Mad World

[ArtKing1239]

Zac finished his 6th cigarette, and was starting to think he should go home. He could work on some art for awhile, and then go to sleep. He took out one more cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag. The night air was cool, but not unpleasantly so. He closed his eyes and thought about his college days, walking around with a group of people as crazy as he was, holding long conversations with bums, going to the nearest coffee shop to have a smoke, and never buying any coffee - those were the days. He missed them.

 

Zac was just on the last bit of his smoke when she came out of the hospital, without the man by her side. He stood, and walked behind her for a moment. She was obviously miffed.

 

Zac cleared his throat, and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

 

"Hey, I saw you get grabbed by that guy back there. I wanted to know if you were okay... And, don't worry, I have no car to push you into and take you someplace against your will. Only mode of transport I've got are the boots on my feet. But, I guarantee you, they are the finest you can get." Zac smiled, wondering if she would share in his little joke, or just give him the finger and hail a cab.

[ThetaOrionis01]

Charlotte whirled around. She had heard the footsteps, of course, but done her best to ignore them.

 

"What do you want?" After a brief moment of uncertainty, she recognized him, and her apprehension faded somewhat.

 

"Oh, it's you. Zac, isn't it? Did you really follow me and that lunatic just to see I was ok? That's really sweet of you....I guess." She grimaced. "After all, I have no idea why you would want to follow a complete stranger."

 

She sighed, shivered in the cool night air.

 

"I could really use a drink right now - what a night! But I guess at this time of day I'll have to settle for the recycled dishwater they try to pass off as coffee in one of those all night cafes."

 

She hesitated briefly, then added. "You're welcome to join me - if you can bring yourself to drink that fake coffee. And I'm used to walking - walking lets you think. Even though it's a pain in these boots." She grimaced, pretty sure that a blister was already forming where that lout had jumped on her toes earlier on. She hoped the bouncers had dealt with him as he deserved, and deposited him unceremoniously in the alley at the back of the bar.

 

"Oh - I almost forgot. My name's Charlotte."

[ArtKing1239]

Zac looked at her for a moment. She seemed to be okay now, though her feet were obviously paining her.

 

"Charlotte, huh? Well, Charlotte, that's a beautiful name. An uncommon one, as well. I believe you are the only Charlotte I have ever met. I assume you're referring to Frank's, with the dish-water and all. As it happens, I know Frank. For me, he makes decent coffee; not good coffee, mind you, I don't believe Frank knows how to make a good cup of Joe. He sells the watered down stock to the general populace, and makes more money than most other places in town by doing it, too."

 

Zac brushed off his pants, and took another smoke from his case. It was a chromed-metal, inscribed job, given to him by his grandfather before he died. They had the same first name, so it worked out okay. He popped the cigarette in his mouth, and lit it with his Zippo.

 

"I'll offer you a cigarette, if you want one. If not, I hope you don't mind if I smoke. I'll offer you some good vodka to put in your coffee, when the time comes, if you'd like that as well; also, I'd like to offer you my arm - Not my hand, but my arm. For support, of course, in case you get a little lightheaded as we walk to the cafe."

 

Zac smiled, and offered his arm to Charlotte.

[ThetaOrionis01]

Charlotte shook her head slightly. "I'm fine, really. I can walk - I've walked further and in a worse state than this many times. And I don't smoke, but I don't mind if others do. But I'll take you up on the vodka offer - might even make that coffee drinkable."

 

 

There was little traffic about at this hour, the city hadn't yet sprung to life again. The odd cab. A police siren in the distance. An almost empty bus. But anytime she heard an engine behind her Charlotte tensed, fought the urge to look over her shoulder...and usually lost. After the third time she felt the need to explain this.

 

"I was so scared, in the back of that guy's car...I hoped the cops would pull him over for something, spot my bloody face in the back. I've never been involved with any of the gangs that I know of, but ....well...all kinds of thoughts were going round in my head. Maybe my boss was owing someone money, and they thought I had keys to the store. Or maybe someone was trying to get at my friend through me - he's even made a joke about that once, about it being dangerous for me to stay with him in case he upset some crime boss or other. I laughed about it then...but in the back of that car....Then we got to the hospital...and..."

 

She grinned ruefully. "I slapped that guy pretty hard - he deserved that for the fear alone. And- "

 

She looked down. "I hate hospitals. I never want to have to go back to one."

 

What the heck is wrong with me? she thought. I must have hit my head harder than I thought, telling this guy all that. Next thing I'll be spilling my life story to a complete stranger. And what is he doing here? He never told me why he followed me here.

 

 

Charlotte reached into the capacious pocket of her skirt, grimaced with distaste as her fingers encountered her bloodstained gloves. Found the tissue she had been searching for, and cautiously wiped her nose. Something, though, made her reach back into her pocket, pull out the gloves, the tiny purse which held just enough money for a night out and a taxi home. The keys to the apartment were there. Her small pen.

