Messed Up

3 - Intel

When I arrived home after my eventful morning, I found myself tired already. I wasn't used to so much excitement, I'd let myself go over the past months. I stifled a yawn as I shoved the rusty key into the rusty lock on my front door and shoved it open, revealing the dusty, half-full, half-empty apartment within.

My apartment consisted of a ground floor, with a room that used to be a living room. The living room was now full to the brim with cardboard boxes overflowing with vinyl and cassettes and all manner of other things. There was also a kitchen on the ground floor, fairly clean apart from the odd coffee stain that I couldn't be bothered to wash off.

On the second floor, there was a bathroom and my 'bedroom'. My bedroom wasn't really much of anything, there wasn't even a bed in there, just my old armchair and a couple of leather sofas that I'd bought years ago. I called it my bedroom because it's where I slept, it's where I smoked, it's where I listened to music. It was just easier to call it that.

I took off the ray bans I'd been wearing for the entire day and threw them on to the growing pile of dirty laundry and other stuff that was collecting in the corner of the room. I never used to be this messy, in fact, my mom always said I was an "obsessively tidy" kid and that my obsession with cleanliness was hard to keep up with. But that was back when my mom was alive, I don't remember those days very much.

I trundled over to my record player and flicked through the box of vinyl that sat next to it. My fingers grazed against the colorful cardboard covers that were falling apart from either age or lack of care, or both. I settled for one of my favorites: Jozef Van Wissem's 'The taste of blood'. I think it was from a movie I went to watch as a kid, but I wasn't sure.

My armchair groaned as I relaxed into it, I closed my eyes but was unable to take my mind off the job I'd just taken, or rather, the people I'd be working with.

That girl. I thought to myself, unable to keep my thoughts from wandering. What a freak. It's as if she doesn't have a care in the world. How can you be in a business like this and still act like that?

A knock at the door.

I groaned as I stood up from my armchair and made my way down the uncarpeted steps towards the front door. When I opened it, I wasn't at all surprised to see Antonio standing there like a nervous idiot.

Antonio was the only person who knew where I lived, the only visitor I ever got. I wanted to keep it that way.

"What do you want?" I scowled, refusing to open the door more than a fraction.

"You..uh" Antonio stuttered. "You asked me for information? About the people you'd be working with?"

Antonio held up a brown paper folder with documents and pictures shoved into it. I sighed.

"I thought you were gonna text me or something, not actually come over"

"Oh, sorry man" Antonio rubbed the back of his neck. "I could just-"

I pulled the door so that the gap was now big enough for my only friend in the world to fit through.

"Just come in. You're here now"

Antonio mumbled a few thank you's as he walked past me and into my apartment. I saw his eyes wandering as soon as he was inside. Although he was the only person who knew where I lived, I hardly ever let him in. Maybe he was wondering how I let the place get so dusty.

I lead him up to my 'bedroom' where I reassumed my previous position sprawled across my favourite chair. I lit up a cigarette.

"What are you doing, moron?" I scowled, as Antonio shuffled his feet in the doorway. "Are you gonna sit down or what?"