Marcus in Retrograde

by S A Sommers

  “Ugh!” He dropped back into his chair. “Of course you can’t handle me, no one can handle me.”

  “Including yourself, Ash,” I said.

  Standing, I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and pulled out two twenties. “That should cover my food and a generous tip. I mean, thanks for the restaurant rec, but I’ve got to come back when not everyone in here wants to take your head off with a meat cleaver.” I turned and headed for the door.

  “Why on Earth would they want to do that?” he gasped, indignant.

  I turned back. “Because you’re loud. You’re annoying. You’re pissing everyone else off with your free lunch show, when all they want is soup and salad in peace! Grow the hell up and stop acting a fool.”

  “I’m gay, this is just the way—”

  Slamming my hands on the table, I leaned in and backed him down. “I’m gay, too, and you don’t see me pissing off everyone else in the place. It’s not your sexuality, Ashton. It’s your rotten, narcissistic attitude. Grow. Up.”

  “Uh!” Ashton rolled his eyes. “I guess all you were was a hot ass.”

  I couldn’t stop myself.

  I turned, slapped my ass and stared right at him. “Honey, this is the hottest ass you are never going to tap. Say goodbye and give it a kiss.”

  Heading for the door, I realized everyone in the restaurant, including the waitstaff and two sous chefs peeking out from the back, was clapping. Stopping at the door, I let my inner actor out, and took a bow.

  The isolation of my soundproof office was everything I needed when I finally got there. I’d stopped for a six pack of beer on the way there, because I sure as hell was going to need it that night.

  Sorcha, however, was standing at her door as I walked by. “How’d it go?”

  I held up the six pack of Brooklyn Brown Ale.

  “Oh, shit, that good or that bad?”

  “Bad. Terrible? No, let’s go with horrific.”

  “I’m sorry, man,” she said.

  “Yeah, me too. I’m just gonna work on my assignments for the day and go to the office supply tonight for my fun stuff. That’ll help. And then I’ll go home and drink a few a beers with the best Chinese I’ve ever had.”

  She agreed, “That’s a plan.”

  Charlene: DATE. Need info, pronto, lil bro!

  Christy-Anne: DATE!?

  Daaaad: It’s June third.

  Moooom: Martin! Quit it. Your son had a date.

  Daaaad: Date!

  Marcus: You are all intolerable and embarrassing.

  Christy-Anne: Embarrassed? It’s a group text and I used to give you wedgies in person. Spill it, M.

  Marcus: It was horrible. I’m glad he works for a client and not in house.

  Charlene: Was he cute?

  Marcus: I wouldn’t have agreed to go with him if I didn’t find him attractive, but OMG. I’m shocked the tablecloth didn’t catch fire.

  Charlene: Get lucky?

  Marcus: Char!

  Moooom: Charlene Elizabeth!

  Daaaad: Charlene!

  Christy-Anne: Did you?

  Marcus: Lucky to get away, yes.

  Charlene: Whomp whomp.

  Marcus: I had to Make A Scene in the restaurant to get him to back off. It was just bad, you guys.

  Moooom: Do you want us to come down? We could help with those curtains while we were there.

  Marcus: I’m fine. I promise.

  Moooom: You let us know if you need anything, Marc.

  Marcus: I know, Mom. Thanks.

  I stopped in the hall and cocked my head.

  Shit. I could hear Pollux barking from here. What was that fool dog up to? He’d never barked like this back at my parents’ place. The only thing in the building that were a threat were probably the other tenants and some mice.

  Okay, and a roach or five.

  I walked up the stairs, and there was another note.

  302,

  Please, I’m begging you. Do something about your dog. I don’t want to lodge a complaint with the owner. But I need to sleep and Poochie just keeps on keepin’ on. He’s also bothering Mrs. Benevedes downstairs, and she’s eighty-nine and has had enough of life’s shit already.

  301

  This was really a problem. I couldn’t lose this place. I’d gotten such a deal on it and it gave me the freedom to not have to share with two or three other guys. I glanced at the bottom and it was a picture of someone angrily dialing a phone with their hat on backward.

