1989: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.
warnings: adult content, mature rea...
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May 1993
Bill woke up alone in Alma's bed, confused and rubbing his sleepy eyes. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to wake up, and then images of what had transpired during Alma's "lunch break" came to mind.
He was so exhausted from travel that he passed out after they had their romp. He was still naked from the waist down, wrapped in her soft white Sherpa throw blanket. Drawing the blanket up to his chin when he turned over, he saw a sheet of notebook paper left on the bed.
"Off at 6 today. Bringing dinner." Alma wrote with her half-cursive, half-print writing.
The vision of her blowing him while he drove to her apartment came to mind, and the last thing he remembered was her getting up after a very brief post-sex cuddle. He reached for her hand, trying to pull her back into his embrace.
"I gotta go," she giggled.
"Leaving me so soon. You make me feel cheap," he chuckled.
"There's a twenty on the nightstand for you," she winked, leaving him to go to the bathroom.
When she came back to get dressed, he was snoring rather loudly. Still half naked without a care. She draped a blanket over him and left him be after leaving the note.
Out of the shower, he felt so much more refreshed, but it was mostly the fact that he had sex, that satisfied him the most. While he appreciated the explicit photos of her that helped the visuals in his mind's eye, having to rely on just his hand was frustrating. Especially knowing he could have the real thing if he had stayed in Seattle.
He checked the time and figured that Alma should be on her way now with Echo. Before taking a seat on the couch, he noticed the place was a bit of a mess. He wasn't paying attention when he first entered; he was too focused on getting undressed. He paused then, picking up the bomber jacket and his jeans off the floor, along with Alma's white tank top near the entry.
Putting those away in the bedroom, he saw a hamper full of clothes sitting in the living room. He left it alone because, even after sniffing a few garments, he couldn't determine if they were clean or dirty. The dining table was littered with school work, mail, and other odds and ends with sprinklings of dry Cheerios between it all. Echo's toys were just scattered everywhere in the living area. He frowned a bit but also remembered that Alma didn't have time to clean. She would have if she had known of his arrival.
He took it upon himself to start tossing Echo's toys into the chest behind the couch. He cleared the dining table the best he could. Mostly, he sorted her schoolwork in a neat pile along with her mail. But not before he flipped through it. There was nothing of note except a birth announcement that had been delivered to her by an old friend.
"Eduardo and Carla Marquez are pleased to introduce the arrival of Tomás Eduardo Marquez."
It had the child's birth date and a photo of them swaddled on the postcard. He put it to the side and placed a copy of a local alternative magazine on top of the mail. While using his hand to sweep the cheerios off the table into his other, he saw headlights shining through the living room windows.
