"In Which Reality Involves Stalking a Greek God/Hitman"

(Pt. 1)

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"I think the very word stalking implies that you're not supposed to like it. Otherwise, it would be called 'fluffy harmless observation time'."

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Molly Harper

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September 13

4:00 PM

Downtown Square, Averill

https://youtu.be/ckiowK3y2j4

"Remind me again why we're doing this?"

Ever since Travers' big shocker this afternoon, I needed to blow off some steam.

Being holed up with two of my friends under a narrow busted-up awning, trying to escape the heavy rainfall that the weather channel failed to detect, is not what I had in mind.

Neither is the spider from one of the cobwebs by the corner that — I swear — is out to infect us with its radioactive poison.*

Yeah, I'm on to you, spider!

I send the spider another warning stare. "I get why it's just the three of us. But, what I don't get is why we"  — I gesture at ourselves — "have to suffer like this in the first place."

I rub the tender knots on my left shoulder. Just like two certain people, it was a chronic pain in the butt. More so, during the rainy days and times where I'm forced to huddle in a cramped space.

"Because" — Kiana adjusts the straps on her camera bag — "Joule had to go out of town to help out with his guncle,* while Beasty is currently dragging snowmobile tires around the school field. Also, we're their friends, and we care about them."

"You mean, if we don't, they'll relentlessly annoy us until we agree?" Tia spells out, scanning the area in front of us.

She huddles close to me, fighting off the cold creeping down her spine.

For a Brit, she gets cold easily. That, or because like me, she is aware of our creepy crawly fiend above us.

"Because, we love them," Kiana clarifies.

Tia's dark expressive eyes flicker to her. "You mean, love treating them like spoiled divas, always getting what they want, that would put Mariah Carey* to shame." 

"They don't always get what they want... sometimes," Kiana insists, though the last word sounds like she's about to cave in. 

I arch my brow. "Then, why do I feel like they have concocted an ingenious plan to manipulate us all this time?" 

"It's impossible" — Kiana shakes her head and whispers to Tia — "right?"

Despite it all, I think we've all been had — again.

"Okay, I'll rephrase my question. Would you remind me why we are friends with them?"

Kiana puffs out her cheeks in silence, her eyes wide.

"Exactly," I say, my face smug. "Don't you just get tired of the same old story? Emile and Jhett find a guy. They drool over the guy. They send one of us in the gang to either run black op* or honeypot* the guy. Then, they conveniently swoop in and challenge each other on who gets the guy. It's basically a never-ending cycle, and we're risking pneumonia or possible hypothermia for it! "

"Let's just get this over and done with," Tia the Benevolent says, fighting off another shiver.

"Yeah, quit yapping and be a good friend like Keke and Tea here," an annoying voice pops up.

Jhett.

Oops, I forgot we were on loud-speaker.

He puckers his face into a pout on the screen, reminding me of a wrinkly-faced pug being denied its high-heeled Jimmy Choo deathtraps* to chew on.

And on FaceTime, too.

"I just don't get why we're wasting our afternoon spying on a guy, just because your gaydars broke down," I say, squinting my eyes at any human-like forms of blob passing through us.

I give up. They all look the same to me.

"That guy could be my forever, Avalon. Would you want me to stay as the 'slut' forever? Would you three want that on your conscience, huh?"

This time it was Emile who pipes up.

He squishes his face next to Jhett's, trying to squeeze himself into the screen.

"Don't you dare guilt us. You chose that name, not us!" Tia fires back, pointing at them.

"I'm not making you guilty unless you're guilty in the first place. Tell me, are you guilty, Potts? Are ya?!" Emile prods, half-screeching.

Tia clenches her jaw and narrows her eyes at them.

"Hate to break it to you" —  I cut in, my head covering Tia's face — "but the only thing I'm guilty of is not giving a fuck."

"Just because someone crushed your dreams, doesn't mean mine should be too!" is Jhett's justifiable response.

I raise a brow. Well, at least he wasn't quoting a Disney princess.*

"You just saw him for a few minutes. You never even exchanged a single word with him!" 

"And, we don't even know what he looks like,"  Kiana includes, glumly wiping a wet spot on her camera bag with the sleeve of her coat.

And there lies another cause of the problem.

"Isn't a moment's dream still not a dream?" Emile defends.

"Oh" — I snort — "you'll definitely be dreaming of something else, alright. Preferably my fist down your throat." 

"You are utterly hopeless" — Tia hisses uner her breath —  "and why are we standing here, skulking at every alley under the rain,whilst the both of you are sitting pretty at the bistro and drinking hot chocolate?"

"Because he can't see me until our fated meet-cute! At least, I gave you an umbrella!" Jhett points out ike the considerate friend that he is.

Oh, hell no!

I grab the phone from Tia and give them both the stink-eye. 

