The trip was around the corner…

  By this time in three days, I’d be at the beach–or at most of the way down there. I was already dreading the drive. It would take around seven hours to get there and seven more hours to return home. And that was before any stops were accounted for. We were bound to have to pit for gas and make another stop at a restaurant if we wanted to eat something more nourishing than snacks from a convenience store. Originally, I wanted to take my car since it was nicer than Michael’s beater, but the battery incident was still playing in my head. It wasn’t like my car had other underlying issues, but there wasn’t any telling if the cord would become undone from my battery again. Imagine if my car randomly shut off while going seventy miles per hour on the interstate…okay, that was an improbable scenario, considering the grip the alligator clips had on the positive and negative connections on my battery, but if it happened once, what’s stopping it from happening again? Michael’s car might be a piece of shit from the outside, but to my knowledge, he hasn’t had any issues with it ever since I arrived. Not like he drives it much. I’d be surprised if he had his oil changed within the last year.

  Right now, I was wasting away at work again. Man, I couldn’t wait until I got out of here.

  “Bruh, I’m so fucking bored right now…” Paul likewise couldn’t wait until he could set foot out.

  “Well, at least we’re getting paid to do all this sitting around.” I was trying to pass the time by looking at my phone. Paul had his laptop up. I assumed that he was doing some assignments for a summer class.

  We were both in the break room–it was the only place in the back with chairs. The smell of burnt coffee that smacked me in the face when I walked had reduced to background noise. It was too hot to consider drinking coffee recreationally, plus I wasn’t drowsy in the slightest. I thought about cleaning the pot out with water so the smell would go away, but I was too lazy to do that right now. Maybe later when I’m bored and beginning to lose my energy.

  “Yeah, but still…” Paul looked up, bewildered by the fact that he still had an hour until he left. He was lucky! I was stuck here for six more hours!

  “Man, I can’t wait until next week; I don’t have to be here, " I thought out loud.

  “You going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, going to Florida. Panama City. Never been there.”

  Paul perked up and grinned at the mention of Panama City, “Aww hell yeah dude. I just went there for Spring Break. I had a hell of a time. I don’t think I’ve ever drank so much…that whole trip was a blur…” Wait, aren’t you 20? Well, I guess that’s to be expected–most university students his age have a fake ID for situations like that–I was too lame to ever have one.

  “Well, I don’t think I’ll have as good a time as you did.” I’d rather remember my vacation.

  “Who’re you going with?”

  “Ahh, my roommate and some of his buds from work.” I wasn’t lying.

  “You’re going with that Asian dude?”

  I was taken aback by Paul’s upfrontness. ‘that Asian dude’ was one way to refer to Michael…“Yeah…or rather, he invited me on the trip.”

  “Have you met the guys you’re going with? Are they cool?”

  “I haven’t met them in person yet, but I’ve talked to them for a bit.” Due to the nature of their ‘remote jobs’, these sorts of meetups were some of the only times they met face-to-face. “To be honest, I don’t even know what they look like…”

  “I hope they aren’t on some true crime shit.” Well, I hope not either.

  “Oh, I highly doubt it.” They have too much going for them to do any ‘true crime shit’...I hope they’re rational enough to know that.

  Paul had stretched his arms and gotten up. Seems like he had enough of staring at Canvas, “It’s a dope place, so I know you’ll have a good time.”

  “Hey, anything to get away from here for a bit.”

  “I hear that,” Paul shut his laptop off and started walking towards the door, “it’s a shame that you aren’t bringing any chicks though.”

  “How do you know that?” He’s right, but how does he know?

  At the entrance of the break room, Paul simply asked “Well, are you?”

  Should I lie? Nah…“...No…” Something tells me Paul would see right through me if I pretended otherwise.

  “That’s a shame man…” Paul was shaking his head as if he already knew that both Michael and I had no game. I mean, he’d only seen Michael for fifteen seconds total and already could clock that from him. “I’m gonna get something from the vending machines outside. Hopefully, something comes in so I have something to do before I go.”

  “Alright, sounds good.” Personally, I was hoping that it would stay this quiet. I wasn’t quite that bored yet.

  “And hey, you never know–you might meet a girl there.” Paul chimed in with a final thought before he left. I highly doubt it, but I’m glad he has his hopes up for me. Little does he know that I don’t even know what my current crush looks like in real life. Hey, maybe one day…

  “Man, fuck this coursework…”

  I was doing summer classes because they were supposed to be easier. I had fewer classes on my plate–two classes right now, compared to the five I usually take during the fall and spring. Summer classes were only a month long–nothing compared to regular semester classes which lasted the whole season. Other summer classes I had didn’t seem like they had 15 weeks of assignments smushed into 5 weeks. Hell, most of them were light on coursework, allowing me to do my own thing most of the time. My other summer class was a breeze like they should be, but this class, THIS CLASS, was fucking hard. Assignments are due what seemed like every day. An uncompromising professor on top of that, who was a hardass when it came to due dates. I mean, what’s the difference between 11:59 PM and 12:02 AM? It’s three fucking minutes. I know I ain’t the only one that hates the guy. Just wished I had gone on Rate My Professor before enrolling in this shit. Too late now, can’t drop out. Just gotta tough it out for a few more weeks.

