“I’m game,” Mark says. “Let me get Raj.”
“Raj is here?” I wonder. I’m surprised that there’s been another person in the apartment that I haven’t even seen yet.
“Yeah, he’s asleep,” Mark says with a laugh.
I shake my head, wondering how anyone can sleep until eight at night. It’s starting to look like I was right about these people being vampires. They’re completely nocturnal.
About five minutes later, Raj appears. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and no shirt. He stretches and gives me a smile, which is more than either of his roommates have done.
“Frankie, right?” Raj asks.
“That’s right,” I exclaim, surprised that he remembers.
“What’s up?” Raj continues, coming forward to offer me his hand.
I take it, but that isn’t what he had in mind. He pulls back and then slaps my open palm in some kind of gang-like greeting. I do my best to keep up, and he laughs at me. Everyone laughs. It seems like they’re finally coming awake.
“Who’s the designated driver?” I wonder.
The three of them look at each other and break into laughter.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll be it.”
“No worries,” Brandon assures me. “We’ll get trashed enough for you, too.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Who was sitting at the kitchen table?” I realize that I’ve lost track of the fourth roommate who silently disappeared at some point.
“Greg,” Brandon answers. “He’s not coming with us.”
“Why not?” I ask.
Brandon shakes his head as if the question is absurd. No one else steps in to explain, so I’m forced to wallow in my curiosity. The whole setup is strange. After weeks of shadowing my father’s employees, I thought I was accustomed to gruff people doing bizarre things. But apparently not.
The four of us leave the apartment to drive to Sully’s. Raj and Mark get into my backseat, and Brandon sits up front. All the energy they were lacking earlier in the day has come back to them tenfold. They talk nonstop, demanding to be driven to a fast-food drive-thru both before and after the bar.
They dance and sing karaoke; they try unsuccessfully to pick up girls. By the time we return to the apartment, it’s four in the morning. The mystery roommate is in the kitchen again, this time staring at the wall. Nobody says hello to him as we all trudge toward our beds.
“You mind sleeping on the couch?” Brandon asks.
“No problem,” I say.
He doesn’t give me any pillows or blankets. He doesn’t even offer a towel so that I can take a shower. Instead, he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, leaving me to fend for myself. I sit down heavily and take my shoes off. Putting my head on one of the couch arms, I gaze into the kitchen. The unnamed roommate is still staring at the wall, as if he didn’t even notice the rest of us coming in.
That’s strange.
I’ve been in multiple situations where dangerous people hover, but this isn’t exactly the same. My father’s soldiers aren’t often drunk or high. Clearly, this fourth roommate is on some kind of drug that renders him incapable of having a meaningful interaction with anyone. I wonder if he’s going to attack me in my sleep, but then I decide that he’s probably harmless. He doesn’t even look like he knows I’m here, so I close my eyes and try to relax.
When I wake up, the sun is doing its best to break through the curtains. I have to check my phone for the time. It’s later than I expected, but apparently not so late that anyone else is stirring. The kitchen is empty, so I decide to investigate the breakfast situation.
They have a couple of eggs in the refrigerator, along with a bag full of takeout, a case of beer, and two bottles of ketchup. Eggs it is. I pull the carton out and set it on the counter, washing a pan before using it to cook with because I don’t know where it’s been.
There aren’t very many eggs, but I cook them all. I figure whoever wakes up first might like to have some. I can’t find a plate, but there’s a plastic fork in one drawer. I pull that out and help myself to a few bites from the pan.
This kind of living is already depressing, and it’s only been one day. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m not ready to go back home and face my father. He thinks I’m doing something constructive to address the Sofia problem.
I wonder how she’s doing. Was she able to sleep last night, or did my threats send her into a panic? Is she still in the same apartment, or has she given her notice? I wish I could talk to Brandon about everything that’s going on with me, but he’s too far gone.
I stick it out for another two days before I’m climbing the walls. They have an upside-down schedule that involves watching television until early evening and then partying all night long. But even when they are lucid, they don’t talk about anything real. Their conversational topics stick to friends that they know, women, and drugs. I’d be happy to talk about women, but the other two don’t interest me. And there’s really only one woman in particular. I’m not fond of discussing boobs in general.