  I was suddenly aware of two things: One my neighbor was a dude, not a woman. And two…

  Two, he was a Cubs fan.

  A Cubs fan in New York City? I was enough of an outlier by being one in Troy, but this was the city that two of every sports team: football, baseball, basketball—and three local hockey teams…but did the Islanders ever really count?

  I stared at the baseball cap.

  Now, this was even worse. My dog was alienating a potential ally in this city. Being Cubs fans in Mets/Yankees territory was always a dangerous proposition. Not as dangerous as being a BoSox fan, but still a risky proposition. If I could find someone to watch a game with me once in a while, this would be a major, major win.

  Shit. Shit.

  I ran into my apartment and found Pollux on the couch, quite literally barking at the wall.

  What was going on with this animal?

  “Get down. Pollux, get down. Stop barking at the wall, you dingbat. It’s a wall, you’ve seen them before!” I pulled him off the couch and put him on the ground. “You’ve walked into them!”

  “Woof?” He cocked his head at me and I let out a sigh. Half basset hound, half golden retriever, all idiot.

  I had to walk him, soon. I hadn’t ordered the emergency potty patch yet, so he had to go out. But I wanted to get the next note up and call a truce. Maybe if he met Pollux, the idiot would stop barking at his wall.

  I grabbed the pen and paper and wrote up a quick note, and as fast and as neat as I could, I sketched out a simple drawing offering an apology and the potential to make peace with me and the Wall Barking Wunderhund.

  Pollux was nearly dancing in front of the door by the time I got done and he pulled hard on the leash as I headed for the bulletin board. He made a beeline for the stairs, but I stopped him just long enough to pin the note. He pulled so hard I thought I was going to go ass over teakettle down them before I could get him to heel.

  “Dude, stop! I know you have to pee! You wouldn’t be in a rush if you didn’t bark at walls!”

  He made it to the fire hydrant, thank God. I was afraid he was going to pee on the steps. The grocery store manager was outside hosing off the front of his place and I asked if I could borrow the hose.

  “I wash. I watch so many dog peess on hydrant, I wash every day.”

  “Thank you! He doesn’t usually make that a habit.”

  He waved me off. “You have good dog. No worries friend. At least you not drop a turd in front of my fruits and pretend you not see it.”

  I grimaced. “Ew.”

  “Very much ew. That is why we wash!”

  Laughing, I headed down the block to the cross street and up to Washington Park. Apparently, Pollux had been pregaming and peed on every tree along the way, and on the way back. He was such a funny, friendly looking dog that people always wanted to make friends with him. Once around the park, though, and I was ready to go back.

  I really just wanted to sit down, eat dinner on the couch and try relaxing a bit. The Brooklyn Brown Ale was calling my name.

  CHASE

  MISTER ABRAMOVICH WAS HOSING the hydrant again. I was glad that he was—there were some nasty people in this city. I waved and walked into the bodega, heading for the vegetables and meats.

  I stood staring at them for a minute, trying to figure out what I felt like cooking, if I felt like cooking and what the hell to cook.

  Living next door to Abramovich and Daughter was the best thing ever. I rarely kept more than a day’s worth of food in the hou
se because they were right there, and everything was fresh. I cooked almost every night. Noah had laughed that I shopped every day, but when we compared our spending and our food waste, he was sold and found a great little bodega by his place.

  I didn’t want anything complicated, so I grabbed a head of lettuce, a package of bacon, a cucumber and called it lettuce wedge salad kind of night.

  Heading back out of the store, I danced around the hose that Mr. Abramovich was using, and swearing at. Apparently another dog owner had let their precious crap in front of his apples. Just from listening to him, I had picked up the words stupid motherfuckers in Russian, and he was using it liberally now.

  Kieran had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch the night before and fled in a panic in the morning. We’d teasingly texted each other all day and immediately saw that while Kieran wasn’t going to be a love interest, he was going to be a real friend. And that was worth the time I’d invested getting to know him. I’d already invited him to the bar on Thursday.

