I pressed the end key on my cell phone and stared at it in disbelief. Great, I thought to myself. Why the hell did she cancel on me at the last minute? For a moment, I lost my train of thought. Stranded by the butcher’s counter, I looked around the store and noticed others shopping with a purpose and realized my reason to be here vanished with one abrupt phone call.
Bitch was a word that played over again in my head. This chick is playing games with me and I am letting her. Dammit. I am an ass. I should have booked another date, just in case.
The thought of removing Jen’s dress in front of the fireplace to kiss her small, firm breasts flashed across my mind. I let out a sigh so loud that the man behind the butcher’s counter looked at me strangely.
All my friends had packed up their gear and headed for Vermont to ski, drink and screw. Shit, I thought, what the heck am I going to do all weekend now? I understood Jen needed to do some work once we arrived in Vermont, but she promised me she would come. I had wasted lots of wining and dining time on this girl. I wanted to have her this weekend.
My good friend and business partner Rick felt differently. His words played on my mind “You are being played, Steve, forget waiting for her and come to Vermont. No one likes her anyway. Leave with us.” Bastard was right. However, when I though her her long, lean legs, her athletic body and blonde hair, nothing else seemed to matter to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a woman in the soup aisle. Pushing my cart past the “London broil: Buy one, get one free display, allowed me to take a closer look at the beauty in Aisle 9. Petit, dark, full-figured. So unlike my taste for the tall, lean blondes. But, something about her was so appealing. She almost appeared to be glowing.
She stood there examining the Ramon noodles. I grunted to myself as I heard a Rolling Stones tune reduced to a cheap elevator song blurting out over the supermarket speakers. Still being dressed in my business attire would probably prohibit my chances with a natural-looking jeans-wearing girl. I looked like a geek from a computer shop. I thought of removing my glasses but was afraid I would not be able to see her after they were off. She was a distance from me.
After watching her intently for a few seconds, I decided it was now or never. I slowly made my way down the aisle towards her. When I plotted my big move, I saw her stuff two packages of Ramon noodles into her long coat. Do people still shoplift? And why Ramon noodles? Jeez, they must break up being pushed down inside of her coat like that. Endless questions raced through my mind.
Hell, if I were going to steal something, it would be that hot 911 Porsche parked outside. But, I already owned it. Yeah, I was doing well for myself. Nice condo off the waterfront in Newburgh, NY, a hot car and a great job. What more could a 30 year-old coffee trader need?
The last thing I needed in my life is a dark, voluptuous, noodle-stealing girl I could screw all night long. As I stared, two cans of Progresso soup made their way into her pockets. At least her taste in cuisine was starting to improve. I smirked. She didn’t look destitute. Is this how she got her kicks on a Friday night? I heard of people like that. That Hollywood star had that disease.
The absurdity of the situation struck my funny bone and I laughed out loud. Out of her peripheral vision, she spotted me and slowly started to walk in the opposite direction. Not so fast, missy, I thought. I had to follow her. Halfway down the aisle, I picked up my pace because she was heading towards the exit. I saw the security guards grab her. They pulled the goods from her pockets and the older of the guards held her arm tightly.
“Honey,” I yelled to her. All three of them turned to me, “Baby, did you get the Ramon noodles and my favorite soup?” I smiled,” I sure hope you picked my best flavors.” I smiled at the security guards, and then produced an angry frown.
I looked at the older of the two security guards, squinted my eyes and said, And, sir, may I ask why you have your hands on my girlfriend?”
Frowning, the guard released his hands from her. She stood with a puzzled look on her face. She was beautiful. A strong jaw, high cheekbones and a hint of naughty gleamed out from her hazel eyes.
The older guard moved close to me, “Buddy, are you trying to say that Miss Soup USA over here is with you?”
I smiled and moved in closer to him. He was clearly uncomfortable that I had invaded his personal space. I allowed my large 6 3” frame to tower over his smaller statue, so there was no misunderstanding as to whom was in control of the situation.
“Sir,” I smiled, “my girl and I were shopping. I was being the usual ass that I can be when we are in the grocery store. We argued and by error she put what she was supposed to put into my cart,” I pointed down the aisle to my wagon, “into her pockets. I am hoping you gentlemen will be so kind as to see that this is a misunderstanding, let me pay for the soups and we will go on our way.”
