Previously on UnabashedlyBad: Angel and Jeff made us all want to gouge our eyes out by being generally gross. Dustin and Angel made up. Dustin talked about Tahiti. Angel decided to call Jeff. Zzzzzzzz. Today, as promised: an Angel-free chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter 60: Passenger
“So let me get this straight,” Chris said as he tossed his duffel bag into the trunk. [huzzah! Duffel bagging!] “You got a job applying make-up?”
“You make it sound so glamorous,” Justina said dryly.
“It’s just weird. All the guys do their own paint.”
“Not on guys, dipwad. On the women. You know how much they’ve got invested in T&A.”
“But I thought you were in fashion.”
“I am. But that’s more of a side job—I take orders and make ring outfits. But that’s not a steady gig. Plus,” she added, getting into the driver’s side, “Now I get to travel, see the country.”
“Sounds like a pretty lame fringe benefit, Foss. Traveling is heinous after a while.”
“So where exactly are we off to again?” she asked as Chris closed the door.
“Harrisburg, PA.”
“Long drive.” [from Baltimore? No it’s not. Not even close.]
“Yep, but cheaper than flying.” [of course it is. Who would fly from Baltimore to Harrisburg?]
“Gives us time.”
“For what?”
“To sort this out.”
“Justina …”
“Chris, it’s been a while. We need to talk. I need to talk, if nothing else.”
“Allright. I guess I’m not going anywhere … unless I want to walk to Harrisburg. Although that does sound like an attractive option right now.”
“So I think I finally saw Angel.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm. She’s the nurse, right?”
“One of them. I think there are two now.”
“Well, the one I saw was blonde.”
“They’re both blonde.”
“Oh this one was with Dustin Rhodes and …”
“That was her.”
“Ah. Well. She’s pretty.”
“Yep.”
“Extra pretty.” [you need a few more “extras” if you want to accurately convey her physical beauty, lady. Like at least a baker’s dozen of “extras”.]
“Foss …”
“I’m just saying … you have good taste. Anyway, what was she like?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, I guess. I’m just curious.”
“Well what was Scott like.”
“He was a nice guy. A little overemotional. Kind of weird about sex. But a nice guy.”
“Weird how?”
“Like … he was interested in doing it, but not about talking about it. You know?”
“Huh.”
“Yeah. So what was she like in bed?”
“Foss …” His tone sharpened.
“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.”
They sat in silence for the next few minutes. [a few minutes? They must be halfway to Harrisburg, then.]
“I don’t know, actually.”
“What?”
“What she was like in bed. We never slept together.”
“You didn’t? But I thought you’d been dating for a while.”
“We were. She was waiting for marriage.”
“Oh. Not ready to seal your coffin, eh?”
“Charming portrait of holy matrimony. And actually, she was the commitment-phobe. I proposed and she turned me down.”
“You proposed?” Justina nearly swerved into the next lane.
“Careful there.”
“Damn. I guess it was pretty serious.”
“You could say that.” Chris studied the landscape intensely. [ah, the beautiful I-83 corridor]
“I’m sorry, Chris.”
He nodded and swallowed hard.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Not really. Wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Do you … do you want her back?”
“Justina …”
“I won’t be mad, Chris. I just want an honest answer.”
“No. We’re done. We had a lot of issues independent of you and me. So no.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What are we, Chris?”
“We are … Justipher 2.0.”
“Ugg, I’ve been trying to forget that nickname ever since we graduated.”
“I lobbied hard for Chris-tina.”
“Christina Adkins shot that down.”
“Remember that crazy English professor?”
“Hey … Cavanaugh was an integral portion to my education portion.”
“Your hair was awesome back in the day.”
“Speak for yourself.” [is that the proper retort? I think she means “you’re one to talk” or something like that]
“You went through hair spray like water.”
“Again, speak for yourself.” [see above]
“Guilty,” Chris said, smiling.
“Chris, how did you end up in my hotel room?”
“That was my hotel room.”
“What a bizarre mix-up.”
“I know.”
“Fate?”
“Who knows?” Chris said. He reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet. “I’ll make a deal with you. You let me sleep the rest of the way, I’ll cover gas money.” [so you get a 20-minute nap and have to chip in $3.50?]
“I choose the music.”
“Deal.” Chris opened his wallet. He grabbed two twenties and put them into the glove compartment. Before closing his wallet, he removed the picture of Angel. Justina watched him from the corner of her eye.
Chris rolled down the window and let the picture flutter out. Then he closed his eyes and reclined his seat back.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Justina said.
“Yes I did.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
NOTES:
1) That’s nice. So now women can either be nurses, secretaries, seamstresses, or make-up artists. Or, of course, vindictive psychos.
2) Chris, heartbreak is no excuse for littering. On another note, does anyone carry pictures of their girlfriends in their wallet? Slice sure as heck doesn’t. He prides himself on having as little as possible in his wallet. I think he’s got one credit card, his license, and maybe a dollar. Also, his wallet is made out of duct tape. To be fair, I’ve never given him a wallet-sized photo of me. Sears portrait studio, here I come!
COMING UP NEXT …
This Angelless chapter was nice, no? Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, because the next one is chock full o’ Angel. It also features a character I’m willing to bet most of you had forgotten about. The mystery of who that character is should probably be solved upon reading the title of our next thrilling installment … tune in next time for …
Chapter 61: Deuce
2 comments:
"was an integral portion to my education portion." REALLY? What does that even mean?
Sister-In-Law went to college near Harrisburg. She and her friends used to take day trips to Baltimore.
Was this when "Bennifer" was popular?
I think the awkward phrasing was a reference to the way they made fun of their English professor. Hilarious, no? I can barely type, I am laughing so hard.
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