Spider Legs
SPIDER LEGS: Part One, Chapter Two
ASTARTE
The blinking yellow sign proclaimed.
“Fancy…” I muttered, my breath coming out in clouds. My eyebrow hiked up my forehead. It didn’t seem like the place Warren could easily afford. My ID was already in my hand when I realized I didn’t need it. Warren was already outside. It was difficult for me to miss him. He was leaning sitting by the bushes that decorated the front of the bar. Although he had his head down, I could tell it was him. Everything about that crouched figure screamed ‘Warren!’ He was dressed all in black. Black jacket, black shoes, black jeans. His pale skin almost glowed in contrast to his clothes and the darkness.
“You know, I didn’t think you would come,” he said, sensing me. We’ve always been able to do that, sense each other’s presence. I guess the years had not worn that away from us. He looked up.
Warren looked like he’d just woken up, in a good way. His eyes were squinted, as though seeing the world for the first time. He had always been a handsome guy, and his drunken state had not destroyed that. Almost reflexively, my mind brought up a picture from five years ago, and compared it to the current Warren. His distinct cheekbones were still as distinct as before, his jaw had begun to develop an attractive shade of stubble. His eyes, fierce and penetrating, were just as I remember them. Even in the darkness, I could feel their intensity. He had been intentionally growing his hair longer; he must have just had it trimmed.
I merely shrugged, speechless at seeing him again after a long time. Yes, we have met a month before tonight. But that was only a passing moment. All we accomplished that time was that I gave him my number. So for me, tonight was the first time I’ve seen him in five long years.
“Can you get up?” I asked, my voice cracking at the first word.
“Yeah,” he garbled, “I think I’ve sobered up a bit while waiting for you.”
He stood up quite gracefully, and then teetered sideways. I managed to grab him around his chest and pull him upright. I felt toned muscle under my grip. I guess he’d been working out.
“Sobered up, my ass,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “All right, baby steps, let’s get you to the car.”
Apparently, baby steps in Warren’s drunken mind meant big-ass ginormous steps. Although it was a difficult thing keeping him upright with that gait, it did get us to the car faster. I strapped him in beside the driver’s seat. His eyes were sleepy slits and he was mumbling something.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, and started the engine.
“So, uh, my place is kinda full tonight. I can’t take you there,” I said as I drove. “Are you staying at a hotel, or something?”
Warren pouted as he was thinking. “Have this place. Felicity.”
“Your girlfriend’s place?” I asked.
He laughed then, a loud drunken laugh. I was afraid he’d be kicking my dashboard from his uproar.
When he calmed, he said, “Nah…nah nah nah. Hotel Felicity. You know where it is?”
If I hadn’t been consciously aware of who my companion was that very moment, I would have squealed like a girl who just got a Polly Pocket castle for Christmas.
“Hotel Felicity,” I echoed in a teeny voice, barely able to keep my calm. “Yeah, I know it. Nice place. Expensive.”
Warren merely nodded.
The last time I checked, Warren and I were of the same economic status (along the middle of middle-class and poor). So what was he doing in a five-digit rent per month apartment?
“Uhm, Warren, are you sure?” I asked tentatively.
“Mm-yep,” he said, smacking his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a keycard and showed it to me. Sure enough, on the glossy surface of the card were the stylized letters H and F. The same letters glowing right above us.
Wow…I breathed.
The blinking yellow sign proclaimed.
“Fancy…” I muttered, my breath coming out in clouds. My eyebrow hiked up my forehead. It didn’t seem like the place Warren could easily afford. My ID was already in my hand when I realized I didn’t need it. Warren was already outside. It was difficult for me to miss him. He was leaning sitting by the bushes that decorated the front of the bar. Although he had his head down, I could tell it was him. Everything about that crouched figure screamed ‘Warren!’ He was dressed all in black. Black jacket, black shoes, black jeans. His pale skin almost glowed in contrast to his clothes and the darkness.
“You know, I didn’t think you would come,” he said, sensing me. We’ve always been able to do that, sense each other’s presence. I guess the years had not worn that away from us. He looked up.
Warren looked like he’d just woken up, in a good way. His eyes were squinted, as though seeing the world for the first time. He had always been a handsome guy, and his drunken state had not destroyed that. Almost reflexively, my mind brought up a picture from five years ago, and compared it to the current Warren. His distinct cheekbones were still as distinct as before, his jaw had begun to develop an attractive shade of stubble. His eyes, fierce and penetrating, were just as I remember them. Even in the darkness, I could feel their intensity. He had been intentionally growing his hair longer; he must have just had it trimmed.
I merely shrugged, speechless at seeing him again after a long time. Yes, we have met a month before tonight. But that was only a passing moment. All we accomplished that time was that I gave him my number. So for me, tonight was the first time I’ve seen him in five long years.
“Can you get up?” I asked, my voice cracking at the first word.
“Yeah,” he garbled, “I think I’ve sobered up a bit while waiting for you.”
He stood up quite gracefully, and then teetered sideways. I managed to grab him around his chest and pull him upright. I felt toned muscle under my grip. I guess he’d been working out.
“Sobered up, my ass,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “All right, baby steps, let’s get you to the car.”
Apparently, baby steps in Warren’s drunken mind meant big-ass ginormous steps. Although it was a difficult thing keeping him upright with that gait, it did get us to the car faster. I strapped him in beside the driver’s seat. His eyes were sleepy slits and he was mumbling something.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, and started the engine.
“So, uh, my place is kinda full tonight. I can’t take you there,” I said as I drove. “Are you staying at a hotel, or something?”
Warren pouted as he was thinking. “Have this place. Felicity.”
“Your girlfriend’s place?” I asked.
He laughed then, a loud drunken laugh. I was afraid he’d be kicking my dashboard from his uproar.
When he calmed, he said, “Nah…nah nah nah. Hotel Felicity. You know where it is?”
If I hadn’t been consciously aware of who my companion was that very moment, I would have squealed like a girl who just got a Polly Pocket castle for Christmas.
“Hotel Felicity,” I echoed in a teeny voice, barely able to keep my calm. “Yeah, I know it. Nice place. Expensive.”
Warren merely nodded.
The last time I checked, Warren and I were of the same economic status (along the middle of middle-class and poor). So what was he doing in a five-digit rent per month apartment?
“Uhm, Warren, are you sure?” I asked tentatively.
“Mm-yep,” he said, smacking his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a keycard and showed it to me. Sure enough, on the glossy surface of the card were the stylized letters H and F. The same letters glowing right above us.
Wow…I breathed.