 

"Oh, damn!" she cursed softly, added by way of explanation: "I've lost my notebook. Probably still lying on the dancefloor in the Dead End."

 

At least she hoped it was, and that the cleaners would simply sweep it up and throw it out. The thought that someone might find it, and read it, was one she dreaded.

[OddGuy]

Daniel eventually begins to see other members of his band arrive at the Dead End, and a couple hours later, they get up on stage and play a little. No big deal. The crowd likes it, enjoys it, but it wasn't the greatest gig in the world. Afterwards, he thinks for a minute about going home and surfing the net for a while, but decides against it.

 

He sees a notebook on the floor. He walks over and picks it up; flips through it. Just someone's notebook, with stuff written on most of the pages. He wonders whether to keep it; almost anything is worth something to someone. He flips through it again, briefly, and decides to just leave it there so the next person who comes along can decide what to do with it.

[wesaynothin]

Mike eventually leaves the hospital. gets in his car and goes home.

 

"Damn last time I leave my house. everytime I try to help someone, It seems like I screw it up and get hit. My face probably has the prints of a thousand women."He says glumly to himself, heading upstairs.

 

When he gets to his apartment, he turns on his computer and starts rebuilding his safety program.

[ArtKing1239]

Zac felt a little sorry for her. She was just trying to have a nice night out, and all of the sudden she got in this mess. A guy throws her into his car, and then another guy follows them just to make sure she was safe. If he were in her position, he might not be taking it as well as she was. In fact, he might have decked the guy, rather than just smacking him and giving him a reproach; he probably would have told anyone who was following him to get lost, as well. He smiled at her. She was a pretty strong woman.

 

And, now, she had lost her notebook, something she obviously held as a prize possession. Something that probably held her innermost thoughts.

 

Zac viewed people actually reading and copying other people's thoughts as mental rape. He hoped no one had grabbed it.

 

"Well, we can always call Dead End and ask if they've found it. Or, go back and get it, if it's still there. Then we can come back and have our coffee. Or, if you're too tired by then, I'll understand. It's gotta be around 5:00 by now. Sun's starting to show itself. He and I don't see much of each other. It's up to you."

[ThetaOrionis01]

Charlotte glanced at her watch. 5.15.

 

"I've got to be at work in just over 3 hours' time," she replied, grimaced. "It's quite a way to the Dead End, and I'm sure the cleaners will have been in before we'd get there. Maybe calling the place would be the best idea. I hope the cafe has a phone that works."

 

If anyone found and read that notebook, I hope it isn't someone who knows me, she thought. Maybe if Dale's band hadn't split up and they'd gone ahead with using my poetry for lyrics I wouldn't be so embarrassed about anyone else reading it...but things just never work out like you want them to.

 

"Then again," she added as an afterthought, "it could be in that guy's car. So I guess I'd better accept that I've lost it for good. It's not irreplacable - I've got most of it copied out at home. Just the thought of someone finding it..."

 

She shrugged.

[ArtKing1239]

The morning was getting bright. And, if she had to get to work, Zac figured they should probably get their coffee. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve, not because he was sweating but because of habit. He pulled out another smoke, and decided he'd switch to Salem Black Labels soon. He lit it, and took a drag, exhaling the smoke slowly and thoughtfully. At some length, and after a silence that was rather comfortable, rather than awkward, Zac spoke.

 

"Let's get coffee. I'm going anyways, so you might as well come along. If you've got it copied, it's probably okay. If you left it at the club, then one of the bouncers or cleanup crew probably found it, looked inside, and figured it was one of the regular's. Any way you look at it, it works out okay. And, if someone reads it - Big deal. I know it might make you feel sick, but what're they gonna do with it, blackmail you?"

 

Zac started walking towards Frank's.

[OddGuy]

Daniel, looking at his watch, decides that it's time to go home. He gets up from the barstool he's been sitting on for the past two and a half hours, and heads down the alley he generally goes down on his way home from the Dead End.

 

Seeing a few tough-looking guys that look like they might be part of a gang he might have recently pissed off, he pulls his hood up over his head and hopes they don't notice him. As he walks by one of them, he hears a shout. "Hey, it's that little piece of $hit what killed Ghost, man!"

 

Damn. Daniel pulls out his gun and begins to run. He fires off a few shots behind him, not turning around to see whether the rounds hit anything. He feels a bullet whiz by his left leg and speeds up. Seeing that he is nearing the end of the alley and his apartment, he wonders how mad his neighbor will be if a few bullet holes appeared on his new Jeep.

 

Screw it; I'll never get away from these guys otherwise.

 

He hops in the vehicle, starts it up, and careens out of there. He looks in the side view mirror just in time to see a bullet shatter it. Damn. Well, I guess I'll stop by Joe's, get a new one put in, and hope Jeff doesn't get home too early.