His Favorite Girl

by Steph Sweeney

  Or was it?

  Maybe Brian’s plan would go down at this pizzeria. We’d joked about plotting Mr. Harding’s assassination, but what if he was the assassin? What if Patton and I bit down on a slice of fancy wood-cooked thin-crust pizza and then fell to the floor foaming at the mouth, poisoned with some untraceable concoction of Brian’s design?

  Then again, if Brian’s master plan was to kill us, why did we have to drive all the way to Berkeley, California to die? What was wrong with the cafeteria?

  The morning passed slowly. My anxiety mounted with each passing minute. I tried watching TV to pass the time, but that didn’t work. I made the bed and cleaned up the room while Patton showered. Then I jumped in after him, earning myself another slap on the ass.

  “I’m not a fucking horse.”

  “Of course,” he said, giggling.

  “Fucking idiot.”

  “There’s no cheering you up, is there?”

  I watched him towel himself dry, and that did cheer me up a little, but then I closed the shower curtain and stood under the hot water, going over everything in my head, trying to figure out what Brian was up to.

  It was unfair of me to be so bitchy to Patton and not tell him why. At this point, though, telling him was pointless. We were two-thousand miles away, so if Brian’s plan went down in Indianapolis, there was nothing we could do to stop it.

  And how pissed at me would Patton be to discover I’d known all this time and didn’t tell him? That would make for one awkward trip home.

  Better to just ride it out. Whatever was going to happen, we’d find out on Friday.

  We headed to the restaurant even earlier than planned and on my insistence. I was going nuts sitting in the hotel. I wanted a drink. I wanted to get this over with and go back to Flora. She was putting herself at risk every time she brought food to Judy, even without Liu to catch her. Someone else could show up. James, maybe, and Frog Girl might not have the facilities to remember her instructions to block the door, to protect Flora from anyone who tried to hurt her.

  This time we took one of the tables lined up against the wall opposite the bar. I ordered a sour apple martini and a glass of water.

  “Make that two,” Patton said.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a girl.”

  “Hey, that works out, since you’re switching teams and all.”

  “I’ve always been a lesbian,” I said. “The men I’ve dated? Just really complex dildos.”

  Behind me someone laughed, but I wasn’t sure if it was in response to my comment or just a coincidence.

  The restaurant was more crowded than it had been yesterday. Mostly students, but a handful of patrons wore suits and various uniforms. Early lunch break. It was just past eleven. Mr. Harding was supposed to show up around twelve-thirty.

  Patton and I argued for a few minutes over toppings—I didn’t want green peppers and he didn’t want black olives or onions—but finally we reached a compromise and ordered.

  Sure enough, the pizza came within a few minutes, and despite my complaining about how much food we’d eaten on this trip, I devoured my half of the pizza before Patton finished his second slice.

  I was three martinis in at this point and waiting on my fourth. Patton was staying relatively sober, just now finishing his first.

  “You’re making me look like an alcoholic.”

  He smiled. “You’re making me look like a pansy.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not an alcoholic.”

  Another laugh behind me. I turned around to find a group of college boys giggling, and when one of them made eye contact with me he blushed and looked away quickly. When I turned back to Patton, the table roared with laughter.

  “Those little fuckers are eavesdropping,” I said, loud enough for them to hear.

  “Sorry!” one of them shouted.

  “They’re just having fun,” Patton said.

  When the waiter came around, Patton sent four beers to that table and they all turned around to thank him.

  “You’ll buy rounds for college kids whose parents are probably rich, but you tip waitresses like shit.”

  “Hey, I’m learning as I go.”

  “What’s next? Tying your shoes or wiping your ass?”

  This time the laughter was loud enough to draw the attention of half the restaurant.

  “You should have been a comedian,” Patton said. He started to take a sip of his martini, but he quickly stood up from his seat. “That’s Mr. Harding. I’ll see you shortly.”

  He patted me on the shoulder as he passed.

  Now I felt awkward and vulnerable. A few people were still staring at me, only I was alone with it. There’s no way I could ever be a comedian. I can’t stand being the center of attention. A long time ago I used to toy with the idea of getting a teaching certificate, but it was the thought of standing up in front of a roomful of students that killed it.

  I flagged down the waiter and ordered another martini.

  “Is someone driving you?” he asked.

  “I’m staying at a hotel down the road.”

  “Sorry, I have to ask.”

  “It’s okay. I used to be a waitress. I know the drill. And don’t worry, my boyfriend is rich and I make him tip well.”

  “I’ll be right back,” the waiter said.

  He wasn’t joking. My martini was in front of me before I had time to anticipate it.

  I turned to face the restaurant, leaning my back against the brick wall, and surveyed the bar, spotting Patton and Mr. Harding down near the entrance. For some reason I’d expected Mr. Harding to be old. Grey hair, glasses, brown coat with leather patches on the elbows, the stereotypical professor look.

  This guy looked to be in his early thirties at the most. He must be a genius, too, to be so young and teaching neuroscience—to have caught the attention of Brian.

