Page 9 of Puck with Karma
I get close enough to the door, when I notice movement from the other side. The glass panel on the top half only shows me a full head of very blonde hair. Muttering a cuss under my breath, I push the door open, ready to deal with whoever is on the other side.
It’s hard to tell who is more surprised when we come face to face. The head of blonde hair I noticed before is attached to a female body that causes some instant movement in my shorts. I am about to smile when she crashes into the wall that’s next to the door.
“Oh my god,” she mumbles as she slides to the floor.
“Are you okay?”
I look down in amusement, but it all fades into nothingness when I notice that she has a phone pointed right at me.
“What the fuck?” I bend down to snatch it out of her hand. “You people really stoop to the lowest of the lows!”
Turning the phone over, I get confirmation that the camera is indeed on. I’ve been chased by the media before, but this is the first time they managed to get inside the building like this.
Before I have more time to think about it, I lift my arm up high, then bring it down and forcefully slam the phone against the concrete wall, making sure the screen breaks and now the phone is off.
“Oh my god,” the girl repeats over and over. Her hands are pressed to her chest, and her eyes look way too big in her doll like face.
“You fuck with me, I fuck with you.” I point at her. “Don’t fuckin’ test me.”
“You’re crazy,” she gasps in distress. “I need to call the police. I can’t believe you broke my phone.”
“I can’t believe you broke into my building and had the nerve to chase me down just to take some lame pictures,” I deadpan.
My words seem to confuse her even more. She shakes her head a couple of times, then finally gets up from the floor, her back still against the wall as she comes up, one inch at a time. By the time she is at full height, my breath hitches in the back of my throat.
“Who are you?” she whispers.
I want to laugh at the games she wants to play. But I am way too taken with how beautiful she looks. Her eyes are this amazing turquoise blue color. They hypnotize me, and I don’t even remember why I am angry with her.
“Why would I want to take pictures of the building manager?” she continues. “Should I? For security purposes maybe?”
The more she talks, the more confused she sounds.
“Building manager?” I snort and roll my eyes. “Nice try.”
Just then, my eyes fall to my hands. They are full of grease, and so is the front of the white t-shirt I have on. I reach into my pocket for the keycard that opens the door to the gym area. I yank the door open and rush inside, not stopping until I am in front of a mirror.
“What the fuck,” I burst into violent laughter, and I can’t stop. My face is covered in dark grease, and so is part of my hair. I laugh harder yet when I realize it must be from that handle I ripped off the treadmill.
“Hey,” a soft and worried voice calls from behind. “Are you okay?”
I point at my face. “Is this why you thought I was the building manager?”
“I… yes,” she admits. Her eyes look worried, and I can almost see the wheels moving in her head. She’s not sure if she should take off running or make sure I am okay before she takes off running.
“Why were you taking pictures?” I question her.
Her shoulders go back defensively. Her small chest pushes forward, making me smile. It is as if she is preparing for battle.
“I was not taking pictures.”
“You had the phone pointed right at me,” I throw my arms out wide in frustration.
“I was on a video call with my two best friends,” she explains calmly. “I just moved into the building, and I was showing them around. They are probably on the phone with the police as we speak since you scared us all to death.”
Her voice shakes more toward the end despite the fact that she is trying to project a stronger image. And now I feel like shit.
“Fuck,” I sigh and scrub my face with my hands.