  I was going to get another Gatorade–I would bring some to work, but I always forget them in my fridge. And the prices for this vending machine were pretty good, at least compared to the ones on campus. At least seventy-five cents cheaper. The only bad part was that I had to go outside in the blazing heat each time I wanted another bottle.

  I entered two dollars in and got a red Gatorade. While waiting for it to fall out of the vending machine, I took a look at the parking lot.

  …What’s that guy doing next to John’s car?...

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  Ah, I think that’s his car. I swore I’d seen him getting out of it before. Either way, the sweaty-looking man had now unbent himself and was walking towards the back of the parking lot. Must’ve needed to tie his shoes. Would make sense why he was bent over next to the tires for several seconds. My girl has been too into true crime recently, those wild scenarios that she makes up in her head are starting to spread to me…

  When I say that guy is sweaty, I really mean it—the guy was soaked…like, I can tell from here. The back of his shirt is rinsed. I didn’t see him in the store, so I can only assume he parked and went to the other side of the plaza. He doesn’t have anything in hand, however. I don’t know man, people are weird. I just need to mind my business and drink my gatorade.

  Fuck! I need to go–I’m sweating buckets and I almost got caught!

  I’ve been down here for about a week now. I knew it was going to be hot, but I never took into account how hot the inside of a car can get. I had been able to park in the shade each day, but the everpresent radiation from the Sun ensured that it didn’t mean anything. This place was hell on Earth. I had no spare T-shirts to change into nor any more water to sip on. It would be boiling hot at this point anyway. At least the shirt was white, so it didn’t absorb heat…it still weighed about five pounds about right now. And I was getting thirsty. I couldn’t leave my post to get any water, so I was stuck like this for now. Also, my head was pounding. Pounding and pounding. It had been for a few days now. My nose was running as well. My allergies had been going off the charts ever since I came down here. Juliet was lucky that I was willing to go through this for her sake. No matter how bad I felt, I needed to do this. I needed to find The Roommate. That was why I was trying to tag the car before I went back, so I could go back to the hotel, change, recharge, and monitor.

  My excursion to tag a Honda was going smoothly until I noticed that kid.

  I had just gotten there and was putting the GPS tracker on the inner wheel well of a Honda Civic. A white man with a blue vest tucked to his forearm had walked out of the car an hour or two ago—he fit the description of The Roommate. Failing to tag him would be a huge setback. Right as I got there, a tall young skinny-looking ginger looked towards me wearing a blue Hobby Lobby vest. I panicked–finding a place to stick a GPS tracker isn’t easy when you get spooked. Even harder when any light burns your eyes. There was not a cloud in the sky on this sweltering summer day–I dropped the fucking thing and had to scoop it up before the ginger would become suspicious of me. I know it isn’t his car, but I have no clue how close the coworkers are here. Thankfully, I finally got the tracker on a part where it would stick and was able to leave. I don’t have a clue if he saw me–to be honest, I didn’t want to look back, since that would only make me look more suspicious. I don’t even know if my body would let me. I lost my vision for a few seconds after the sequence of events. I’m lucky all I had to do was walk in a straight line to get back to my vehicle. Just keep on walking…just keep on walking.

  I found him. I found the fucker.

  It was the day after almost getting caught. I really don’t know how close I was to being spotted, all I know was that it was too close for comfort. I’m glad I didn’t chicken out, because the car I put the tracker on was the one that belonged to The Roommate.

  I was able to confirm it by driving by where his car was parked. The trees behind the car were the same as in the photo. Leeland cypress trees, greener than I thought they would be. There was another car parked next to it, which I assumed was Francis’s.

  I could’ve confirmed this the night before, but my body would not let me. It was a miracle that I was able to drive back to my hotel without passing out. I was basically bedridden from the time I got back until this afternoon. The bed was fucking uncomfortable as hell–I should’ve expected it staying at this cheap ass hotel. These beds were mainly used to fuck prostitutes, not sleep. McDonald’s delivered to my door did not help in the slightest either. Some may call it goyslop, but I enjoy it anyway.

  With my laptop to the side, I was able to get coordinates to where The Roommate was. Longitude and latitude. Translating that into a street address was simple. It was around a twenty-minute drive from my hotel.

  Driving by was all I was able to do since there wasn’t any place to park. The house was located in a semi-secluded area. Off a two-lane highway with a speed limit of like 35 miles per hour. Flanking it were two houses that looked exactly the same. They weren’t trailers, but they had the same rectangular shape as them. ‘Manufactured homes’ was what they were called. They all looked alike–the main difference in my eyes was that some of them had tin roofs and some of them had shingles.