"You gave us one fucking umbrella — one" — I raise my forefinger — "which you just happened to pick up from an empty table! It's pouring like crazy here, and we can't even fit under it! What's your excuse, Warren Buffet?!" 

"We're mission control, remember? Besides, if anyone can do this, it would be you three. You're so good at this."

Tia sighs in resignation. "The Judies* have a point. They would barely last a second without making a sound."

I scoff disbelievingly. "You do realize they're just bolstering our ego? It's raining, I doubt any noise would set the markoff."

Kiana makes a face. "Oh, they will."

Tia nods beside me.

"Now that you mention it, the only scene I can envision if they were in our shoes right now, is Emile and Jhett flailing their hands at every noise they make. It seems cartoony, but accurate."

"It's not our fault,we're too pretty to stand out. Now, remember" — Emile claps his hands to get our full attention — "he's wearing a white shirt and ripped jeans."

Tia takes a deep breath and holds it in."Sure, a nondescript type of clothing could really make our search easier."

"Zhu-zhush, you didn't let me finish! He's tall, has the face of a Greek god, and a body made for hot rough sex. Ooh, also his hair is in a man-bun, and he's sporting a yummy beard, that he makes Henry Cavill and Chris Hemsworth look like somebody's great uncle."

"Gee, would you like him in regular, medium, or large size with a tote bag and a red ribbon tied on top?" I ask in a deadpan voice.

Kiana snickers.

"Depends on which part of him you're referring to," he replies coyly.

I wrinkle my nose. "Have you tried Craigslist?* I swear, you're confusing reality with a mail-order male-model boyfriend from Amazon." 

It was remotely impossible that a guy like that would be caught dead here.

Still, a part of me was curious.  I mean, someone hotter than Henry Cavill? Sign me up for a stalking course! 

Out of nowhere, a silver Camry drives past the gutter.

SPLASH! It hits a giant puddle and sprays us with the filthy sewage water.

It was followed by three successive SPLASH! as three more cars pass by.

Perfect, I shake the water off my drenched jeans. I'm gonna kill 'em.

Kiana jerks me away from my murderous thoughts with a gasp. "Guys, I think I just saw him."

"Oh great, Keke's seeing things too." Tia groans, snapping her fingers in front of a starstruck Keke.

"Did the bacterial wash affect your sense of sight?" — I ask, moving in closer to inspect her eyes — "Quick, how many fingers is Tia holding?"

Kiana grabs Tia's hand and impatiently points it towards a few meters ahead of us.

"Seriously, look"  — her  short slender finger points at someone across the street — "reek god, tall and with a body made for hard rough sex! White shirt and ripped jeans! Man bun and beard! Let's go!" 

https://youtu.be/_zBwRDEFMRY

Without another word, our eagle-eyed* friend dashes out in a fast power-walk across the street, her hair flying wildly around like stringy clumps of rattails.

She looks so cute as I watch her short legs pumping underneath her baggy clothing like a corgi. However, what wasn't cute, was her taking off with the umbrella and leaving me and Tia soaking wet and under the mercy of the tempestuous wind and rain.

"You heard her. Let's go," says Tia, ending the call.

She holds my hand as we follow our little candy floss through the slick cobbled streets.

"I've got to hand it to you, Sushi. You seem unnaturally enthusiastic to do this," I comment, fighting back the rain pelting at my face.

I squint my eyes, trying to lock into our mark.

Just as we see him, white shirt and all with a jacket tied around his waist, we all stop at a fruit stand a few stores from him. 

Tia pretends to examine some fruits, while Kiana innocently looks around, still clutching the umbrella.

I take this time to scope him out, noticing a guitar case hanging on his back as he reads a newspaper from the kiosk beside him.

Damn, now those are shoulders, and that height, and that man-bun!

YUM!

Ugh, I moan tracing his muscled form with the best of my limited eyesight. I haven't seen him in HD yet, but my ovaries are having a party!

Tamieke did once make a sassy remark about how my vision magically improves when seeing someone hot.

I shake the unwanted urge to jump that fine, fine back and curl my legs around his waist ... maybe tug at his bun and let those rich blonde locks fly around him like a halo.

I don't usually go for blonde guys (no offense), but he is starting to look like an exception.

WHACK! I mentally slap myself. 

Even if the guy was hot, Emile and Jhett already called 'dibs'. In the Friendship Agreement, Article X, the power behind 'dibs' must be at all times respected. To disregard this, was punishable by law. 

The rain begins to dwindle, lazily drizzling down on every surface, in stark contrast to its bipolar onslaught.

I unlock my phone and open my FaceTime app before calling Jhett. It didn't take them more than a few seconds before their faces fill up the screen.

I unlock my phone and open my FaceTime app before calling Jhett. It didn't take them more than a few seconds before their faces filled up the screen.

"So, now what?" I ask.

"Good work, hags.* You see that guitar case?" Jhett asks.

"Uh-huh, go on," Tia waves impatiently.

