He’s looking away, so I ducked into the alley that runs beside the apartment building. Five cars sat in the back parking lot, none of them from the current decade. No one in sight until I reached the backdoor. There was a large, passed-out, drunk man propped against the door. Guess smoking dude isn’t as bad as trying to get past this character.
I turned back to the alley and then back out to Fillmore Street. When I don’t see him, I quickened my pace and race through the front entrance.
“Whoa.” Smoking dude blocked my way and studied me with crystal blue eyes. “What’s the hurry?”
“Gotta get to the bathroom. Not feeling good.” I threw my hand over my mouth and pushed past him. I dropped my hand once I reached the second floor because he isn’t following. Mildred’s body odor and the smell of stale cigarette smoke gagged me as walked down the hallway.
Before I can reach the stairs leading from the second floor to the third, I have to pass her apartment. She’s sitting on a chair in her doorway hacking and smoking a Marlboro. She dangled a key at me. “Jillian, go get my mail, girlie.”
As I hurried past her I shouted over my shoulder, “Not today Mildred. I’ve gotta get to the bathroom.” I ran up the stairs, unlocked the thin, wood door to my apartment, and stepped inside my tiny sanctuary. Except there was a foul, sickly sweet odor in the air. The trash went two days ago; it’s not that. I shivered. I don’t want to find a dead mouse. Yuck.
The red light flashed on the answering machine, a single message. Was it Greg my ex wanting me back or was it Rick’s Automotive? Taking a deep breath, I pressed the button, and listened.
“Jillian, it’s Tom down at Rick’s. Need to tow your car somewhere else or Rick’s going to start charging you to store it. Or, since the engine is blown, he said you could also sell it to him for parts, but you’d have to call back for the offer. He wants to hear back from you before the end of the day tomorrow.”
Knew it was too good to be true to think Greg would want me back. Bet Rick won’t give me more that a few bucks for the bucket of bolts.
While the bathwater ran, I searched the parameter of my apartment for the smelly offender.
******
Man she is fine! Not as pretty as Mary, but she has a nice body. I tucked the pink envelop in my pocket and slowly climbed the stairs towards my new girlfriend’s apartment. Well, she will be my new girlfriend when she realizes what a catch I am. Too bad Mary didn’t stick around to see how much my next girlfriend will love me.
I reached second floor and the pungent body odor punched me. Mildred has her door open. It’s a wonder the old bat hasn’t fallen down the stairs and broken her neck. Maybe she will one day.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mildred demanded.
“To see my girlfriend.”
“Oh, Mary’s back, huh?”
“Nah, she dumped me. Going to see Jillian.”
Mildred coughed and wheezed. “You stay away from her. I know your type. You’re trouble and she’s a good kid. Anyways, she’s got a boyfriend.”
“Mind your own business, Moldy.”
“Stay away from her,” Mildred bellowed from her doorway. She was still yelling when I reached top of the stairs leading to the third floor.
At last, Jillian’s door. I pulled the envelop from my pocket, kissed it, and slid it under her door. I almost tried the door. She said she was sick after all and I could say I wanted to make sure she was okay, but she might misunderstand. Instead I caressed the door, pretending it was her, before leaving.
I took the back stairs so I don’t have to deal with Mildred. As I walked past Mary’s door, I get a whiff of a foul odor. She should have cleaned her apartment better. Instead she whored herself out regularly at the strip club just up Jackson Avenue. My Jillian is a good girl; she won’t do anything like that.
******
“What’s this?” I picked up the pink envelop. It smelled faintly of Swisher Sweets. Someone had hand drawn a rose in pen on the flap. As I opened it, I could feel how the pen had embossed the back of the flap. The same heavy hand had written a note on the pink, bi-folded paper. It read:
Sweet lady, let me introduce myself. My name is Chad. You about ran me over earlier today. I noticed you work a lot – probably at the hospital. You always look so tired. I don’t know if you have a boyfriend. If you do, he’s a very lucky guy. If not, I hope you give me a chance to treat you like a lady.
I bit my lip as I read his phone number; the pit of my stomach dropped. Why would my stomach do that? Is that why he’s out front when I come home from work? Should I be wary of him? Part of me likes the idea someone finds me desirable even though Greg doesn’t.
A knock on my door made me jump. “Jillian Cole, are you home? It’s the police. We need to ask you about Mary Jackson.”
I pushed my wet hair back from my face and checked my t-shirt and sweatpants. The foul sickly smell became overwhelming when I opened the door. I fought the urge to throw up. “I’m Officer Decker.” He held up his badge. “Did you know Mary Jackson?”
“I know she lives on this floor. Her apartment is at the end of the hall by the fire escape. I don’t know much else.” Three men with thick blue gloves walked towards Mary’s; one had an evidence kit. Oh, wait, the officer said ‘did’ I know her. Is Mary dead?
Shouting from the direction of Mary’s apartment drew both of our attention. “I didn’t kill that slut. I didn’t do it. She broke up with me. Check with all her ‘Johns’.” A police officer escorted smoking dude, Chad, past us and down the stairs towards Mildred’s apartment. “I’m telling you, I didn’t do it.” Chad looked at me with his crystal blue eyes as he said, “I didn’t do it. They framed me.”
J K Metz 