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So Amazing, So Crazy

When you fall in love in the Gutter, there's no limit to how far you can fall.

So Amazing, So Crazy by Allen Griffin

Cameron turned off the radio but kept the car’s engine running. He watched little crystalline flakes of snow drift to the ground and let his mind continue to ask ‘what am I doing here?’

Monica had been inside nearly thirty minutes and he watched his phone for a text, letting him know she was still ok. He was into her, admitted as much to himself early last week sitting outside another john’s house. The jealousy made him crazy.

All these guys lived in mini-mansions, owned top-of-the-line cars, more money than they knew what to do with. They got to touch her, kiss things he didn’t even dare dream about.

Thirty-three minutes and no text yet. Monica never sent a text late, although they’d only been doing this together a few weeks. She talked him into it the first time because she needed fast money to pay her rent and promised to break him off a little cash to be her driver and de facto bodyguard. He hadn’t felt strongly about her yet, not like he does now, so he went along with it. In retrospect, he should’ve just given her the money. Yesterday, when he hinted that if she needed more cash, he could help her out, she told him to forget about it.

Strong. Independent. He liked that about her.

Thirty-seven minutes. Cameron’s nervousness mingled with his jealousy. He felt a rising tide of hostility coming over him. It would only take a minute for the rich asshole, the john, to do some sort of permanent damage, to kill her even. And here he was, just sitting in his car doing nothing; he’d never forgive himself.

Cameron reached beneath his seat, pulled out his chrome-plated 9mm and headed toward the house, almost like he knew what he was doing. He listened a moment and, hearing nothing, tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. Monica said she always told the clients to keep the door unlocked, for her safety. Cameron let himself in.

He’d had the gun for years, not sure if he really knew how to use it. He held it up at eye level and moved through the large house like a cop on a TV show. He headed straight upstairs, assuming they would be in the bedroom. He found what surely must’ve been the master bedroom and slipped into the darkness. All was silent. Cameron prayed he wasn’t too late. There was a body lying still on the bed.

He could hardly breathe, walking slowly toward the king size. The sheets were white, but even Cameron could see the blood stain spreading out like a rising tide. But the body, it was too big to be Monica.

“Help…” the john moaned. Cameron was so startled by the sound he accidentally pulled the 9’s hair trigger as he jumped back. The bullet caught the man between the shoulder blades and a new spring of blood began to feed into the flood beneath.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Monica appeared illuminated in another door off to the side of the bed, probably the master bath. “Put that fucking thing away before you shoot one of us.”

She disappeared again into the bathroom. Cameron followed her in and saw a little switchblade sitting in a sink full of water. She was stuffing cash into her bag full of lingerie. She was naked.

“Sorry, too good of a score to pass up.” She looked up at him for a minute, trying to gauge his reaction. “Seriously, it happens sometimes, it ain’t that deep.”

Cameron was speechless.

He didn’t even remember getting back in the car. They might have gone through the house, searching for anything else, small but expensive things worth taking, but maybe he just imagined that part.

The steady pulse of passing streetlights seemed to calm him though, gave him his voice back. “Look,” he stammered, “I told you if you need money, I got you. We can go back to my house, I’m completely unbanked, I can just hook you up and you can leave all this behind.”

She sized him up for a minute, a sly smile spreading across her red lips, and then she said, “If that’s the case, why did you agree to let me bring you on as my driver, if you didn’t need the money I mean?”

“I just wanted to be with you, I thought it would give us a chance to spend time together.”
It wasn’t entirely true. At first, it was more of a thrill thing, he didn’t expect her to be her, to be so amazing, so crazy.

Allen Griffin is a writer and musician living in Indianapolis. His work has appeared in several cool places including the Surreal Worlds anthology from Bizarro Pulp Press and the Ominous Realities and Splatterlands anthologies from Grey Matter Press. He has also published two chapbooks with Dunhams Manor Press, No Such Heaven and The Noxious Winds of Karmageddon. He reviews books and music in various places around the web.