This wasn’t right. He didn’t know what day it was, or how he’d gotten here. Gray sweatpants rested on the sofa next to him, and he put them on after shaking them over the floor, to make sure no bugs hid between the folds of fabric.
Maybe he’d consumed some hallucinogenic drugs by accident?
The dark form of a smartphone resting next to a butt-shaped dip in the seat drew him in, and he picked it up, swiping his thumb across the cracked screen. The phone asked for his PIN, so he entered it, but the damn thing claimed it was incorrect.
Of course. Because it wasn’t his phone. His was a brand new iPhone in a wooden case while the piece of junk in his hand didn’t even have a logo anywhere.
Caspian’s stomach growled, distracting him from the task at hand, and all of a sudden, he was not only still horny, but also ravenous.
His gaze swiped across the messy kitchen counter, but while there were no roaches in sight, he was barefoot. What if he stepped on one, and it wiggled under his sole? Or worse yet, what if its exoskeleton broke under his weight, and he’d end up covered with not only its juices, but also the eggs it carried?
Revulsion shook Caspian’s entire body, but his stomach twisted again, and his brain buzzed with annoyance as he caught sight of an open cupboard and the bread stashed inside.
He hated white bread and its bland cotton-like flavor, but in this moment he’d gladly drench all the slices within sight with bacon grease, and then douse his thirst with a protein shake.
A ball of white fluff leapt between the crumpled paper bags on the counter and opened its flat face in a wild meow.
It seemed Fluffer hated roaches as much as Caspian and—
Caspian scowled. Who named their cat after sex workers preparing porn actors for a scene? Had names like Fluffy or Snowflake been taken?
The cat meowed again, then got down to the floor and circled its empty bowl before releasing a brutal sneeze that sprayed snot over the steel trash can next to his food. Caspian stilled, wondering where he could find some tissues, because yet more of the clear goo glistened under the pet’s nose.
“I’m hungry too. I’ll be with you in a sec,” Caspian said. His voice was… sexy. He could work as a fucking sex phone operator with a voice this raspy and low, so unlike the sounds his own body produced.
But before he could have devised a strategy of protecting himself from roaches, someone banged on the door, making him still. Maybe the girl was back in an even more revealing outfit? Caspian was fine giving her Russo’s money as long as she agreed to make him some food.
After a brief scan of the floor, he found it bug-free and strode to the door held shut by the kind of flimsy lock a petty criminal could have opened with a credit card.
A bit of plywood fell to the floor as he tugged on the handle, but it wasn’t his shitty trailer, so he ignored it and stuck his head out into the sun.
The air smelled of eggs, bacon, and gasoline, but as he set his bare feet in the sparse grass outside, a large silhouette in a brown suit caught his eye. A man in his early fifties, with a pot belly stretching the front of his striped shirt, stepped closer, combing back his graying hair over and over, as if he couldn’t get a leaf out of the short strands.
“Russo! How are you this fine morning?” the stranger asked, pulling close a folder, which crooked his tie to one side. The pale stubble peppered over the man’s cheeks made the pinkness of his skin appear brighter, and his eyes wouldn’t stop darting around, as if he’d drank several cups of coffee since he’d rolled out of bed.
“Good morning,” Caspian said, unsure how he should act. This stranger had come here for a reason, but his appearance revealed few clues as to his identity. The man straightened up, as if surprised by Caspian’s mundane answer.
“I’m happy to hear that. Let’s make this quick then.” He smiled and held out his hand.
Caspian squeezed it in greeting, but it earned him a frown.
“Russo. Stop fucking with me. I don’t have time for this. Give me the money, and I’ll be out of your hair. Surely, you don’t want any trouble.”
Money?
Was this scruffy guy some kind of debt-collector?
Caspian’s stomach rumbled. “Oh… was it today? I must have confused the dates. I’m sorry,” he said, because at this point he didn’t know where Gunner’s wallet was, and if he lived with a money sponge like that girlfriend of Gunner’s, he’d have hidden a large sum where she wouldn’t find it. Even a meathead would have taken precautions against robbery.