The Bad Guy

VII: The Couch Dweller

Diana wore a black strapless dress; it was form-fitting, with black sheer stockings underneath. On her feet were shiny stilettos that were cheap but looked expensive, giving her a bit of status as well as height. Her dark, curly hair fell past her waist, wearing makeup that brightened her eyes and filled out her lips. Olivia joined Diana as they journeyed in search of Diana's boss's apartment. Sam was having a party, and they'd each brought a bottle as a housewarming present.

"What was the building number again? I could have sworn we just passed it a block ago." Olivia asked as she shook off a receipt that had stuck to her new Steve Maddens. Diana checked the e-vite one more time, quizzically looking up. "Did we pass Sycamore? Or was it Johnson Street?" The pair of directionally challenged women wandered for ten more minutes before finding their destination, somehow having already downed a fourth of their bottles by the time of their arrival.

Sam answered the door, smiling from ear to ear. "My favorite girls! And never empty handed, of course. My only question is, did you save any for the rest of us this time?" She laughed, ushering them in enthusiastically. The apartment was considerably larger than the studio Diana lived in, but that was to be expected of the owner of a viral bakery. The appliances were new, the furniture carefully curated, the paintings aesthetically pleasing. People inundated the place, making it seem much smaller than it probably was. Diana assumed Sam had posted the party e-vite on her story, which explained the ever-increasing turnout. Liv and Di parked themselves at the kitchen island, where various strangers were grabbing drinks. Shots were taken and fruity drinks were made after to carry as an accessory while they mingled. As an extrovert who works PR, this was Olivia's arena. Usually she functioned as Di's crutch at parties, controlling the conversation and charming the masses so that Diana never had to. It was a system that worked for them; Diana got to be functionally social and Olivia got to shine. They were different but they supported one another, they were a team.

Diana often exhausted easily in these situations, using drugs and alcohol as a lubricant for her many anxieties. Having maybe lubricated too thoroughly, Diana passed the baton to Olivia and took a break on one of the very expensive-looking couches. She'd eaten a brownie someone gave her an hour ago, and the vodka was accelerating the process. The colors of the string lights began to transfix Diana as her eyes followed them across the ceiling, joyfully bouncing from corner to corner. She hadn't even become aware of the other couch dwellers until she heard a bit of their exchange.

"Who do you think that is?"

"Maybe she knows Sam..."

"Obviously, idiot! How else would she be here?"

"She looks wasted."

The words of the couch dwellers scrambled together as Diana watched the black TV, counting the various knicknacks on the stand. A hand touched her shoulder, asking "Maybe you should watch some TV, Di, something to move your trip along!" Sam handed her the remote and playfully rubbed her head, the way an owner pets affectionately pets their dog. Crossed to her wits end, Diana put on the Salvador Dali short he made in collaboration with Walt Disney, Destino. It was filled with optical illusions, confusing themes, and trancing music. The couch dwellers, who Di had deduced were as 'wasted' as she was, began a drunken frenzy over the film, confused by the imagery, terrified by the animation, and, above all, boisterously laughing.

But there was one voice she heard above it all.

The couch dweller sitting by Diana's side was funny. Genuinely funny. At the first joke, Diana began to giggle, at the third, she couldn't breathe.

It was a moment. A big one, one that you realized would become the beginning of a chapter in the novel that was your life. Though completely wrecked, Diana found herself thinking, I feel like I've been found.

"What's your name?" The couch dweller asked. Maybe she was flirting, Diana thought.

Unfortunately, Diana's mouth felt like a saliva filled black hole that had been sewn shut. She smiled, staring into the dweller's eyes dreamily. There were no words to be said. At least, Diana was physically incapable of saying those words.

Diana took her phone out clumsily, attempting to gently place it in the couch dweller's hand.

The rest of the night was a blur.

According to Olivia, after getting the couch dweller's instagram, Diana drunkenly wandered into Sam's guest bedroom, falling asleep in Olivia's arms. Even so, Diana couldn't forget the couch dweller.

It was love.

At least, she hoped it would be.