The two guards whispered to one another for a few moments. I smiled at the girl but her face held no expression. Damn, she was pretty. I could not stop looking at her.
“Ok, Sir,” the older guard said,” We can understand how something like this can happen. Please keep your goods in the cart. Deal?”
“You got it, Sir,” I smiled. He handed me the noodles and soup. I grabbed her arm and walked her to my wagon.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” she blurted out at me.
“I am saving your ass form going to jail.” I whispered.
“And, why would you want to do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I have absolutely nothing else to do on a Friday night,” I said, smiling at her.
Her face projected anger making her even more beautiful. I could see she was contemplating over whether or not I had an ulterior motive here. I put on my puppy dog face trying to assure her I did not, but I certainly did. I could not help myself. The closer I stood to her, the more her smell intoxicated me.
I imagined pulling on her dark hair, forcing her lips to mine. They would be soft and inviting. She would moan under my touch. I would know she wanted me.
She let out a sigh and scurried down the aisle.
“Hey,” I pleaded, “I would like to buy these for you.”
“I don’t want it,” she yelled back.
“Wait a minute!” I yelled.
She moved out of the exit door faster than I expected. The old security guard grimaced at me as he witnessed my chase.
Quickly, she moved behind the store, down the alley. I had to break into a full run to get closer to her. What the hell am I doing, I thought. Slipping on ice and snow, I continued to stay in pursuit. I was gaining on her.
“Please, I just want to talk with you,” I begged as I was close to enough to grab onto her coat.
With the full force of her body, she pushed back on me. Slipping on ice, I lost my balance and tumbled to the wet, muddy cement. I stood up, brushed the ice and wetness from my hands and saw her disappear into the last door on the right.
That was one strong girl or I have become a clumsy ox. This only increased my desire to know more. I walked past the Chinese restaurant and to the last door.
Much to my surprise, I saw it had two metal bars bolted across it. I walked back to the previous door and looked into the Chinese restaurant. She was not in there. I moved back the bolted door. I saw her go in here. I jiggled on the doorknob. It was locked.
Puzzled, I stood before the door and wondered how the hell she got inside of it. I banged loudly, “Miss, you in there?” Did I just say miss? Oh jeez.
I stood before the impassable door for close to twenty minutes trying to figure how she got inside of it. I hated unsolved puzzles. I needed to know. I kicked at the door in frustration.
That night I lay awake in bed unable to shake her imagine from my thoughts. I squeezed my eyes shut but she was still there.
By 2 a.m., I found myself back at that damn door. I kicked on it as the wind ripped at my cheeks. “Dammit,” I yelled, “I know you are in there. Let me in!” I screamed.
I turned my back to the wind and lifted the collar of my peacoat. Looking back to the door, I yelped. There she stood. Her skin white was white porcelain. I tried to speak but was unable to mutter a single word. Her lips pressed against mine. I felt the heat rising from my groin to my head. I felt dizzy and confused. I pressed my body to hers. She was cold. So cold but I could not pull from her. I didn’t want to. Her full breasts pressed against my chest. I moved my hands to her hair, pulling her mouth deeper onto mine.
My desire for her burned. The biting wind cooled me as my hands ran over her body. Never knowing desire such as this, I pulled her closer to me. I needed to warm her, for her to feel my affection and embrace it. For her to know I was here for her.
I awoke in a sweat as my alarm clock rang at 6 a.m. Sitting up quickly, I looked for her. My breathing quickened. I sat confused. Was I with her last night? Was it the night before? What day is it? It was a work day. A wave of nausea overtook my body. I ran from my bed into the bathroom and vomited.
There was no time to contemplate my dream. I had an important meeting in the office and needed to be there. I entered the shower, groomed myself, put on a suit and there on the floor saw my clothes.
Bending over, I pulled on the t-shirt that I could have sworn I wore in my dream. Lifting it up from the floor, I saw the collar was soaked in blood. What the hell, I thought. I glanced out at the clock and reminded myself to deal with this later.
My morning was too important. I had a meeting with the largest retail coffee chain in the country. Instant millionaire was written in my future.
