The Playa Chronicles by Roy Glenn

other. I had to get to that state of mind, for my own peace of mind. If I didn’t, I knew I was going down. Going down slow. And for what?
    For Vanessa?
    Well now, let’s think for a minute. I don’t know anything about her, not really. I don’t know for sure where she lives. I wasn’t really sure if the she actually lived at the house that I dropped her off that first night. She never gave me a cell number. Any time I call her, no matter what time of day or night it is, the same female voice answers with that same Why-does-your-dumb-ass-keep-callin’-for?-You-should-know-she-ain’t-here voice, that always pisses me off. Why was she playing this game with me? I was keeping it real. Maybe she was being real about it from her point of view. I mean, she never gave me any indication that she had any other purpose for me other than to make her cum. And if I got mine in the process, that was all the better. Maybe I was the one who wasn’t being real with myself about it.
    I stood there, thinking about every time we’d been together, and for a while I lost myself in the rhythm of water. I really enjoyed being with her. For me it was more than just her sex, which was a formidable force to be reckoned with, to say the least. It was the way we were together. I dug talking to her. She’s funny and she can talk intelligently about anything. The few times when we did actually go somewhere, we, or I should say I, had the best time. I can only hope that she felt for me the way I felt for her. I watched the soap roll off me and I knew that wasn’t the case. I represented one thing to her. I got out of the shower, dried myself off and laid across my bed. Staring at the phone, willing it to ring, hoping it was Vanessa doing to the ringing.
    I was getting too comfortable with my depression and I could see where it was leading me. I was drinking more than I should be and not focusing on business. I wondered what it was going to take to make me see that I was traveling quickly down the wrong path, and the reason was Vanessa. I should break it off with her.
    What a concept .
    But that would be too much like right. And besides, I knew sooner or later, she would come around and we might be able to have something. Was I fooling myself into thinking that this was something more than good sex to her?
    “Yes!” I screamed out loud.
    But nobody heard me, not even myself.
    The rest of night passed without incident and I went to sleep. On the way home from work the next day, I stopped at the liquor store and picked up another bottle of Stoli . I hadn’t finished the one I had at home, but I didn’t want to run out and have to take a chance on leaving the house and missing Vanessa.
    It was getting close to eight o’clock and I realized that the only thing I’d eaten today was bag of chips. I dug up a coupon and called Pizza Hut for delivery. They told me that I could pick it up in thirty minutes, but it would be at least an hour before delivery. I didn’t care. I wasn’t leaving the house. I turned on TV, poured a drink, and watched Biography. Halfway through Investigative Reports and my third shot of Stoli , my pizza came.
    I ate a slice and took a shot. A pattern I continued until there were only two slices left. A little after eleven the phone rang. “About time.” I snatched it up on the first rang. It was Victor. He said he called because he hadn’t heard from me in about three weeks and just wanted to make sure I was all right. “Three weeks. Has it been that long?” I rushed him off the phone and I felt stupid for doing it. All this for a woman who ain’t interested. Not really. Not interested in anything other than getting tossed. “You got to pull up. Put a stop to this, one way or the other. ’Cause this ain’t it for you.” I turned off the television and began walking around the house, listing all the reasons why I should stop this madness, one more time. I knew all the reasons why I should. I could only think of one