As the cop walked to the car Charlie seemed especially fidgety.
Dude, relax, you weren't speeding by much. Play it right and he'll let you off with a warning. Maybe show him your tits.
There was a tap at the driver side window and that actor you recognize from so many things but can't remember from a single one was standing there. He had his hand on his gun the entire time and stared at me an extra beat because of course a cop would do that. He had this part nailed.
He knew Charlie and let him off with a warning.
Charlie didn't give me a hug or a grab my ass when we parted at the airport.
I headed back to his place to house sit for the week. His annoying across-the-street neighbors were outside working on the bug *punch*. They stared at me like I fucked their cat.
I parked the car in the driveway and went inside. It was weird seeing Buster's bowls there.
I still miss you, too, little guy.
I went to the guest room and threw my bag down. Then I went and fired up his X-Box.
Dude, you really need to get a fucking Playstation.
At some point that actor cop showed up with a sidekick/trainee, Janeane Garrafalo. The actress, not the quarterback.
Do you mind if we look in the car?
Got a warrant?
No, but I can get one.
Well, come back with one and you can but, not until then.
They walked off the porch and I noticed the redneck across the street staring again.
I went back inside and thought about what the cops could possibly have been wanting to look for.
If that fucker had coke in the car I am going to cut him.
The next morning there was a knock on the door. It was Lila Tournay.
Hi, I'm a friend of Charlie's.
She let herself in. I watched her walk.
I took care of the coke.
Dammit, I knew that fucker was using again!
Yeah, it's cool though. He's got it under control.
She walked out the back door. She looked back at Buster's bowls and then back at me. She missed the little guy, too.
I packed my shit and headed out the back door to say goodbye. She was gardening. In a short skirt, silk top and no bra. Weird.
I'm heading out.
Don't leave yet.
I was driving my dad's Chrysler van from the 80s. The thing was a piece of shit. I could still smell Lila on me.
Weird, I don't remember fu... dammit, this is a fucking dream! Of course it is, I'm driving my dad's shitty van that he got rid of a decade before he fucking died!
My phone lit up. It was Charlie.
Hey. Did Lila show up?
Did she get rid of the stuff?
Coke, Charlie, it's cocaine, not 'stuff'.
Whatever, did she -
- I shoved in your asshole neighbor's mailbox and made an anonymous call to the cops.
Ha! I hate those fuckers!
Me too, Charlie.
Did you fuck Lila?
Would it make it better if I tell you I can't remember?
Then the alarm went off.
I am off to Boston.
Postscript, Charlie has never done coke that I am aware of. If he has, the fucker never shared.