  The trees weren’t just in the backyard, but they were boarding the entire property. It was like a natural border between them and the neighbors.

  The other side of the road was all farmland. It would’ve been easy to park there if it wasn’t for the ditch. I had plenty of time anyway, especially due to the announcement that came out last night.

  [“hey, so I’m going to be gone next week. no streams, be back streaming the following week!”]

  Francis had put out a tweet last night that he was going to be gone. Perfect news for me. That would be one obstacle out of the way. I have no clue when Francis is leaving–the only clue I have is if the car next to The Roommate’s is gone next time I come by.

  There was still one factor I had to take into account. There was the possibility that I could be observed by neighbors. The fact that there are large trees bordering most of the yard gave me confidence that I wouldn’t be spotted, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. The aerial view suggested it was, but there were gaps in between each tree—that was noticeable from the photo Francis posted of The Roommate. I can only thank that dumbass for posting that, otherwise, it would’ve taken months to find my target. Scoping around while The Roommate wasn’t around would be the only opportunity I would have to do any reconnaissance on the place. The plan was simple, but knowing the terrain could go a long way, even with something like this.

  The main obstacle, other than potentially being spotted by neighbors, was building up the gumption to do the deed. Yes, The Roommate one million percent deserved the justice I was going to dish to him, but fantasizing about it and doing it are two different things. I was shaking a little just being this close to The Roommate…well, that could also be attributed to my ailments. Either way, this wasn’t something I could just walk up to do at the moment. I would have to warm up to it. Good thing Francis was going to be gone for a while. I had a few days to rest up and mentally prepare myself. Good thing Juliet is streaming later.

  I need to get a suitcase soon…

  Not that I go on trips often, but it would be useful to have one so I could have something to roll instead of carrying all of my junk. Not that I had much to take–a week's worth of clothes (shirts of various kinds, pants (some short and some long), socks, undies, and swimming trunks) went into a bulging gym bag, while all of my toiletries and electronics went into a backpack, now swelling as well. I had way more clothes than was necessary. I’d rather have too much than too little.

  It was the night before we were supposed to drive out to the beach. I was incredibly nervous. My anxiety was ramping up. I wasn’t bracing for anything, it was just that it’s been a long time since I’ve been on one of these. Also, I always get nervous before a trip. Always have. Don’t know why. Any fear I had deep in the crevices of my brain was bound to be unfound. Michael and Dusty had everything planned out with regard to the hotel. We weren’t going to be the first ones there–Dusty was going to be arriving a few hours before us. His plane was supposed to arrive at around noon. Michael and I were planning on leaving tomorrow at around 10 AM. Enough time to get ready and go without feeling rushed. We were going to be arriving at around 3 PM (a timezone change gave us back an hour), enough time for the check-in situation to be over with.

  The drive down was going to suck, I know that. The plan was to have him drive halfway and I drive the other half. Who gets which half is still unknown. It’s a four-door sedan with enough trunk space for our luggage–whether or not his car was in good enough condition to make the trip down was a different story. It did survive a cross-country trip, so theoretically, this would be nothing for it.

  The Landlord was going to be staying at the house during the time we were gone. According to her, she’s going to arrive in the afternoon tomorrow and stay until we come back. It’s a bit more than housesitting, since she’s also going to be doing odd jobs around her property. I haven’t asked what in particular she’s ‘fixing’, but I know the back porch will be one area. She’ll probably clean the green gunk off of the siding as well. She has told me several times about a powerwasher that’s ‘ready to use’ in the shed. That might have been her way of telling me that I could do it, but I wasn’t going to do all that. I didn’t even know how to turn it on! She’ll also probably trim the trees once more, and I know her ass is cutting the grass. That’s probably a day one thing. Or a last day thing—depends on how she feels about it. I assume she’s going to sleep in the spare bedroom Michael uses as storage—I sure hope he’s kept it clean. I haven’t been in ever since I took that fighting stick. I wouldn’t doubt it if she washed the sheets before sleeping in them. She seems like that sort of person.

  With everything prepared, I took a shot of my luggage and sent a quick message to the trip group chat

  [“all set ??”]

  There wasn’t a reason why I sent it, I just felt like it. I need to have some sociability. Need to not feel too much like a stranger. Even as integrated as I am into Michael’s ‘scene’, I’m still an outsider. Hell, I don’t even think Michael has told his audience that I’m coming with him.

  [“you packed already??”]

  Michael was the only one to chime in—brother, don’t you know that we leave in 12 hours?

  Well, it was his own funeral if he wasn’t packed in time. I imagine him as someone who throws stuff in his luggage, so he could get ready in five minutes. Either way, it was tomorrow’s problem, so we’ll see.