the eighth: the second

because I'm not posting up my monogamous heart, this is my second NaNo.
about two/three hours (I was fucking around a lot) and 1829 words later, here is my newest baby that I am willing to share with you.
No planning at all.
I just thought I'd try to write Give It Back into a novel.

Have a go at it.
_____________________


one:: a weekend in the life of —

A man's body crashed into the wall of a hallway in an apartment building. A woman pinned him there and their hands tugged and pulled at each other's clothing as they violated the wall to make their way down to 1B.

That's how Friday nights always seemed to go.
A different man every two weeks or so, the same hallway.

The dark-haired woman had her dark lipstick smeared across her light skin, looking like the tramp that she tried to hide behind primp and proper businesswoman-like daytime clothing. The man was some younger boy, stupid and drunk and lustful for a chance to fuck, more than willing to be abused by this woman's hands.

They made it to the apartment and she had the key in the door without so much as a second glance.

A man's body crashed onto the floor.
The door swung open violently with their weight to bear and the two fell, half in the hallway and half inside of 1B while he was half inside of her.

With both using their feet, they inched and dragged across the floor in order for her to kick the door shut. She pulled his hair and no longer than it took him to get inside was he finished. Almost a moment before he had a time to think straight, the woman was already to her feet and fixing her clothes, a cigarette held in between her lips as she searches for a lighter.

"Jesus," the boy breathed out, dropping his head back to her floor.

"He didn't fuck you," she said dryly and finally got her cigarette lit. He was too drunk to care for her mood and he continued to rest it off on the floor.

+

A man's body crashed into the wall into the hallway across of 1B. A woman threw him out there and his hands lifted to his face as she picked up the newspaper that was placed in front of her door that morning, throwing that at his head.

That's how Saturday mornings always seemed to go.

Once the kid was kicked out, the woman continued her morning rituals.
Turn on the television for the news, pour a cup of too-hot coffee, pour a glass of wine, light a cigarette. Finish the wine, forget about the coffee until the following night, leave for work with the television on with the third cigarette being lit up before entering her car.

Radio station one — radio station two —
turn off the radio.

Fucking morning bullshit.

Park, walk, bullshit with the employees.

"Hey, Jane, didn't know you worked Saturdays." Some little assistant twittered in her ear, trying to be Little Miss fucking Cordial at eight in the god damned morning.

"I don't." The fourth cigarette was lit. "Called in for a meeting."

"Oh, wow, that must kinda suck. I mean, so, was "

"Yeah." Same brusque Jane as always. The assistant was persistent.

"So, uh, I know I asked you this Wednesday, but... did you get to read the memo about the Christmas party?"

"No." She did.

"Oh, well, when does your meeting start, maybe we can—"

"I'll read it when I fucking have the time to read it. Who gave you my fucking whip? Is there anything else you care to tell me what I need to get around to?"

The assistant stopped.
Jane threw her cigarette down and walked inside.

+

The meeting went as well as it could've and Jane often wondered during the three hours why she didn't just kill herself and be done with it. She wondered why she had to be present in a room with all those men representatives and wondered if it was for the other shitheads that didn't have to be in there to have something to stare at. She wondered why the light in the corner near the door was a different shade then all the other lights. She wondered if there was lipstick on her teeth. She wondered about how many tiles were up the ceiling. When she decided there were ninety-six and three quarter-sized tiles, she wondered what the fuck was being talked about.

Someone moved, people stood and shook hands. Jane stood and smiled patiently at everyone in departure, shaking hands, good meeting, see you next week, see you Monday, see you at the Christmas party, see you in fucking hell.

The woman was out with an unlit cigarette in her mouth, wondering if she got paid for that bullshit.

"Ma'am," a man called her to stop. Jane turned around and glanced over her shoulder and said nothing. It wasn't until the man, somewhere her age, had walked the distance between them did she turn to face him completely. They looked at each other for a moment, she was looking his appearance over — well dressed, tall, light skin, light eyes, dark hair — until she took the cigarette from her mouth, lighter in hand.

"What?" She asked, the word sounding italicized with the say she had stressed it so hard. The man smiled.

"Ma'am, my name is Joshua Stiles."

"I know your brother," is all she said to him.

"Yes."

"Ezekiel, yes?"

"Yes."

