“Okay, okay,” he says. “I got it. Just wanted to be sure we were on the same page and all that,” he says.
“Okay, so are we done?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says.
“Good,” I answer.
“Unless you’re still horny,” he says. “I kind of liked you up there on the countertop.”
He’s pretty, but not too bright.
Damian lingers in the kitchen, I’m assuming, in case I change my mind and decide to wipe the floors with him. He’s going to be waiting in there for a while.
I get out to the front room and see the glare of headlights and camera lights, and I wish these people would just go home. Why are they so goddamned fascinated that they’ve got to camp out on my front…
“Damian?!” I shout.
“What?” he calls, and rushes into the living room.
What I caught out of the corner of my eye through the window wasn’t a mass of cameras and reporters; there’s a small fire burning on my front lawn.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
“It’s her,” he says. “Call the cops. I don’t know if she’s still on your property or not.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shout at him.
“I’ve never seen her,” he says, fumbling for his phone. “I don’t know if she runs off after she does what she does or if she waits somewhere nearby where she can see my reaction or what. Just call the cops.”
He hands his phone to me.
I take the phone and he runs around locking doors.
This can’t be happening.
I dial 911, although I’m really not sure whether this constitutes an emergency. Well, I guess the fire, however small, might be reason enough to send someone pretty quick.
“What is the location of your emergency?” the operator answers.
I go through and give the woman all of the information. She asks if I’ve been outside about the time Damian’s heading back to the front door, this time to unlock it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, covering the phone.
“I’m going to see if she’s still out there,” he says. “If not, I want to see what she did to your lawn.”
“Stay inside,” I tell him.
“Ma’am?” the operator asks through the phone.
“Wait for the cops. You don’t know if she’s dangerous. You don’t know what she’s capable of,” I tell him.
“Ma’am?” the operator asks again.
“Yes,” I answer, putting the phone back to my ear. “I’m sorry about that. I was just telling my boyfriend not to go out there until someone in a uniform checked it out first.”
“So the two of you are in a relationship,” the operator says.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.