One Man Standing

Invited Guest

My eyes shift from the fluttering LED lights hanging from above and to Connor's closed eyes. I nudge him and he does not awake. Suddenly, I push him and his head hits the metal pole, coated in fingerprints. The little pest buzzes his eyes open and he grips the bars tightly. "We are almost at our next stop," I say and stare at him.
    "I don't care," Connor mumbles and closes his eyes again. "Wake me up when we actually are at our destination."
    I take a step close and reach for his arm, forcing him to hit himself. "Oh, stop hitting yourself," I taunt and he pulls his arms away, rubbing his eyes.
    Connor twiddles his fingers and scratches the back of his neck, self-soothingly. Hearing the tapping of his foot, I say, "I think I see your friend."
    He looks up and his eyes follow where my finger points. Pointing towards a disgruntled man of probably fifty. The man scratches his silver patched beard and does a similar motion to Connor. Under the hazy, violent white lights, I examine the man of fifty's figure. He was a man of dust and cobwebs covering what once was his youth. Eyebags sinking to his cheeks and dust bunnies laying inside the pits around the nostrils. Then, I turn to Connor's face like stale bread meeting my eyes.
    "He looks a lot like you," I mutter.
    "The man looks nothing like me," Connor responds, crossing his arms tightly.
    "Really, because he could be your twin," I giggle and he rolls his eyes.
    My eyes meet a fresh-faced woman and she releases her hair of silky stars, brushing it gently. Eyes of blueish-gray, cheeks of apples, and lips behind sweet melodies fill my imagination. I turn to Connor and reflect on his strands of blonde, eyes of a pond, and sweet-twisted lips. Then, I point to the pretty girl on board and his eyes wander to the sight. "You look like the evil and obviously more ugly twin of her," I taunt again and grin at his eyes rolling like marbles.
    "Not like you'll ever be able to get her phone number," Connor scoffs and turns to me.
    "Watch me," I say and walk up to the pretty blonde.
    The girl turns her back on me and I stand next to her. "Hey, can I get an autograph?" I ask and she faces me, "Oh, sorry I thought you were my favorite actress."
    "Wait, who did you think I was?" The stranger asks.
    "I thought you were Sydney Sweeney," I answer. "You know, pretty eyes and an addicting smile."
    "Wait, do you see a lot of movies?" The blonde asks.
    "Ah, you caught me," I say. "Maybe you'd like to see a movie together some time tomorrow night?"
    "Sure–uhm I forgot to introduce myself," She says. "I'm Claire and here's my phone number."
    Claire pulls her phone and shows me her phone number. Similarly, I send her my phone number and respond, "I'm Austin and I've not met a Claire as pretty as you. I'll see you tomorrow, I have to go to my next stop now."
    Waving goodbye to her, I walk towards Connor and his head tilts down at me. "How did you get that girl's number?" He asks and crosses his arms. "No offense, but you're kind of an asshole."
    "Some people are more blessed in life than others like me," I respond and grin brightly.
    "You mean that girl has yet to discover what kind of person you are?" Connor jokes and I roll my eyes.
    "Well, you're just jealous I can pull anybody I want!" I respond and cross my arms.
    Over the speaker, the announcer announces the destination and I pull Connor by my side. I hastily reach for his hand and pull him off the subway train. Coarse, warm hands envelop my fingers and I can feel Connor squeeze my hand gently. We exit the train and I pull away from his hand. "Are you trying to humiliate me?" I stammer and look away from his face.
    "No–no of course not," Connor responds and scratches the back of his neck. "What makes you think so?"
    "People are going to get the wrong idea about us and it's embarrassing," I scoff and we walk past the security. "I'm not like that... I'm not one of those people."
    "Neither am I and I know you don't play like that," he responds and turns to me. "However, I can't help but think of the what if's."
    I hit Connor by the elbow and he moves his elbow away. Standing a bit taller, I pull up close to his ear. "Anyways, we should stop by a suit tailor, so we get to go to an event together," I whisper, ignoring the last comment. "Also, you need a new haircut and a drastic alteration in your appearance to avoid suspicions. You know, I've been seeing posters of you around for missing person. It surprises me how people care about you. We probably should head to your place and make voice calls about how you're on vacation."
    "You really have this thought out in your head, huh?" Connor teases and I grimace slightly. "I'm very flattered to hear you think of me so much."
