Jason Starr - Twisted City

In the hallway outside my apartment I heard rap music blasting and I smelled pot, so I figured Rebecca was having a party. She often had parties without bothering to tell me in advance, of course inviting ten or so friends over to the apartment to eat, smoke, drink, and do drugs, and they wouldn't leave until the middle of the night, or sometimes the next day. It wasn't unusual for me to encounter a few bodies sprawled on the couch or on the living room floor as I was leaving for work in the morning.

I went into the apartment, surprised to see no one around. Maybe the party hadn't started yet.

I turned down the pulsing music.

"What up, yo!" Rebecca called from the kitchen.

I left the foyer and saw Rebecca by the stove, stirring a pot of spaghetti. She looked incredible, almost elegant, in a strapless black dress, high heels, her hair up, but I promised myself that I wouldn't let anything sway me.

"I thought you'd be home later," she said. "I wanted to have everything ready. What happened to your face?"

"Tripped," I said, sick of hearing myself say it.

"Shut up! Where?"

"Outside a bank."

"What bank?"

"Chase."

"Oh, shit."

"It's all right."

"You wanna put frozen peas on it?"

"It's too late for that."

"You sure?"

"Whafre you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

I jutted my chin toward the stove.

"Oh, just cooking you up some dinner," she said. "Why don't you go chill, change into the outfit I laid out for you that sexy Johnny Blaze shirt I bought you and those tight jeans that show off your package?"

I stood there for several seconds, unable to come up with the words I wanted to say, and then I continued down the hallway.

I washed my face in the bathroom, resolving to just go out there and do it, damn it tell her she had two days to move out.

I left the bathroom, noticing that the rest of the apartment was dark.

I made my way to the dining alcove, where Rebecca was seated at the table set for two, a single candle burning in the center. She was holding a glass of wine and there was another glassful across from her.

"You didn't change," she said. Then she must've noticed my tense expression, because she said, "Come on, have some wine. The guy at the liquor store recommended it."

I didn't move.

"Are you, like, pissed at me for something?" she asked. "Because I just want you to know, I have, like, no idea what happened last night.

I remember going out with Ray and everything else is foggy. I know we met people at Chaos and I was dancing with this guy Ramon or Raul who had these really cool dreads? Last thing I remember me, Ray, and these two old guys started drinking. I mixed champagne and vodka. Stupid, right? Then I took a pill and somebody bought me more drinks and I have no idea what happened after that."

"So you really don't remember anything about last night?" I said.

"No, why?" she said. "I didn't do something bad, did I?" She tried to look worried.

"Not really," I said. "Unless you consider throwing a vase at my head bad."

"Shut up! I threw a vase at your head?"

"Only a couple of times."

"Oh, God I'm so sorry."

"You also broke everything from the fireplace mantel."

"I was wondering where everything went."

"I cleaned up the mess this morning."

"I can't believe I did that. I'm really sorry."

"It's too late for sorries. Just pack up and move out tonight."

I tried to walk away but she grabbed my arm, pleading.

"Come on," she said. "I said I'm sorry. I'll pay for everything I broke."

"Pay for it with what?" I said. "You know how much you owe me so far?

You have no intention of paying me back and you know it. Can you let go of my arm, please?"

Still holding on to me, she said, "Look, I know I'm not perfect, all right? I party too much and I go crazy with money and sometimes I, like, lose control. I admit all that, okay? But I swear I'm gonna change. I'll get a job, you can cut up my credit cards. I'll chill out on the clubbing and the partying and I'll stop buying new clothes.

I'll go to thrift shops, and no more Sephora I'll buy my makeup at Duane Reade. I won't take cabs anymore, I'll»

I freed myself and continued past her, saying, "Nothing you say is going to change my mind."

Following me, she said, "Is this because of last night? Because whatever happened, whatever I said or did, I swear to God it'll never happen again."

"It's over," I said. "Just pack your things and move out."

"What do you mean, over?" she said, as if she were hearing me for the first time.

"You have to leave," I said. "I'm sure you can stay with Ray or one of your other friends for a few nights, until you find someplace permanent."

She grabbed my arm harder this time.

"Come on, let's just chill and talk," she said.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, wriggling my arm free. "I told you from the beginning this wasn't serious, and you agreed.

Remember? You said we were just having fun."

"We were having fun," she said. "Then I fell in love with you."

I laughed, hoping she'd laugh too, but she didn't.

"Come on, you know that's ridiculous," I said. "You love my apartment and my money. You don't love me."

"You really mean that?" she said. "You really think that's, like, what kind of person I am?"

"I heard you talking to your friend Monique."

"Monique? When was I talking to Monique?"

"I don't know, couple of months ago, whenever. I heard what you said, how I'm your puppy dog, how you just want me for my apartment and money."

"I never said that."

"I know what I heard."

"I can't believe this is happening," she said, starting to cry.

"Look," I said, "I admit I was at fault here too. I know I invited you to move in with me and I started lending you money, but that's because I was in a very vulnerable position, because my sister had just died and… Look, none of that is important right now. What's important is that we both have to move on."

Rebecca was staring at me as if in disbelief, a few fake tears dripping down her cheeks.

"I can't believe that's what you really think of me," she said. "I mean, why would I, like, gold dig off you? I mean, you're just like some reporter, making forty-two a year. If I wanted to gold dig, I would've gone after a doctor or a lawyer or an investment banker somebody with real money."

"So maybe you should think about doing that," I said.

I turned around and headed back into the dining area.

"Okay, stop it!" she screamed. "Just fucking stop it!"

I looked back and saw her glaring at me with her hands over her ears, as if to block out the sound of her own screeching voice. I'd seen Rebecca lose it plenty of times, but I'd never seen her act quite like this. She seemed like she was having some kind of breakdown.

"Look," I said. "I really think we should both»

"Stop saying 'look," she said. "I hate it when you say 'look."

"Okay, I think I know what this is all about now," I said. "It's about your past, isn't it?"

"What about my past?"

"The issues you have. Your father leaving and men abandoning you and all that. I know it's not easy for you to let go, but if we both work through this together»

"You don't know me! You have no idea who I am!"

"I'm not saying I know you," I said. "I'm just saying I know what's going on inside your head. I mean, I have trouble letting go myself sometimes; that's why I think if you just move out, without making a big deal»

"There're things about me you don't know," Rebecca said. "If you knew them you wouldn't do this. You'd understand why you can't do this."

I had no idea what she was talking about. I was afraid she was going to have another fit, start throwing things at me again.