"Kind of biblical, isn't it?" She tried him for a wry grin. She got one.

"Ma'am—" he went back to trying to address what he called her for.

"You know my fucking name, you don't have to call me that." She lifted the cigarette back to her lips, she struck at the lighter.

"Alright, Miss Haddad—"

"Fucking Jane," she didn't get a light so she lowered her cigarette away from her mouth again. The sun started to creep from around their building and she squinted her dark eyes, raising her free hand to shield her face. "Get the fuck on with it, I've got a hangover twice the size of New York and I'm planning on going out tonight."

"Yes, okay, Jane," he stressed her name and paused, they stared for a moment. She moved her head a bit, encouraging him to continue. "Where are you going out tonight?"

"What?" She snapped at him, lowering her hand. "Is that all you fucking wanted to—"

"You look so damn hot when you say that word, the way your teeth are against your lip—"

"What?" She asked in a louder and more indignant tone. She was about to slap his ass down the stairs he came up. She was about to slam him against the side of some cripple's car and grab for his pants.

"Listen, there's no need for you to get so upset. Just listen. Instead of going where you're going, come catch me at nine at this place on Fourth and Swaine Avenue called The Five."

"What?" She asked again, now lowering the hand that covered her face from the sun. "Are you shitting me?"

"I'll see you there, Jane." Joshua turned away and left down the stairs to return to work. She stayed standing there for a moment, glaring against the sun to stare at his back as he left her there. Two coworkers walked past her towards the building and briefly greeted her, causing her back to stiffen and the glare directed to their backs as they headed in for their shift.

Jane lifted her cigarette to her mouth, lit it, turned away and walked to her car.

+

Saturday night came too fast and she was left wondering where she was going to go.
She already called the girls she had plans with and canceled, but she still wasn't sure where she was going to go.
She already dressed in latex boots and some cocktail dress, waiting for a left turn on Swaine Avenue, but she still wasn't sure where to go.

When she pulled into the parking lot of The Five, there was a line around the building. Some people were enjoying what they could hear of the music, others were enjoying what they could of the drugs and each other. Her phone rang.

"What?"

"I've got a space here for you." It was Joshua.

"What the fuck are you doing, stalking me?"

"I was out for a smoke."

"Fuck you." She hung up and parked where it took her five minutes to walk back to the club.

Joshua was still standing at the door behind the ropes and seated bouncers, chatting it up with one of them when he stopped to nod towards Jane. One stood and parted the rope to let her through.

"Didn't think you were going to come," Joshua said in light conversation. He stepped to the side to let Jane walk by and he placed his hand lightly between her shoulders to escort her inside.

"I wasn't."

"Don't bullshit me, Jane."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

When she asked that, they were already down the long hallway and at the heart of the club. It was two stories and parts of the second floor was some reinforced clear plastic or glass or someshit. It was two stories and part of the second floor showed the thongs and spills and dancers. The bass was too loud to hardly even understand what song was on.

"I can't hear you," Josh yelled over the music the best he could. Jane just looked at him. He said something else that she couldn't hear. Jane just looked at him. Finally he moved close to press his lips against the hair covering her ears and said, "Follow me."

And she did.

+

Sunday morning and Jane stared up at the ceiling. Someone was next to her and something was off.
Joshua rolled his back over and Jane looked across the room.

Some clock said 11:11. She dryly thought about making some bullshit wish on the time like those fucking e-mails claimed.
Hit AltF4 to see the name of your crush!

She needed a cigarette.
Jane didn't sit up.
She needed to sleep.

The woman let out a yawn and closed her eyes.
She opened one what felt like hours later to an empty bed and she read the clock at 11:14.
It shifted to 11:15 and an alarm jostled her out of the bed. She stumbled to the clock and hit the button.
The clock kept ringing.

Jane hit the button again and nothing happened. Finally she ripped the plug from the wall.

"Do you always have to be violent?" Josh was in the doorway.

"This isn't my fucking clock," Jane explained, dropping the plug to the ground. She looked around the room. "This isn't my fucking room."

+

Sunday night and Jane was dragging her ass back to 1B. When she made it to the door, Joshua was trailing like a dog behind her.

"Lock the door?" She called down the hallway and talked like it's ten in the morning.

"Yes," Josh answered quietly. He was talking like it was almost midnight. He put his keys away and Jane let him in.