Page 78 of Burn Bag
“No, it’s not!” he shouted. “You pick up the phone and make an appointment! Job done!”
Eli chuckled, slapping us both on the back. “See? What did I tell you?”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Bradley argued. “It’s one example.”
“Sure, and you went from arguing about being fat and eating donuts to mental issues.”
“Fine, what if I only wanted to do humanitarian work?”
“And not get paid?” Bradley scoffed. “What’s the fucking point?”
“To help others!”
“Help others by letting them get off their asses and get a fucking job!”
I gasped in shock at his answer—not that I entirely disagreed with him, but there were circumstances that called for help, and he was brushing that all aside.
“I think we all get the point—” Eli started, but I interrupted him.
“What if I cut off all my hair?”
“I’d tell you to grow it back.”
“What if I wanted to decorate the house in all orange and yellow?”
He barked out a laugh. “Over my dead body!”
“What if I told you that N’Sync was the best band ever created?”
“I’d say I have to divorce you right fucking now!”
Eli chuckled again. “See? Honesty is not the best policy. Aren’t you glad we worked this out?”
He walked away, leaving me with Bradley and fuming. I couldn’t believe I’d married a man with so few principles. Or maybe too many principles? I wasn’t entirely sure. But one thing was clear, this marriage was off to a rocky start.
As we droveto the “drop zone,” as Bradley called it, I cooled my heels in the back, trying not to let our fight get to me. This was normal, right? Fighting was part of any relationship. Granted, most people didn’t fight within the first few days of knowing each other, but we were on a learning curve.
“All we’re doing is facilitating the drop. We have nothing to do with the actual exchange,” Eli said, making it clear no one was to get involved with the deal.
“Roger that,” Bradley answered.
I rolled my eyes, mouthingRoger thatjust because I was pissed at him. I wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t like I actually thought N’Sync was the best band ever or that I wanted to decorate the house yellow and orange. But the audacity of him being so demanding really got to me.
We pulled to a stop and Bradley turned to me, waiting for me to look at him. “Stay here. There’s nothing you need to do.”
“Can I get out and stretch? Or is that asking too much?”
Yes, my attitude was shitty. Yes, I was doing it just to piss him off. Just hours ago, I was terrified for him, worried that my cats had destroyed his tiny penis. Now, I hoped one of the cats bit it off.
“Yes, you can get out, but stick close to the vehicle.”
I was about to mock him, but decided against it. Maybe I just needed some coffee or a danish. Of course, then I might get fat and he would divorce me.
As I got out, the guys started unloading the crates from the back of the vehicle. The poor cats were starting to pace the cages, eager to get out and roam free. I felt so bad for them and desperately hoped they were going to a loving home.
“Hey, guys,” I smiled, bending down to talk to them and hopefully keep them calm. “You’re going to be so happy in your new home. I’m sure you’ll have lots of room to roam free and catch mice.”
The little guy that I’d made friends with purred as he brushed himself against the cage.
