Sequel: Postcards From... ›
Status: Re-written
The Club Is Open Until 8:00Pm
Vingt Deux
I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, the cool air hitting my bare legs like a wave of ocean water. I surveyed the contents and finally picked what I wanted to eat. A piece of cake from my birthday and a Canada Dry soda.
I walked back into the living room and plopped down in Steve’s good reading chair. I was watching t.v. which I was suppose to do on the couch. Steve’s chair was for Steve only with the exception of Monet I added when he wasn’t around.
I was watching That’s 70s Show. Imogene’s favorite episode where Kelso’s going on about a Russian death laser being pointed at the white house. Right about the time everyone’s freaking out cause Kelso gave his address to the Secret Service, the phone next to the chair started ringing. I picked it up and before I could say something, or nothing, they asked for Joanne.
I held the phone away from my ear. “Phone!” I called missing what Fiz said. Joanne walked in and grabbed the phone from me. The lady on the other end said something and Joanne looked at me. “Monet, why don’t you go upstairs to your room. She said with a hand over the speaker. I sighed, turning off the t.v. and going up to my room.
Once there, I found tutu out crawling about on the floor near my computer desk. “What are you doing out?” I asked picking him up and leveling his face with mine. He slowly nodded to my question. Like that tells me.” I walked him back to his bowl.
Suddenly a patch of my shirt club to my stomach. What the! My shirt was wet were I was carrying the turtle. That’s just gross. I peeled off the shirt and grabbed a H.I.M tee and gave Tutu a dirty look. He turned around and slowly crawled away from me.
Supper was called, and I beat Andy down the stairs. I was surprised how hungry I actually was cause I eat like six times a day. I sat down at the table, Joanne and Steve kept themselves in the kitchen. Finally Joanne placed a plate in front off me and you couldn’t count the seconds before I dug in. The only think I didn’t help myself to was the rice cause I don’t like rice.
Joanne took a sip of the wine she and Steve were sharing. She cleared her throat which usually meant she was about to ask something to someone. “So how’s Imogene doing these days? I haven’t seen her in awhile.” Questioning me as usual. “Fine. She has a new boyfriend and their happy.” She nodded. “That’s good. Did he go to the concert with you?” I stopped eating and looked at her. For a minute we were the only ones at the table.
“You know about the concert?"
A nod.
"Who told you?"
"Who do you think."
Silence.
"Your singer friend."
I drew my hands into my lap.
"Joanne." Steve said.
"I hope that concert was worth 2 months allowance and phone privileges."
"But..."
"No buts. I mean what I said."
I glanced at Steve. Someone has to be on my side, I'm no good at sticking up for myself. He wasn't faltering, but just sitting there with his eyes closed and holding the glass of wine to his lips but not drinking. I rolled my eyes and pushed my plate away and left the table. I went to my room and slammed the door shut. My Miranda Lambert poster was slowly peeling away from the wall.
I walked back into the living room and plopped down in Steve’s good reading chair. I was watching t.v. which I was suppose to do on the couch. Steve’s chair was for Steve only with the exception of Monet I added when he wasn’t around.
I was watching That’s 70s Show. Imogene’s favorite episode where Kelso’s going on about a Russian death laser being pointed at the white house. Right about the time everyone’s freaking out cause Kelso gave his address to the Secret Service, the phone next to the chair started ringing. I picked it up and before I could say something, or nothing, they asked for Joanne.
I held the phone away from my ear. “Phone!” I called missing what Fiz said. Joanne walked in and grabbed the phone from me. The lady on the other end said something and Joanne looked at me. “Monet, why don’t you go upstairs to your room. She said with a hand over the speaker. I sighed, turning off the t.v. and going up to my room.
Once there, I found tutu out crawling about on the floor near my computer desk. “What are you doing out?” I asked picking him up and leveling his face with mine. He slowly nodded to my question. Like that tells me.” I walked him back to his bowl.
Suddenly a patch of my shirt club to my stomach. What the! My shirt was wet were I was carrying the turtle. That’s just gross. I peeled off the shirt and grabbed a H.I.M tee and gave Tutu a dirty look. He turned around and slowly crawled away from me.
Supper was called, and I beat Andy down the stairs. I was surprised how hungry I actually was cause I eat like six times a day. I sat down at the table, Joanne and Steve kept themselves in the kitchen. Finally Joanne placed a plate in front off me and you couldn’t count the seconds before I dug in. The only think I didn’t help myself to was the rice cause I don’t like rice.
Joanne took a sip of the wine she and Steve were sharing. She cleared her throat which usually meant she was about to ask something to someone. “So how’s Imogene doing these days? I haven’t seen her in awhile.” Questioning me as usual. “Fine. She has a new boyfriend and their happy.” She nodded. “That’s good. Did he go to the concert with you?” I stopped eating and looked at her. For a minute we were the only ones at the table.
“You know about the concert?"
A nod.
"Who told you?"
"Who do you think."
Silence.
"Your singer friend."
I drew my hands into my lap.
"Joanne." Steve said.
"I hope that concert was worth 2 months allowance and phone privileges."
"But..."
"No buts. I mean what I said."
I glanced at Steve. Someone has to be on my side, I'm no good at sticking up for myself. He wasn't faltering, but just sitting there with his eyes closed and holding the glass of wine to his lips but not drinking. I rolled my eyes and pushed my plate away and left the table. I went to my room and slammed the door shut. My Miranda Lambert poster was slowly peeling away from the wall.
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