Late Is How They Refer to the Dead, Right?

Brent:

“Where are you going, Chuck?” I asked, hardly awake.

“Crazy.” Charlie answered, closing the door as he spoke.

Typical Charlie response, chockfull of sarcasm (which I guess is an inherited trait, seeing as how I would normally respond the same way.) I actually did want to know where he was going. It’s got to be only like, ten thirty in the morning. Ryan definitely couldn’t be awake yet and I couldn’t see him going to hang out with anyone else. She normally comes over everyday in the summer at about eleven or twelve. I often times wake up hearing her and Charlie singing in his bedroom. I can’t say I mind, their voices sound so nice together. Her voice sounds like a hybrid of the female singer in Arcade Fire and Kate Nash. She looks like any other sixteen year old girl. She is about 5’6” with long, wavy black hair that falls to just below her collar bones. She is of an athletic build, although she does no sports at all. Instead, she fills her time with learning new arias or musical theatre ballads. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been around her when she hasn’t at least once started to hum the tune to some song. She has the deepest and prettiest blue-gray eyes I have ever seen. They have the appearance of slate but bluer. She likes to watch late nineties shows like “Dawson’s Creek” and “Friends” (the themes to both of these shows are some of her favorites to sing with Charlie in the morning.) She is really outgoing and down to earth. I barely know her and I can tell she’s levelheaded. Ryan is one of Charlie’s only friends, in fact, she probably is his only friend. I don’t really get why, though. I know Charlie pretty well, seeing as he is my brother, and he’s pretty easygoing. I remember my friend Lucas told me, ‘Ryan is such a saint for hanging out with Darth Gayder over there.’ I proceeded to punch him in the gut. I guess you could I’m protective over my siblings.

“HELLO?!” screamed an all-too-familiar female voice.

“Jesus f*****g Christ, George, I nearly pissed on myself.” I lied. I actually did pee a little bit (but not so much that it was a big deal, just a drop or two.) Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was startled by my sister’s yelling. Our cat, who was drinking from his water dish in the kitchen, spilled the entire thing all over the floor.

“Good.” my sister hissed. “Did Charlie tell you where he was off to?”

“You already know the answer to that question.”

“So… Shouldn’t you be at work right now, Brent?”

“S**t, what time is it?”

“Eleven forty-five. Weren’t you supposed to open the store today?” Before she even finished her sentence, I was up the stairs and in my bedroom. I had to be at work fifteen minutes ago and that’s how long it takes me to get there. I throw on a tie-dyed tank top I’d stolen from the store about a month ago and slip into a pair tight blue pants. I race out of my room without even looking in the mirror and nearly trip and fall as I descend the stairs at light speed. I grab my navy blue pair of Toms, my Ray Ban’s, and my car keys and I race, once again, out the front door and into our VW Vanagon and before I know it, I’m driving.

When I pull up to the Urban Outfitters that so much of my life has wasted working at, the clock reads “12:05”. I get out and walk up to the front of the store, keys in hand, only to find that someone had already come and opened up for me. My heart sank. I suddenly realized that the only person who could have come this early and opened is my boss.

“F**k.” I say under my breath as I walk through the threshold of the overpriced clothing store. When I look up from the hardwood floor, I’m greeted by a not-so-friendly sight. My a*****e of a boss is standing by the registers, arms crossed, with a disgusted look on his face. I know I’m in deep s**t.

“Hey, uh, Brent. Why don’t we go chat in my office for a little bit?” he said, practically spitting.

Author's Note

God. This chapter was a total bitch to write. I know it's shitty but whatever. It's hard to write from Brent's POV. Sorry for the wait and sorry for the briefness of this chapter.

Writer's block sucks.