him when he was alive, and now he’s dead in your trunk. Maybe we should see what we can remember and piece together before we involve the law.”

  “Okay, with you so far,” Jo nodded her head while he spoke.

  “Second of all – is your car even registered? Insured? Emissions tested? Smog certified?” he checked. She coughed and shook her head.

  “No.”

  “Which one?”

  “Most of them.”

  “How many times have I bugged you about that shit?”

  “Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

  They stared at each other for a second, then Archer just shook his head and they both sipped at their drinks.

  “And third of all – remember that party the other week?” he asked. She nodded.

  “Yeah, you passed out in my kitchen,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah. I also may or may not have hidden an ounce of coke in your bathroom,” he said in a quick voice.

  “Are you shitting me?” Jo gasped, sitting upright. He winced and rubbed at the back of his neck.

  “Sorry. I was a little drunk, a little stoned. I … some guy talked me into buying, and then I just … I panicked. Paranoid, thought someone would find out or whatever. So I was like ‘hey, no one would ever suspect cute little Jodi of having hard drugs, I’ll hide it here’ – but then I sort of … forgot,” he explained.

  Normally, Archer calling her cute would’ve sent her over the moon. That day, however, she wasn’t exactly in the mood.

  “You bought and hid drugs in my apartment,” she groaned. “I can’t believe you! I don’t even do coke!”

  “Hey, neither do I. It was just … a really good deal.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad, Archer. So frickin’ happy.”

  “We’re getting off track here,” he sighed. “So we can’t call the cops because you look kind of guilty, and you would become someone’s bitch so fast in prison.”

  “I would not …” she started to argue, but then she thought about it. “Yeah. Yeah, it wouldn’t be pretty. And even if I didn’t look guilty, we can’t have officers wandering around here till we get rid of your little drug habit.”

  “Hardly a habit, Jojo. It was a … drunken impulse purchase.”

  “Impulse purchase, jesus. This is my life,” she dropped her forehead to the counter top.

  “Why don’t we just dump the car?” he suggested. She lifted her head and sighed.

  “Awesome idea, Archer. Dump the car and just hang out for a couple days, waiting for the police to find it. I love the suspense of it all, not knowing exactly when I’ll go to jail.”

  “C’mon, Jo. I doubt you even registered the car, did you? And even if you did, you probably did it wrong. They won’t be able to trace the car back to you!”

  She frowned. Buying drugs and hiding them in her apartment was bad enough, but hearing him talk so comfortably about dumping her car somewhere, knowing there was some random stranger dead in the back of it … it all made Jo feel uncomfortable. A feeling she’d never experienced before with Archer.

 
“Yes, but even then, what? The cops show up at the original owner’s house? We just let them take the fall? Or wait for them to point the police in my direction, anyway? And what about the poor guy in my trunk? I mean, I don’t want him in there, but don’t you … I’m sorry, Archer. I just can’t. He’s got to have a family or something somewhere. Could you really just … leave him in the middle of nowhere? No. However he got there, whatever happened, it’s at least partially my fault. It’s my car. Either we do this ourselves, or we call the cops.”

  There was a long pause, and for a second, Jo was worried he would argue with her. She wasn’t sure how well she would handle it. But then he took a deep breath and stood upright.

  “Okay!” he yelled, clapping his hands together so loud it startled her. “We’re going to figure this out. We can do this.”

  “You really think so?” Jo asked, resting her head in her hands and watching as he walked around the island and came to a stop next to her.

  “Yeah. We’ll come up with a plan. We’ll retrace your steps last night, ask around, figure some stuff out.”

  “What about your job?”

  “A dead body is a little more important than work, Jo. I’m gonna take a shower and then we can dedicate the whole day to this. It’ll be okay,” he assured her, reaching out and rubbing her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” she said, looking up at him. “You don’t have to do anything, you know. I know missing work is hard.”

  He was a stringer on a construction team – not really an employee, but a friend of a friend who worked for the company. He got paid under the table, worked at random locations, usually pretty far away, and regularly put in ten hours or more a day. It worked for him, he seemed to like the come-and-go nature of his job, but she worried that if he didn’t show up, he might lose his spot on the crew.

  “Hey, if you can’t share a dead body with your friend, who can you?” he asked, and she actually laughed.

  Her life was mostly likely over as she knew it, and she was probably going to end up in jail before the weekend was over, but she had to laugh when he laughed. It was just the way it had always been between them. Her basking in his overwhelming presence.

  “But hey,” he said as he moved towards his bathroom. “What were you doing in your trunk at ten in the morning, anyway?”