Bad Day. Started bad, stayed that way.
It was getting better. Slowly. The job was...well, awful, and what'd happened with the Femazons was embarrassing (em-bare-assing, ha, pun) as hell, but at least his...unique skills had been put to good use.
He was making decent money, slowly paying off his debts, and in time, maybe he'd be in the green, maybe he could consider finishing school, making something of himself. And he could say he did it all on his own.
That was what a man was supposed to do, after all.
He had friends. He knew, all it would take was a word to Dwayne, and he could have a nice job, a desk, doing something maybe that he was good at, that he liked. He knew his friend would do that for him. Mike Burley had even made the same offer, but Dwayne--he knew there wouldn't be groveling, he knew he'd make it easy on his pride, make him feel he'd earned it. Nita would too, a job at Oracle or her mom's new magazine (that she'd bought because of their, ahem, hijinks).
But that was a lie. It was still a handout. He could hear his dad, even: "So your friend gave you a job, did he? Because of your irresponsibility, that was the only way you could get one. Rich, a man doesn't get by, by taking handouts, he pulls himself up by his own bootstraps..."
This was horrible, but at the same time, better. He was still barely scraping by, but at least he was the one doing it.
This week had been a bad week, though tips-wise--and a bad week in general. Some moron had greased up before his act and made him slip on the floor, a bachelorette party had gotten a little too gropy for comfort--especially after the Femazon thing--and it'd pissed him off and sent him backstage, where he'd lost out on their potential tips, and he was still thoroughly embarassed, even if his...distraction had helped during the mission.
It'd been hard scraping the money together for this month's rent. That was why he was thoroughly apologetic when bringing the rent in to his tiny, bald landlord's little office in one of his other buildings.
"I'm really sorry it's late again, Mr. Horvat. It's been a rough week and I just needed a day to pull it all together..."
"What are you talkings about?"
Cue confusion. "Uh...my rent, sir."
"Your rent, it is paid."
Huh? "I haven't paid you yet this month, Mr. Horvat. I got it right here." He waved the little envelope.
"No no. Surprise. Pretty little blonde thing stop by. She is saying she pay your rent as surprise to you. She not tell you? This month you are paid--although if it had been late AGAIN, I would have been very angry. You are paying too late every month."
"Sorry, Mr. Horvat--you said it was a blonde, right?"
Ooooh. OOOOOOOOOH no she didn't.
"Yes. Pretty little blonde. That your girlfriend? You are a lucky man. My wife, she is sagging in many places."
"Yeah." There was a dark look on his face, annoyance (instead of anger) and hurt pride rolled together. "Yeah, I'm lucky."
***
He came in through the sliding glass door of her balcony, as he so often did. (There was no point in coming up through the building).
And he was mad.
Later on, he'd kick himself. Later on, he's curse at himself. Later on, he'd realize that he hadn't been so much mad at her, but at his situation, at the futility he felt, at himself, for not living up to his own expectations.
When he did what he loved, he was happy. That, and her, and his friends, were just about the only things making him happy, and as every day went on, it grated on him more and more.
He hadn't been been mad at her, but furious at himself.
Later on, he'd realize that, and be even more angry at himself for not seeing it.
But, hindsight was 20/20, after all.
"Nita!"
He was making decent money, slowly paying off his debts, and in time, maybe he'd be in the green, maybe he could consider finishing school, making something of himself. And he could say he did it all on his own.
That was what a man was supposed to do, after all.
He had friends. He knew, all it would take was a word to Dwayne, and he could have a nice job, a desk, doing something maybe that he was good at, that he liked. He knew his friend would do that for him. Mike Burley had even made the same offer, but Dwayne--he knew there wouldn't be groveling, he knew he'd make it easy on his pride, make him feel he'd earned it. Nita would too, a job at Oracle or her mom's new magazine (that she'd bought because of their, ahem, hijinks).
But that was a lie. It was still a handout. He could hear his dad, even: "So your friend gave you a job, did he? Because of your irresponsibility, that was the only way you could get one. Rich, a man doesn't get by, by taking handouts, he pulls himself up by his own bootstraps..."
This was horrible, but at the same time, better. He was still barely scraping by, but at least he was the one doing it.
This week had been a bad week, though tips-wise--and a bad week in general. Some moron had greased up before his act and made him slip on the floor, a bachelorette party had gotten a little too gropy for comfort--especially after the Femazon thing--and it'd pissed him off and sent him backstage, where he'd lost out on their potential tips, and he was still thoroughly embarassed, even if his...distraction had helped during the mission.
It'd been hard scraping the money together for this month's rent. That was why he was thoroughly apologetic when bringing the rent in to his tiny, bald landlord's little office in one of his other buildings.
"I'm really sorry it's late again, Mr. Horvat. It's been a rough week and I just needed a day to pull it all together..."
"What are you talkings about?"
Cue confusion. "Uh...my rent, sir."
"Your rent, it is paid."
Huh? "I haven't paid you yet this month, Mr. Horvat. I got it right here." He waved the little envelope.
"No no. Surprise. Pretty little blonde thing stop by. She is saying she pay your rent as surprise to you. She not tell you? This month you are paid--although if it had been late AGAIN, I would have been very angry. You are paying too late every month."
"Sorry, Mr. Horvat--you said it was a blonde, right?"
Ooooh. OOOOOOOOOH no she didn't.
"Yes. Pretty little blonde. That your girlfriend? You are a lucky man. My wife, she is sagging in many places."
"Yeah." There was a dark look on his face, annoyance (instead of anger) and hurt pride rolled together. "Yeah, I'm lucky."
***
He came in through the sliding glass door of her balcony, as he so often did. (There was no point in coming up through the building).
And he was mad.
Later on, he'd kick himself. Later on, he's curse at himself. Later on, he'd realize that he hadn't been so much mad at her, but at his situation, at the futility he felt, at himself, for not living up to his own expectations.
When he did what he loved, he was happy. That, and her, and his friends, were just about the only things making him happy, and as every day went on, it grated on him more and more.
He hadn't been been mad at her, but furious at himself.
Later on, he'd realize that, and be even more angry at himself for not seeing it.
But, hindsight was 20/20, after all.
"Nita!"