  I couldn’t hear their conversation over the bustle of the busy restaurant, so I started surveying the room, watching people, trying to eavesdrop but failing.

  My eyes fell upon a girl who was staring in my direction and my heart skipped a beat. I looked away quickly, telling myself she was just some random girl still looking this way after the loud guffawing from the table behind me.

  Then I looked again. She was getting up now, still staring.

  Not in this direction.

  At me.

  It was Ellen.

  Before I could speak, she sat down in Patton’s chair and leaned forward, looking angry and close to tears.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” she whispered harshly.

  I’d completely forgotten about her. Berkeley. She’d left Ted to go to Berkeley. Right here.

  I fumbled my words. “I’m … here … with a friend.”

  “Where’s Ted?” she whispered, voice cracking.

  “What?”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Ellen was crying now, pressing her fist into her mouth, shaking. “I was told you both went missing. The police came here to question me about it. They thought I had something to do with it. Everyone thinks you’re both dead. And suddenly here you are? Where is he, Melissa?”

  “Ellen, I …”

  What was I supposed to do? I felt trapped. No more lies to tell.

  “You killed him, didn’t you?” she demanded, covering her eyes and crying. “Because of me. Because I fucked him.”

  Behind me, the table of college boys was silent.

  “I didn’t kill him,” I said.

  “Then where is he?”

  “I don’t know. He left.”

  She laughed. “He left? He just walked out the door, left his job, his house, his cars, everything? Where did he go? The mountains?”

  She was getting louder. Now more people were paying attention.

  I had to do something.

  Leaning close, I met eyes with her and, in a low voice, said, “He went where you’re gonna go if you don’t shut your fucking mouth.”

  Ellen’s e
yes bulged and she fell back in her seat, stunned. I might as well have confessed to murder.

  I felt a presence next to me. Patton.

  “Everything okay here?” he asked.

  Ellen looked up at him with horror and scrambled out of her seat, making a mad dash for the door.

  “You better hurry up with your interview,” I said.

  “Who was that?”

  “Ellen.”

  He curled his brow for a moment. Then it dawned on him.

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “She’s probably going to the police.”

  “Okay. Mr. Harding is a lock. It didn’t take any convincing. I’m gonna run to the bathroom and then we’ll get out of here.”

  I downed the rest of my martini and waited for Patton to disappear into the bathroom. Then I stood, feeling pretty wobbly, and made my way down the bar to Mr. Harding, taking Patton’s seat next to him.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but someone’s sitting there. He just went to the restroom.”

  “Don’t take the job,” I said, staring straight ahead.

  The basketball game had been interrupted with a Breaking News bulletin, but the televisions were still muted and I was too drunk to focus on the screen.

  “Excuse me?” Mr. Harding said.

  “You don’t want this job, Mr. Harding. Trust me.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Melissa.”

  “Are you with Patton?”

  “Yes.”

  “Forgive me for asking, miss, but why on Earth would I turn down his offer? Do you know how much money is involved?”

  I turned to him. “Dude, you know what happened to the last guy who didn’t take my advice? He wound up dead. Now do yourself a favor, go back to campus, and live out the rest of your life fucking undergrads. It’s a good life. Much better than the one you’ll get with us.”

  “What was your name again?”

  “Melissa.”

  “Well, with all due respect, Melissa, I don’t care how miserable the job is. Five-hundred grand a year makes it worth it.”

  I shook my head. “If I was a man sitting here telling you this, you’d be a little more worried.”

  “What now? Are you calling me sexist?”

  “I’m calling you a fucking idiot.”

  “Okay, just what the hell is this?”

  “A fair warning,” I said. “That’s all.”

  Mr. Harding said something else, but his words were drowned out by someone a few stools over.

  “Hey, bartender, turn that up!” the guy shouted.

  I looked over to find a small group of people had gathered at the bar. They were all watching the flat screen TVs.

  “Everyone, quiet!” the same guy called out.

  The volume died drastically as the bartender turned up the television.

  “… goes without saying that we can’t show you any live footage from the area, but officials have described this shocking event as a city-wide orgy, with literally thousands of people having sexual intercourse seemingly at random on the street. We realize this information is difficult to accept, but anyone in the outlying communities of Indianapolis are strongly advised not to enter the city. This event is not believed to have been staged by a flash mob or performance artists. Again, the event officials are describing seems to be something that is affecting nearly everyone in the Indianapolis metropolitan area. Sources indicate that even police officers have been affected.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and nearly screamed.

  It was Patton, his face a ghostly white. He was crying.

  “We have to go,” he barely choked out.

  “Indianapolis?” Mr. Harding said. “That’s your town, isn’t it? Hey, what’s wrong with your friend here? She’s telling me not to take the job.”

  We both ignored him.

  “He did it,” Patton said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he really did it.”

  If I hadn’t been so angry at dinner that night, I would have remembered.

  The water supply.

