Risk

The Risk Inspection

Martin opened the door to his apartment and invited George in.

“Let me just get my coat,” said Martin. “Aren’t you going to need one, too?”

“Actually, I’ve got a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt in my satchel. Do you mind if I use your washroom to change?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Your place looks incredibly clean, and, um, functional.”

“It’s small. You can say it. But I don’t need a lot of room. It’s just me, and it was the most inexpensive one bedroom I could find. So it’s worth the trade-off in space.”

“Avid reader, eh?” said George, looking at the stacks of books leaning up against the overflowing bookshelves.

“Yeah.” If only he'd known he was having company he would've cleaned up the place. When was the last time he'd had company?

“And no television. No pictures or prints on the walls. I guess you’re not too much of a visual person.”

“I’m not much for television. But I’ve never really thought about whether or not I’m a visual person. I’m not much of a decorator, that’s for sure. In my family, that was always the woman’s domain, and I just never found the right woman. So I live in an undecorated world. There are worse fates.”

“I suppose there are. Well, I’ll just go change.”

“Fine.”

George was a bit dramatic, with his long hair, pierced features, and tattoos. But he was an okay guy. A bit prone to snap decisions. What did they expect to find in an industrial complex at 10 o’clock at night? It was something to do, though, and it always felt good to be hanging out with one of the “cool” guys. He’d never really had friends that were so interesting or colorful before. Certainly in high school a guy like George would never have hung out with him. That’s why he hated high school.

And he had never told anyone about Jenny since they’d, what? Stopped seeing each other? It actually felt good to talk about her. Made it seem less traumatic and dire, less a present pain and more a part of the past. Even though he still thought about her all the time. Agonized over the break-up again and again. How could all the good stuff have gone bad so quickly? You don’t even see it coming, and then *BAM*. There’s no way to protect yourself from it.

And there was the stuff he hadn’t told him. About how they’d never had sex. She always said he had to wait till after they were married. But she had had sex with previous boyfriends, he knew. Had she become a cold fish, or was it something about him that was undesirable? Well, no shit, Sherlock. Take a look at yourself. Whatever. He was better off on his own. It had been good talking about her, though, and George was a good listener.

So it was kind of fun, whatever it was they were doing. Maybe this is what cool people did: embarked on ill-advised escapades in the middle of the night. And he did sort of want to see the risk. He never got to do location inspections, and this particular location had been plaguing him since he’d first heard the name.

“You ready to go?” asked George, returning from the bathroom.

“Why not? Do we need to bring anything?”

“Not that I can think of. Maybe a flashlight. Do you have a map, so we’ll know how to get out there? I don’t know Scarborough that well.”

“Yes, of course. Perly’s. Do we have a plan of any sort, or are we just going to go out there and see what happens?”

“See what happens, of course.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

He locked the door and joined George over at the elevator. His car was on the second level of underground parking. George whistled in mock admiration as they walked out to his car.