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“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, absolutely. We’ve been together for two years now; it’s about time.”

The apartment was small, she thought. Ridiculously small, in fact, and their boxes were filling it to the point where it was a squeeze just to get in the front door. Was this really the best they could do?

From the bedroom she heard him cursing, and sighed. Yes, she loved him, and yes, he was an angry pain in the ass. “What is it now?” she called.

“I can’t find it,” he called back. “I remember putting it in one of my bedroom boxes, and it isn’t here!”

“What are you even looking for?”

“My toothbrush!”

This was starting to give her a headache. “Your toothbrush? We can buy a new one.”

“No! It’s a waste of money.”

This wasn’t a conversation she was going to continue, and she turned back to her own boxes. They were going to have to get rid of a whole lot of stuff, and it was probably going to be mostly her stuff. She was a little worried when he realized how many boxes were filled with her clothes. And shoes.

They […]

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If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was a setup. Considering where things ended up leading, it might as well have been. All of it, just to meet that one girl.

Marlon was crazy. He owned a huge apartment in the expensive part of the city, and no one really knew where he got the money; he worked at a divorce attorney office, the kind that don’t require a spouse’s signature. He had first met Marlon when he still worked at the big law firm, and he’d fallen in with him right away – the guy knew how to throw a party.

He never quite figured out why Marlon left; something to do with his boss, who Marlon had never really liked. In his mind, that didn’t really justify leaving a cushy job with an almost infinite upward path for a downtown crap shack that got people out of your life for $300. There was no way he was making any decent money there, even if they kept things off the books (which was pretty likely). It didn’t change a thing; he’d kept the apartment, the expensive TV and white leather couches, and he still threw mad parties. […]

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[…continued]

I hadn’t thought Amy or Jason had even been paying attention, but suddenly he leaned over towards the rest of us and said, “Hide it, guys!”

Jez made a face at him like he was totally crazy. “Fucking…put it in your shirt, or your pockets!” he hissed.

Bat twigged, and took a can and stuffed it into a pocket in his cargos. Those pockets are huge, and honestly it didn’t even look like there was anything in it. Jason took one and buried it in the pocket of his hoodie; Jez took the third one and actually shoved it under her skirt. She kind of squealed; “Fuck, that’s cold!”

And all that was left was mine, and I was drinking it, and the cops knew it. My heart was racing, and I looked around, and saw the trash can ten feet away. I stood – the cops were almost there – and started walking towards the can. I actually took another swig, right in front of them – I can’t believe I actually did that – but I tried to hold it really tight in my hand. The cops had stopped by the others, and I tossed the beer, still half full, into […]

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