Page 61 of Cruel Debts
"Right, yeah, get your nut, I suppose, then get to work." I laughed, the menacing kind that made me appear so dangerous to people who'd never met me before, or who didn't know the man behind the mask. "And tell my boss's pussy I said hello."
I hung up on him before he could start to cuss me out.
TWENTY-SIX
??????
It was a nice,sunny day today. The kind of day that made a person sit up and smell the roses, really deep, as they walked to work.
I was one such person.
Miss Everett always planted these huge, hulking roses in her front planter, gargantuan climbing roses that were far too big for the space. As a result, they crept halfway up the wall of our building, and she and the landlord always fought every blooming season about how she needed to ditch them or tear them down. She'd argue, he'd threaten, and then nothing would happen.
Mostly because I enjoyed them so much, I paid him extra every month that they were in bloom to let her keep them.
I stopped, like I did every morning, to grab a cup of joe from the local cafe, though they never made it strong enough for me. I didn't know how I knew that, but I knew it just like I knew my name.
Johnny.
My name was Johnny.
The girl behind the counter today was new, a young, smiling thing with perfect teeth, pale blonde hair, and a sassy tilt to her head that reminded me vaguely of someone I'd forgotten. I metso many people at my job, though, that it was definitely possible I'd seen her before and just couldn't place her.
"Hi there! What can I get for you today?" Her voice was high-pitched, in an annoying way. Even pretty people had a flaw. You might not see it at first, but if you dug deep enough, you could find something wrong with anyone, really.
I laid a ten on the counter and smiled back, hoping to speed up this interaction. "I'll take a tall Americano, double shot of espresso, please, with a chocolate chip muffin."
"Can I get a name for the order?" She held up a cup with a permanent marker, and I opened my mouth to tell her, when my brain stopped short, and nothing came out.
Johnny. Your name is Johnny.
"Ah, just put Johnny on there," I said with a wince, after a few seconds of pure confusion brooded in her eyes. What kind of a man didn't know his own name?
The kind with memory issues, apparently.
"Ah, sure," she said with a chuckle, and she set to scribbling on the cheap styrofoam before turning away to start the drink.
I waited for a minute, then two, then three, and finally, I was the only order left. I watched her and the other girl remake my drink as I watched, and then she called out?—
"Johnny?"
I blinked.Johnny? Who's Johnny?
"Sir?"
I blinked again. "Oh, right, sorry." I was Johnny. Jesus, this shit was getting worse every day. "Distracted."
"Haha, sure," she said, handing the bag with the pastry in it over the counter, then my drink. "Have a nice day!"
It couldn't get any worse, that was for sure.
I had to call my doctor. This shit was getting ridiculous.
For the last week or two, ever since I fell at work, my memory had gone to shit. I was forgetting things like the passcode to thebuilding. The combination to my foot locker in my closet. My name, apparently, in a strange turn of events.
I couldn't let it get any worse. It was scary enough as it was.
The walk to work was longer today than it should have been, probably because I had to take a detour thanks to construction. These fuckers closed up an entire sidewalk just to peel paint off the side of a brick wall and repaint it. They'd been at it forweeks.Hell, I knew some guys who could do work like that in their sleep, overnight, and have it brand new the next morning?—