“Damn, you look like shit,” Rick, my partner blurted,”Where ya’ been all weekend? We thought you and Jen crashed on the way up to the cabin. I called and text you over twenty times. Hell, Steven what the hell is wrong? You look bad. Are you going to be able to pull this meeting off? Damn, this is too important.”
“Shut the hell up, Rick! OK? I will get the meeting done. I always have a back-up plan. I am prepared. Are they here yet?”
“Yeah, they are in the lobby,” he replied.
“Lunch ordered?” I asked.
“Yep. It will be here twelve sharp. I will bring it in. Good luck, buddy. Do what you do best, alright?” He said, sticking out his hand to shake mine. The thought of touching him made me feel ill. I bent over as a cramp ran from my lower back into my stomach and up to my neck.
“Steven, what the….?”
“I am alright. Let me go into the conference room, wait three minutes and bring them in.”
I looked around the small room. Rick did a great job. He made us appear as more than a two-person operation. We did well. Out profit statements proved that. I needed no intermediaries to purchase coffee. I moved it all direct from the farmers. I traveled to Africa and to South America. I spoke their language, could respect their culture and could close the deal. Small farmers they may be, but they were my ticket.
I blinked and could not believe what I saw. Upon seeing their battered, bloody bodies, I screamed and moved into the corner of the room. What the hell happened here? The thought of lost time passed my mind as I looked down at their bodies. Blood painted the walls and the floors.
Their taste was in my mouth. I licked my lips. I knew it was. I sat in the corner crying. I looked down at the two representatives. The people that would change my life and secure my future. The two young men lay before me, ripped into shreds. Oh my God, did I do this? I knew I did. Why did I friggin know that?
The rage had built inside of me. I did remember that. The one businessman had angered me. I remained unsure of my sudden volatile temper and my newfound ability to rip business partners into shreds.
Without warning, the door opened and Rick entered with a spread for lunch. He gasped, dropping the tray from his hands. I gleamed at him as the cans of Coke and the sandwiches fell to the floor.
I didn’t attempt to chase him as he fled. I could not live with myself if I hurt him. And, I would have. OH, yes, I would. I knew I only had moments to escape. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. I wanted to say I sorry but dare not.
That was six years ago. My life is still the same. My fortune remains in my account. I am sure the authorities are waiting for me to come and get it. I only wish I could. I wish I would have done things differently.
My condo is sold and my Porsche is gone. I even saw my mother once on television crying and pleading for me to give myself up. Of course, that isn’t an option. Maybe I could have in the past, but not now. I now only hold remnants of remorse or guilt. I did what I did to feed. I did what I did before I fully understood what I had become. I am much neater now.
Rick closed the business and never spoke a word to the press. He was always my good friend. I heard he was devastated. He never recuperated. I would like to reach out to him someday and tell him I haven’t either. I heard Jen sold her story to the magazines. What is was like to date the cannibal of Newburgh. Jeez, a cannibal. I am sure a Lifetime television movie based on her account would be soon to follow. If they only knew. If people only knew what lurks out there. They would have to work on all the tales.
Each day my human features and traits disappear. My career and my life has all changed. I seek only to feed and to survive because I am no longer able to live. I roam from town to town, feeding. I even sometimes search for soup girl but have never meant another like myself.
I wonder if I was her target that night or if it were the security guards in the supermarket. I try not to think of it too much. I don’t want the responsibility of my own demise.
My life holds no romantic moments nor does it boast any historical value. Not as of yet anyway. I live like a pig, in poverty and with the destitute. I blend with the people of the night. What a horrid bunch!
They feed off one another. Not in the same way I do. They consume your soul. I don’t take all of you, only pieces.
When I tire of them, I feed from them. No one ever misses them anyway. The drug addicts, the mentally ill or the prostitute runaways. I use them for my own survival. I have to. I have no choice.
I used to sit under the sign at the greasy Chinese restaurant in my hometown and contemplate the stories about people like me. Books filled with the glamour, the wealth, the fulfillment, the downright excitement of being immortal and the eroticisms that accompanied it. The movies made of us with all the sexy, Hollywood stars.
While I know that life doesn’t exist, I still keep it in my mind. Just in case.
