Monkey Business

russ almost blows his cover

7:30 p.m.

Oh, man. She’s late. Why is she late? Better question, why is she still coming? My television is on channel 2, the door channel. I’m watching for her arrival. I can’t believe I didn’t tell her not to come. I should have insisted on buying a plane ticket and going home for the weekend, instead of putting Kimmy through this.

Nick hurries into the foyer. Then he searches his pocket for the key, drops it, picks it up and goes inside. Bastard is still tanned from Australia. Maybe he’s fake tanning.

On Monday I thought I was getting out of it. Sharon called me with the flu. I recommended she stay home and get better. I’d even come to see her. She said, no way. She’d get better.

She got better.

I open my food drawer to see if there’s anything worth eating. I’ve already finished a bag of chips and a liter of warm Pepsi that was stashed under my bed.

I was hoping that Kimmy would take off for the weekend. Meeting up in the bathroom might be mildly uncomfortable. Though meeting up in my room could be fun, the three of us rolling around on my skinny bed.

Yeah, right.

Maybe I should break up with Sharon. Maybe I should break up with Kimmy.

Maybe I should make a goddamn decision.

I pace the length of my room. It’s not long enough for a good pace. I’d like to pace the hallway, but Sharon needs to buzz from downstairs to get in. I’ve been stuck in this room for an hour. I have to take a piss.

Kimmy is in the foyer. Her hair is shining, and she’s about to unlock the door, when someone enters, rolling a suitcase.

Sharon.

Shit.

Kimmy turns around and stares. Does she know? Sharon’s lips are moving. She seems to be asking Kimmy a question. Kimmy nods and says something back. I think I’m going to hurl. What are they saying? It’s V-Day, not D-Day!

Kimmy unlocks the door, and Sharon follows her inside.

What do I do?

I pick at my face.

Knock, knock.

I am not opening that door. What if Kimmy spilled the beans? And now they’re both standing there waiting to roast me?

“One sec,” I say, and I open it.

It’s Sharon. Just Sharon. No one else in sight. She’s smiling, her hair moist from melting snowflakes, and she looks beautiful. I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me. She smells like home. Actually she smells like airplane. In mid-hug I twirl her around to scan the room to insure that everything is presentable. Bed made. Drawers closed. No boxers on the floor. No condoms, God forbid. I kick the door closed. We’re kissing, more kissing, it’s her, here, she tastes perfect, her shirt is off, my shirt is off, our pants are off.

Now the floor is a mess.

And we’re on the bed, me on top, and then I’m inside her and we’re making love, fast, it’s been over a month. For her, anyway.

“Do you want to come now?” I ask.

“Later. Don’t worry. Go ahead, come now, it’s okay, I figured we should get the first time out of the way, since it’s been so long for you.”

Probably not the best time to tell her I had sex less than twenty-four hours ago with the woman she just met downstairs. Now that was wild sex. Kimmy was on top but facing my feet. I came in about five seconds. Stop imagining sex with Kimmy. Stop. Can’t. I come, and hold Sharon tightly. “Well,” I say. I run my fingers over her earlobe. “Nice to see you.”

She wiggles to get comfortable beside me. “Not much room in here, is there?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” I’m about to add, you get used to it, but I catch myself in time.

“I can’t believe I almost didn’t make it because of the flu. It was so gross. I was puking all over the place.”

Now there’s an image I’d rather forget. “But you’re here,” I say. “You made it.”

“Made it.”

“Made it straight to my room. Um…how did you find my room, anyway?”

She runs her fingers through my hair. “A girl in the foyer offered to show me the way. She knew you, actually. When I told her who I was looking for, she said that I must be Sharon. You must talk about me a lot, huh?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

D-Day diverted.