Hell Is Other People, Danielle Bellwood [best novels to read .TXT] 📗

Accounting,” Roger said. “But I don’t care.”

“Does Phil know?”

Roger peered over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone with Jr in the shop. No bucolic bean counter in sight.

“He was steaming this morning. He had some form he wanted me to fill out. But I just decided that I didn’t care anymore. About anything.”

“You can’t just quit.”

Roger shrugged. It seemed pointless to argue whether or not he could do something that he’d already done. He glanced over at the order counter where two coffee cups waited to be picked up: one medium sized, one far too large to be healthy sized. Roger rose to grab the cups and put them in one of the pressed paper carriers sitting in a stack nearby.

“Whatever.” Roger shrugged. “It’s not as though I like my lot now. Sometimes change is good.”

He dropped a handful of coins in the empty tip jar beside the register with the little hand written note taped to the front that read ‘If you fear change, put it in here.’

“After all,” Roger said, “It’s not like things can get any worse.”

Part IV: Worse

Twilight Zone

Arlo hummed lightly to himself as he hurried down the sidewalk to Gillian’s apartment, weaving through burning Saguaro and frozen pedestrians. Gillian hadn’t shown at the coffee shop again this morning. Not surprising since she’d apparently given up caring a while ago. That attitude was wholly unlike her, and also a massive step in the right direction, as far as Arlo was concerned. She was finally starting to come out of her water-tight shell. She’d even sort of smiled at him yesterday.

Arlo reached the door to Apartment 42 and knocked briskly on the door. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet happily as he waited for Sleeping Beauty to answer.

At the pounding knock on her front door, Gillian opened her eyes and groaned. She’d unplugged her alarm this morning. Well, actually she’d yanked the cord right out of the wall, ending the infernal racket when the eh eh eh blared at her at 6:00 AM. Rolling over onto her side, she’d curled up into a ball and promptly gone back to sleep.

Gritting her teeth, she threw off the covers and stomped across the room to the door which would lead out to the living room/dining room/kitchen area.

She threw the dead bolt and yanked open the door open for who else? Arlo, of course. He was grinning at her and holding out her cup of coffee like it was a goddamn trophy or something. Grunting in gratitude, she grabbed the cup and stepped back to let him in.

He took in the entire scene with one quick glance.

“You are now entering an area which we call the Twilight Zone,” Arlo’s voice echoed deep and mysterious.

The interior of Gillian’s previously spotless sanctuary had changed. The plush off-white sofa was now more of a sort of beigy color with darker spots and noticeable crumbs scattered on the cushions. The TV broadcast a screen of black and white static, the sound echoing strangely throughout the small space. And a single cockroach scurried quickly across the lintel for the kitchen.

“Um… Gillian,” Arlo said, “Are you alright?”

Her only response was a one shoulder shrug.

“Okay,” he said, sitting on the sofa. The buttered popcorn crumbs crunched slightly under his weight as he settled onto the soiled cushions. “So, hear me out. We know we’re stuck here… wherever here is. But now, all of a sudden, little things are different. Why? What changed?”

“Maybe we changed,” Gillian said as she took a sip of the cold light coffee. Somehow, when Arlo got it for her it was always just right. She felt like freaking Goldilocks with the perfect coffee, sipping in satisfaction.

Arlo cocked his head, considering her response.

“We changed… Okay, how? In what way?”

“I don’t know, Arlo,” she said. “I was just being snide.”

“Maybe this Phil guy will know,” Arlo said. “From what Roger was saying about him bossing around the drones or whatever, it kind of sounds like he’s the person in charge… the CEO or whatever… so maybe we can just ask him. Or better yet, tell him what we want. Hmm… what do we want?”

“Maybe you should ask him for a brain.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled nervously. “That’s not very nice, Gillian. I would never say that you should ask him for a heart.”

She smiled at that, in spite of herself. The smile slid off her face as she looked down at her stained silk pajamas. Gross.

“I need to shower,” she said. “I just wish that the super would actually fix the damn water heater.”

“Your water heater’s not working?” Arlo asked, walking across the room to her bedroom and into the small bathroom. “Are you sure? Maybe you just need to give it a minute to warm up.”

Gillian followed him, absently unbuttoning her pajama top on the way.

“You think I haven’t tried letting it warm up? Of course, I have.”

Arlo reached through the curtain to crank the hot knob as far as it would go. He turned around to face Gillian. Her rumpled silk pajama top was open all the way to her waist. Arlo couldn’t help staring at the narrow strip of alabaster skin visible through the opening.

“Arlo.”

“Huh?”

“Arlo!”

His head jerked up at her commanding tone, eyes locking onto her angry glare.

“Oh, sorry.” He laughed.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“The laugh,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s painful.”

“Oh.” He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I do it when I’m nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled, cutting off the sound at her annoyed frown. “I mean… just look at you.”

She glanced down. The narrow expanse of pasty white flesh above her pajama bottoms almost glowed in the light from the LED bulbs in the vanity mirror.

“No, I don’t mean now… although yeah…” he laughed again, quickly covering it with a fake cough.

“Arlo,” she hissed as he fought to cut off the horrible sound. “Get out.”

“Oh right. Of course. Sorry!” He laughed