  ─Enough to Fill a City─

  WE DROVE thirty hours straight without stopping, and by the time we reached Indianapolis I was in a dreamlike state. No sleep, no food the entire trip. We stopped only for gas, and though Patton offered to buy me snacks, I declined. I had no appetite. It was all I could do to choke down water.

  Water.

  We barely made it into the city. The interstate was clogged with wrecked vehicles. Hundreds of them. Thousands. I had to close my eyes as Patton slowly weaved through them. Some of the cars had dead bodies inside.

  When I felt the car veering onto our exit, I opened my eyes, dreading what I might see.

  I closed them almost immediately.

  All I saw was sex.

  Two large, hairy men, one wearing suit pants around his ankles and nothing else, clinging to a light pole, and another man fucking him, this one wearing nothing but a hardhat.

  An old woman on her back in the middle of the street, a teenager atop her. She wasn’t moving.

  A homeless man wandering aimlessly, stroking his hairy dick. He was close to the car, and when he saw me he turned and headed in my direction, pointing it at me.

  And more.

  Things I don’t dare describe.

  I sobbed hysterically as Patton made his way through the city. The smell of smoke came through the air vents at one point, just before Patton breathed, “Jesus, every other building is on fire.”

  “Don’t tell me,” I cried. “I can’t …”

  I could barely speak. I was losing my mind. I could have stopped this. I could have prevented it.

  Now I deserved to die.

  Finally the car stopped.

  “Melissa.”

  I nodded but kept my eyes closed.

  “We’re here,” he said. I’m going to get out and come around to your side. I’m locking the door when I get out, so you have to unlock it when I get to you, okay? I’m going to open up the store first, then come to you. Okay? Melissa? Melissa!”

  I jumped, opening my eyes and looking at him. In my periphery I could see naked bodies. Luckily through my tears they were just blurs of skin-colored movement. I kept my focus on Patton.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re going to lock the door when you get out, open the store, and then come for me.”

  “So you have to unlock it for me when I get to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be a sitting duck out there. People are fucking all around us.”

  “Are there any …”

  I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  “Just be ready. Keep your head down and your finger on the unlock button. I’ll knock on the window. You have to respond immediately.”

  I nodded, felt around the arm rest for the unlock button, and closed my eyes.

  Patton opened the door, hit the lock, and slammed it shut behind him.

  Now by myself, I could hear the moaning, the rhythmic cries … and screaming. Terrible, mortifying screaming that stripped away any shreds of a soul I had left.

  Then I heard closer screaming. A man, just to my right, growing louder and louder as he drew closer, until suddenly it stopped.

  “Melissa!”

  Patton rapped on the window right next to my ear.

  I hit the unlock button and the car door flew open.

  “Come on!”

  He jerked me out of the car and pulled me toward the door. I opened my eyes but kept them on the ground, and the only thing I saw was a man lying naked on the sidewalk with his head twisted to the side in an impossible way.

  He was dead.

  Patton had broken his neck.

  Inside the store, Patton pulled the door shut and locked it. Then he came and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tight.

  “That was close,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “No I’m not okay!”
/>   I was barely standing. If I’d had a gun right then, I can say with utmost certainty I would have put it in my mouth and squeezed the trigger.

  “We need to get inside,” he said, speaking softly.

  It hit me so fast I tore away from him and sprinted for the manager’s office, Patton chasing after me and calling my name.

  Flora.

  As it turns out, I had to wait for him anyway. The moving bookshelf was blocking the elevator, and I didn’t know how to get it out of the way. I tried to push it before Patton caught up to me, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Patton went around behind the desk and punched some numbers in a panel. Then he came and stood next to me, waiting for the doors to open.

  On Level A, I ran through the lobby into the hallway, past Bob’s office and mine, and slammed into the wall, pressing the elevator button furiously.

  Patton was right next to me this time, and when I pulled the same stunt on Level B, he actually ran ahead of me, which scared me half to death. All the lights were out on this floor except for the backlights illuminating those creepy jars.

  So many fucking elevators!

  By the time I reached the last one, Patton was standing inside, holding the Open button.

  “She better be okay,” I said as we rode up to Level C. “I’m gonna kill them all if she’s not okay.”

  “They have no reason to hurt her,” Patton assured me. “This was Brian’s doing. It has nothing to do with Flora.” The elevator stopped, and suddenly Patton said, “Oh shit. Oh shit. Come on, come on, open goddamn it!”

  The doors opened and Patton pushed me out into the lobby, where the boy Damien lay in the middle of the floor masturbating. Otherwise the lobby was empty.

  I turned back to the elevator in shock to find the doors closing on Patton.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to check on the girls. I’ll come b—”

  His words were cut off.

  I turned. Damien had spotted me and was climbing to his feet.

  Luckily I was faster than him. I sprinted across the lobby and down the hallway, throwing the door open to my room and slamming it shut behind me.

  “Flora!”

  She wasn’t there.

  I checked the closet and then came around the bed, noticing something peculiar as I surveyed the room.

  On the kitchen counter were over a dozen gallon jugs of water.

  “What? How—”