"Now, there are two probabilities. Inside might be a guitar... or something else," Emile bites his forefinger.

Before I knew it, my phone was snatched from my hand and into Tia's.

"Blimey! You're telling us that, now?! What if he carries a corpse, for Christ's sake!" Tia exclaims, flailing her hands and breaking character.

Jhett turns to Emile."Well, he did look a bit dangerous." 

"You're throwing us to a possible killer, you mean?!" Tia points out vehemently.

"Contract your cervix!* No one could be a hitman and be that dangerously good-looking," Emile says in a reassuring tone.

Or not — judging from Tia's murderous look. What's the opposite of 'reassuring' again?

I begin to count off with my fingers. "Jake Gyllenhall, Ryan Reynolds, Ashton Kutcher, need I go on?"

"They're obviously TV characters, silly! And you guys thought we were bimbos!" Jhett giggles.

"Dammit, that was exactly what we were hoping for," I mutter under my breath.

Tia nods glumly.

I grunt, rubbing the bridge between my nose. "Fine, we'll stick around until he shows any sort of criminal activity. Who knows, maybe he'll pull out a silencer and take off his blonde hair to reveal his bald head."

"AAAGHHH!!!" — We cover our ears from being shattered by the high-pitched screams of homosexual horror.

"Ohh" — Tia grits out in a low silky voice—"I can't wait to get my hands on your neck"—

Tia wasn't able to finish her threat when Keke tugs us both down in a low crouch.

"He's turning around! I think he spotted us!" she whispers in panic.

I try to sneak a peek behind a basket of apples, but Kiana pulls me back.

"Hags, hags" — I hear Emile calling to us — "calm down the eff down. Remember plan B!"

"Fuck with plan B. We can just take him on!" I crack my knuckles, my body humming with anticipation.

Tia pins me with a look saying I have lost my mind. "He's got a body built like the Rock of Gibraltar."*

"So?" 

I can take bigger guys than me. #HumbleBrag.

Tia rolls her eyes. "Of course,you wouldn't care about that, but since you're not wearing your glasses, you'd be lucky if you can land a punch on him before tripping on your own feet."

I frown at her. "Gee, Tea. Thanks for the vote of confidence! It's not my fault one of my contacts fell in the sink."

It totally was.

My right eye had an irritation during Art period, and I had forgotten my comfort drops. When I tried to use mineral water for temporary relief, my contact lens popped off and dived into the bathroom sink. I had been blind ever since.  

She tilts her head to the side. "Did you remember to check the expiry date?"

"No-o-o" — now that I think about it — "I have not. I'll write it down on my planner next time."

"You don't have a planner," Tia says, deadpan.

"You guys, get a hold of yourselves"— Kiana cuts in between us, surprising the both of us —"He's on to us!" 

We all glance up.

He was already a few feet from the newsstand and walking right towards our path.

Jhett takes the phone from Emile. "Plan B, bitches!"—

Tia ends the call before he can finish.

"Screw this! Watch my phone,"I toss my phone to Tia's receiving hands. 

"Ave, no!" Tia warns, but it was too late.

I grab an apple beside me and throw it at the guy's forehead, hitting his temple with a loud THUNK!

"Alright!" That's what I'm talking about! I pump my fist in the air.

I glance at the guy, his entire body flaring with what I can assume — in my limited vision — as anger?

https://youtu.be/XlTqcshkmc8

Uh-oh!

(To Be Cont.)

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PLAYLIST

Rhythm of the Falling Rain — The Cascades

One Way or Another — Blondie

Bellbottoms — The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion 

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*[F/N]*

Radioactive Poison — refers to the radioactive spider that bit Spiderman and gave him his powers.

Guncle — (slang) a gay uncle.

Mariah Carey — a famous American singer, songwriter, and actress. She is referred to as the "Songbird Supreme" and the "Queen of Christmas", and earned herself the reputation of being the ultimate diva. 

Black Op — a secret mission or campaign carried out by a military, governmental, or other organization, typically one in which the organization conceals or denies its involvement. (In Ave's context) a fancy word for "stalking and spying".

Honeypot — (in espionage) a spy  who uses sex  to trap their target. (in Ave's context) the act of trapping someone using their assets.

Deathraps — (in Ave's context) meaning "high heels".

Didn't quote a Disney princess— refers to Ave's unexpectedly quoting Cindrella during her faceoff with Crankston.

Judies — (plural) very close gay male friends.

Craigslist — an American classified advertisements website with sections devoted to jobs, housing, for sale, items wanted, services, etc.  It has also earned a shady reputation. 

Eagle-eyed— quick to notice things; observant.

Hags — (plural; fag hag) gay slang for "women who enjoys the company of gay men."

Contract your cervix — Emile's version of "keep your panties on".

Rock of Gibraltar — (figuratively) someone or something  that looks very solid and strong and will not be destroyed.  

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Copyright © 2017 Lei André