  Kieran: It wasn’t even a walk of shame, it was a flat out run of horror. I’m just getting home now and ohdearGod, I need a shower.

  I laughed at the text as I walked up the stairs. Yeah, this guy was going to be a winner in the friends department.

  The giant green 301 on the bulletin caught my attention, and I stopped to pluck the new note off the board.

  Last night had been the worst night yet for all the barking. And barking. And barking. I had determined that after the first morning note had disappeared, the situation had warranted a second note. This dog just could not keep barking overnight.

  Even the sweet retiree the floor below had said something to me about Barky McBarkerson.

  Depositing everything in the kitchen, I took a moment to turn on the oven to cook the bacon for my bacon crumbles. I dropped the note on the table and decided the shower that I also needed would wait until closer to bedtime.

  I stared at the note again.

  I liked animals. I did. They were wonderful. But in close quarters like this, where the buildings were old, and the walls weren’t insulated or soundproofed…dogs had to not bark. Even if it was my own dog. Even it was the most adorable or awkward pup ever.

  Snatching the paper back, I flipped it open.

  301

  I think my dog is broken. I have no idea why he barks at the walls. But what if we call a truce? There’s a chance that this moron may just be barking because he doesn’t know you. Meet him? And enjoy a beer with me over an afternoon of Cubbies baseball?

  302

  If I could have gasped, I would. I couldn’t though because I was breathless.

  A Cubbies fan? Next door? My eyes shot to the hat I had perched up on a shelf in the living room. It sat between two trophies, above a few ribbons and next to a single framed ticket.

  It wasn’t that I was even a hard-core Cubbies fan, it had grown more and more casual over the years. It was that I had so much attached to those memories.

  Glancing back to the paper, there was an adorable but strange looking dog drawn on the bottom, with a case of Brooklyn Brown in his mouth, and a question on his face.

  How could I say no? Maybe, just maybe, meeting the barking menace would solve the problem. And the idea of having an afternoon of baseball, beer, and maybe food would be amazing.

  The hall outside the apartment was suddenly a racket. I heard a dog barking, but not toward the direction of me or the stairs. There were more bangs and swearing and someone yelled ‘ouch’ in the midst of the chaos.

  The front door slammed and I could swear that I heard the glass crack.

  I ran for my apartment door, slamming my keys in my pocket and jerking the door shut behind me. I nearly flew down the flight from the third floor to the second. As soon as I was at the top of the next flight, I could see what was going on.

  A very large, broad shouldered brown haired man had a greasy looking dude in a headlock. Missy Billing was standing back against the wall, holding a hand to her face, clearly bleeding. A dog was barking and growling at the large man and his quarry.

  I jumped down the last stairs.

  “Lemme go!”

  “Give me the wallet, you asswipe. Give it to me!”

  Missy looked confused watching this, so I opted to run over to her—not to mention Burly Man had the grease ball in hand. “Missy?”

  “Oh, shit, Chase, thank God!”

  “What’s going on?”

  She glanced at the two men fighting. “They came out of nowhere and slammed into the wall next to me.”

  The burly guy slammed his fist into the greasy one’s neck and finally, Grease Ball let go and slumped to the floor.

  Burly Man stood, and revealed a very delicious looking human. Tall, but leanly muscled, and his sleeves were rolled up which did funny things to me.

  Glancing around, he finally spied the dog and lunged for the leash. “Pollux, quit it. You can pee on him if you want, but you’re not allowed to kill him.” He found me standing next to Missy and seemed to hiccup, then held the leash out for me. “Can you hold him for a minute?”

  Mute, I nodded and held the dog who was now more interested in me. The man leaned down and flipped the unconscious grease ball over and yanked something out of his front pants pocket.

  Coming back over to me and Missy, he held the objects out. “Here you go. Wallet and keys.”

  “Holy shit, he pickpocketed me?” Missy stared at the wallet.

  “I’ve seen him around, I think it was more nefarious than that. I think he planned to rob your apartment.”

