A blue mist.
A blue mist.
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Bottle excerpt
What happened?
Context is important.
It started after my freshman year. I went home to visit my father one weekend, but when I pulled into the driveway, his white Ford F-150 was gone, and a black Mercedes with tinted windows was parked. As you know, that’s not a common look out there, particularly shiny with little dust.
I opened the front door and yelled: "Dad?
"
“Noah?” I heard a woman’s voice with an odd accent. Actually, it wasn’t odd, but it wasn’t expected. Dad had lots of guys on his crews that came from different regions of the globe. When he realized that there were thousands of men with advanced degrees in electrical engineering and architecture, etc., that didn’t have the language capabilities or proper work visas for top-shelf companies, then he started hiring under the table.
She stood at the top of the stairs. She had long legs and dark black hair. She said: “Noah, Noah. Please forgive. I’m Natasha. Your father hunt with my husband Boris. They hunt moose. Do you know Boris? He electrician with short body and bad manner,” she walked down and smiled as she stood across from me as I unlaced my boots. She wore a white t-shirt. Her nipples were eye level. She arched her back. I remembered my manners and focused on her dark pupils. She smirked. Her fat lips were dark ruby and moist, as though she’d just put on lipstick. She shook her head and apologized and asked if I was hungry. I was. She’d just made borscht.
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Bottle 1
Maya’s slate eyebrows arched as she squinted and titled her head. She looked up his nose.
“Ew. Big squiggly black things,” she shook her head a little. “I don’t remember those.”
“I stopped plucking, ” Noah feathered with his index finger, as though tucking a few dissenting hairs behind his ear.
“Didn’t help.”
“I doubt anyone notices.”
“They will. Isn’t he coming soon?”
“This afternoon.”
“Not a good look.”
“Probably wouldn’t care anyway.”
She sighed, “I’m plucking them tonight.”
“I need them.”
She sighed.
“If you can notice your breath on your hair.”
“Then?”
“I guess it’s a kind of milestone.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know. You changed the channel so I didn’t finish.”
“My fault, huh?”
“I just said I didn’t hear the rest. It’s a step.”
“I doubt that’s a thing.”
He looked to the door as group of ladies walked in.
Duct-tape on the concrete floor suggested a four-cubit buffer. They circled two rectangular blocks. The blocks stood parallel, each waist high. The blocks seemed veneered in porcelain. They leaned in for a closer look, reluctant to violate the line.
Stained glass circled the room. Oranges, greens, blues, and violet wedges flickered on the blocks as clouds passed by.
Noah stood in a corner with Maya. She put her hand on his forearm and smiled, “steady flow today.” She kissed his cheek.
A man with curly red hair entered. His flip-flops clacked on the concrete. His shorts hung low and revealed a tan line on his hip. He looked down at the tape. He used the toe of his sandal to peel up a loose edge.
Bottle 4
Steel-toed boots echoed on the tiles. He knew the sound from years of working in construction. Most of the guys wore plated boots. They worked with heavy beams on the Canadian border. It was often below zero in the Cascade mountains where they constructed second or third homes for people who rarely came and thought they were too good and never tired of silly demands, like ripping up eighty thousand in tile work just to reposition a Laufen bidet.
They slowed to a stop. In the murky reflection of a scratched steel panel, a figure emerged. His boots came to rest on the lacquered tile next to him, though empty silver urinals lined the walls. There must have been fifty places for him to stand, yet his black leather boots nearly touched his flip-flops. Sound of him slowly unzipping. A side glance revealed a holstered .45.
“A little nippy this morning.”
Noah didn’t respond.
“Nice thing here.”
His cheeks clenched, stream sputtered. He closed his eyes and tried to unclench. He slowed to a dribble then Nothing.
“Little forward, I guess,” he chuckled, “Ben.”
Noah half turned to get a better look at his combat gear. He didn’t see a patch or familiar insignia. The gear was dark navy with black highlights. It had the aura of Hugo Boss.
“What happened to your wrists? Looks like you were cuffed?”
Noah ignored him.
“Too forward?”
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