    My eyes narrow and I step on his shoe. He winces and I grin again, walking downtown to the tailor. We stop by a tailor and the tailor takes Connor's measurements. The tailor says he will have the suit ready by the weekend and we head down to Bergdorf Goodman. Walking into the store, we run into a familiar employee and the stout woman welcomes me in her arms. "Austin, it has been awhile since I seen you," she says and I stare at her name tag, studying her name.
    "Oh, Patricia, you know I am a very busy man," I reply and pat her on the back to let go. "I am with a friend of mine to help him dress for a business meeting. He needs new shoes to go pair his suits."
    She lets go of me and Connor chuckles, turning to him I gesture my head to ask what's so funny. "You're like a woman," he giggles and I can feel my blood rise. "Cannot believe you shop often enough to the point you're a well-known client."
    "Really?" I scoff and cross my arms, "It isn't really so funny."
    Patricia palms her hands together and beckons to us, "Aww, you two are like an old couple!"
    "You're over your head, woman," I say and gesture to her. "Now, what shoes would pair well with a suit for a special occasion?"
    "What is the occasion?" She asks and blinks at us.
    "A wedding as the bridesmen of course," I respond, stressing the bridesmen part.
    "I suggest the Dunhill men's luxury evening lace-up oxfords in the shade noir," she answers and runs across the selections of high-end dresses.
    Short bow-legs of hers slip from under her long skirt and I can feel myself turning red in sympathy. The stout woman comes back to us with boxes of shoes. "Madam, may you accompany me in the dressing room?" Connor asks and turns to the woman.
    "Why yes, I'd love to!" Patricia answers and drags Connor to the dressing room.
    My hands cover the redness of my face and I turn away from the sight of the two. What could he possibly want to do with such an ugly creature?! I pace around the array of clothing racks and I overhear the conversation between the two. "You have got to help me, this man is holding me hostage," Connor says to the woman.
    "I know right?" The employee agrees and opens the boxes, "Sometimes it feels like my husband is holding me hostage from shopping."
    "No—no, you have me wrong!" Connor exclaims and turns behind him.
    I stand behind him and stare at him sitting down. "Connor, we need to talk," I retort and drag him by the collar to the door. "We will be back, Patricia. In fact, have those shoes paid for on my tab and shipped to my house."
    I drag him off the floor to the floor of the concrete day-by-day people spit and walk over. We walk across the white bricks to the red bricks making up the alley. Plastic, black trash bags litter the alley and I toss Connor on the trash bag. Still holding on to his collar, I punch him in the eye repeatedly until his eye turns purple. "Looks like we need some foundation for that," I taunt and knee him in the stomach.
    "Help!" He yells and I grip my hands around his mouth.
    "I was being nice to you today and this is what you do?" I ask and tighten my grip around his mouth. "There's more from where this came from."
    Repeatedly, I punch him in the eye and press my thumb against his eye. "How could you try to leave me?!" I yell and grip my hands around his mouth, "Please don't leave me..."
    Connor's smooth blue eyes soften under the blanket of his caramel-kissed eyelids. "Why?" He muffles under my hand.
    "You know... so you don't rat me out to the police," I answer and grip onto his shirt. "Nothing more."
Suddenly, he bites my hand and I pull away. The warm saliva clings to my fingers, dripping over the sleeve of my Ralph Lauren sweater. "Ugh," I mutter and make a face. "Gross, seriously?"
    He punches me and I hit my head against the coarse red bricks. I look up and gaze at Connor's face from above, kicking him in the legs. His body bends down and he falls on his knees, meeting eye-to-eye. Lunging at me, the weight of his heated body sinks me further down the concrete. Connor wraps his hands around my neck and I say, "Have you even killed someone before?"
    "No," he answers, pressing his thumb against my throat.
    "How can you kill me without a plan or even the driving energy for it?" I ask.
    "You're right, it is pointless," he responds, loosening his grip. "I can't do it even though I hate you!"
    Connor lets go of me and curls into a ball. Crawling to him, I face him and stare. "The feeling is mutual," I retort and listen to his soft whimpers.
    "I don't understand what's stopping me from killing you," He cries and buries his head in his arms. "Maybe, I'm just staying still because I'm curious."
    "You aren't exactly sane aren't you?" I tease and nudge his elbow.
    "Says you," Connor sobs and rocks himself gently. "You don't understand how it feels knowing I'm going to be slaughtered, but don't know when it's gonna happen. I'm fully aware you're going to kill me or somebody. Either way, one of us must die."
    "You don't know that, Connor," I say and twiddle my thumbs.
    I help Connor up and we walk home.