  I had already dialed 911 on the phone, but was rendered speechless by that assessment.

  “Hello? This is 911, what is your emergency?”

  “Oh! Yeah, my neighbor was just attacked and pickpocketed. We have the guy, he’s knocked out. Could you send police and an ambulance?”

  “What’s your address, sir?”

  I rattled it off and the operator asked if I wanted to stay on the line, but I didn’t think it was really necessary. I thought that I heard a cop car screaming closer already.

  The greasy dude groaned from the ground and the Burly Hunk Man stood over him, beckoning for the leash for his dog. I handed it over, and he nodded.

  “Pollux, sit.” He looked at the guy who was starting to rouse. “He’s not a bad dog, but he knows s-i-c, and I suggest you don’t move.”

  The guy tried to raise his head, but flopped back down to the ground with a thump.

  “Missy, are you okay?” I asked.

  She looked at me, and finally seemed to come back to herself. “Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. Holy shit. I’m good. I had no idea the guy had pickpocketed me. Thank you…”

  “Marcus,” the handsome burly man supplied. “Don’t mention it.”

  The cops hopped up the steps at that moment and quickly assessed the situation. They waited for the ambulance before moving the grease ball, but took statements from me, Missy, and Marcus.

  It turned out that Marcus had been walking a few dozen feet behind Missy on the way to the building. He’d seen the guy around and hadn’t liked his look much, and when he saw the hand dip into her purse as she turned to walk up the stairs, he’d gone full linebacker and slammed him to the door as it closed behind Missy.

  He’d managed to tackle and wrestle him into the hall and that was when I came flying down the stairs.

  We watched as the medics rolled the handcuffed suspect out the door on a stretcher. He’d had a pretty good cut on this forehead and they wanted to check him for a concussion.

  As soon as the door closed, the officer turned to us. “Well, sir, you’ll be delighted to know that there has been a rash of break-ins in the area and we’ve been trying to figure how it was happening. It looks like you just solved the whole thing.”

  “Good,” Marcus said. “Glad I could help.”

  The officer turned to Missy. “I’d ask the super to change your locks and maybe get a keypad for the front door as well. The latch didn�
��t catch well and that’s how you were able to fall into the building.”

  “I’ll talk to the owner,” I volunteered.

  “I’ll stop buy the hardware store and grab a new lock set for Missy’s door. I can put it in tomorrow.”

  Missy nodded. “Thank you, I’d appreciate that.” She knelt down to the dog. “And thank you, Pollux. You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Going after the bad guys.”

  He woofed, and then gave three sharp barks I was entirely to familiar with.

  My head snapped up to Marcus. “You’re three-oh-two!”

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “I’m three-oh-one!”

  “Ohhh, yeah… Uh…” He rubbed his neck and looked down.

  “You’re a Cubs fan.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  “I am?”

  “Are you not sure?

  “I’m not sure where this is going...”

  I laughed. “I’m a Cubs fan.”

  “Oh. Oh! You are? Wait, you noticed the Cubs hat in my drawing?”

  Nodding, I couldn’t keep the idiotic smile off my face. “I’m a graphic designer. Details like that jump out at me all the time. I’m surprised you noticed the one in mine…”

  Marcus was clearly shocked. “Well, I uh…I guess my idea of you meeting Pollux here has been accomplished.”

  Missy leaned in between us. “The nice officer said we’re free to go now, so I’m going to let you two guys chat it up in the hall.”

  “Oh, hey, sorry,” I said, kicking myself mentally for ignoring the woman who was attacked half an hour before. “Yeah, I’ll go talk to Mister Davos about this front door.”

  “Thank you,” she said, sincerely. “Thank you both. That could have been a real mess if you hadn’t been on your toes, Marcus.”

  “Pollux growled at him the other day. And I already didn’t like the guy.” He smiled. “Anyone would have done the same thing.”

  Missy patted his cheek, and grinned at me. “Newb to the city. Chase, just make sure that he knows anyone wouldn’t have done that. Just a cute former football player from Troy.”