Billionaire Beast

If I’d remembered to grab my phone, I could order pizza and Chinese food and have them come up the fire escape and deliver my sustenance through the smallish bathroom window. Yeah, I’m sure they won’t go for it at first, but I’m an excellent tipper. A pizza box wouldn’t fit through the window, but I can always have the guy pass it through piece by piece.

I could make a bed out of towels and have Mike run any personal errands that may arise.

Sure, I’ll run out of money pretty fast as I won’t really be able to work, but maybe I can have Mike bring over a laptop and try my hand at stay-at-home customer service.

For a bed, I can simply lay down some towels, making sure to double a couple up for pillows, and with the towels that are left, I can cover myself. It actually doesn’t sound half bad.

My other option is going out there.

Out there where I’ve got at least five bosses, though I’ve only ever met four, who each make my life unbearable in their own special way.

Just outside this door, I’ve got a roommate that still bugs the hell out of me, who I pretty obviously came onto just before his mostly naked sex buddy popped her cooch out of his room in a pretty literal sense.

I’m in the bathroom for half an hour.

By now, as I haven’t had the shower running, I have yet another reason not to go out there. Now, not only am I the drunk chick who makes inappropriate advances on her womanizing roommate, but I can only imagine what he thinks I’m doing in here.

There’s a knock on the door about 10 minutes later.

“Hey, you all right in there?”

“Just taking a bath!” I call back.

I know that we don’t have a tub. We have a stand-up shower.

“Oh,” he says.

It’s an excruciating amount of time before he says anything else.

“Okay.”

Maybe if I don’t flush when I come out, he’ll know that I wasn’t in here doing unspeakable things. Of course, that’ll only work if he’s standing near the door when I do flush. Otherwise, he’s just going to assume that I did, and when the hell did I become so damn neurotic?

I flush the toilet.

I have no idea why I flush the toilet.

Is it better for your roommate to think that you just spent half an hour in the bathroom doing… that, or for him to walk in and find an unflushed toilet with pee in it?

Am I the only woman who thinks about these things?

Oh well, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter anymore, and all I can really do is take a breath and hope for the best.

When I come out of the bathroom, I don’t see Dane.

Maybe he’s in his room, maybe he left. Regardless, I think it’s pretty clear he was out of flush-hearing range.

I really need to get out more.

I’m almost back to my room when I hear him. I can hear his voice through his door.

At first, I start to think that his little biscuit is in there with him, but he’s responding to an inaudible second party.

I press my ear against the door the moment I hear my name.

“…kind of weird. I mean, last night, she was coming onto me and today, I don’t even know where to start.”

Great. This is just great.