"Look at them all, standing out there," said the passenger. "Bunch of faggots." Then he laughed, a weird, drunken laugh that hung in the air for a moment. The corner of his mouth twitched a little, and he fell back into his seat.
"I thought it was only six blocks," said David, the boy behind the wheel.
The passenger didn't look at him, but nodded his head hard up and down. "Yes it is," he said. "Six blocks."
"C'mon, man, we've been like twelve since I picked you up."
The passenger ignored him. "Hey, can I smoke in your car?"
"No way," said David. "I'm taking you home, and you've giving me directions. That's it."
They came to another light that was just turning red. Their car stopped, and David waited.
"Turn here," said the passenger, almost as an afterthought. "Go up this hill, and follow the road around." So David did. They were passing some beautiful houses now, ornate and historic looking. The streets were dark and very quiet.
"You know, this is just between you and me," said the passenger, as he pulled down the mirror above his seat, but turned to stare at David. "I work for one of those gay and lesbian groups. I'm a lawyer."
David seemed unimpressed. "Which one?" he asked. "The Human Rights Campaign?"
"No, no," said the passenger. "It's another one. I handle lots of stuff for them."
They came to the end of the road, and the passenger pointed ahead. "Hey, up here there's a shortcut. Drive through the parking lot, and turn right at the yellow building with the red roof. It's a barbecue place. They've got the best barbecue in town. I should know, I used to work there, too."
David did as he was told, and the parking lot came out on a street lined with tall apartment buildings.
"Here we are," said the passenger. "Park anywhere."
David pulled up behind a lime green VW bug, one of the shiny new ones. The license plate read "2LEGO".
His passenger hopped out, and David got out too. Coming down the sidewalk towards them was a group of two boys and girl, walking a dog. They were laughing. The passenger got right up behind them, and started asking questions, loudly. "It is a girl dog? What's her name? I hope you have a bag with you, in case she has to go. I'm always stepping in dog shit around here, that happened to me the other day when I was walking to catch my bus."
That made them all laugh harder, but they started walking a little faster down the sidewalk. When they had crossed the street, the passenger turned to David and said, "What'd you think of that?"
David tried to ignore him. "Which apartment's yours?"
"She was hot," said the passenger. "I'd do her. C'mon, it's right up here."
They got to the door and David paused. He immediately noticed the newspapers piled up, still in their plastic bags. And several empty glass bottles sitting next to a pile of phone books, plus a white garbage bag with two red handle ties pulled tight, but not tied. In the light from the outside lamp, David could see bugs flying around the top of the garbage bag. But he went inside anyway.
Inside the apartment, things were a much bigger mess. There were empty wine bottles everywhere. And beer cans stacked up in a wall behind a giant TV screen, which was on, a commercial playing, the volume muted. Books and magazines were piled on chairs and on the floor, and CD's and dirty clothes were strewn about haphazardly. Everywhere David looked he could see little pieces of paper, and other bits of actual junk, like empty wrappers, potato chip bags, even plates with dried-on food scraps, all mixed in with the rest of the clutter. The only things not in disarray were several reproductions of old movie posters stapled up to the walls, and David's eyes fell on one that read "La Dolce Vita," in bright red and purple colors, with a picture of a pretty woman in a sixties-looking dress.
His passenger was in the kitchen by now, rummaging through drawers. He came back out, smiled at David, and held out a glass container filled with nuts.
"Do you want some almonds?"
David shook his head. "I tell you what, man," said David. "Just show me where your computer is, and I'll look up the directions. You've got a printer, right?"
The passenger laughed. "God, I'm so fucking wasted right now. Good thing you came along and gave me a ride. Never would have made it back here by myself."
David just looked at him, and waited.
"Oh yeah," said the passenger. "My laptop’s right here," he said, and motioned towards a desk piled high with more junk.
There wasn’t a chair, so David had to bend over a little. Underneath a stack of papers and magazines, he spotted an expensive-looking laptop.
"You can sit on the bed if you want," said the passenger. It was a king-size bed, and it took up half of the room.
"No thanks," said David. "You got a chair?"
"No chair," said the passenger. This made him giggle.
"Whatever," said David. His legs already hurt from all the work he’d done earlier in the day, and now he was trapped in some rich, alcoholic slob’s apartment, trying to dig out a laptop that probably cost more than his own car from beneath a pile of the slob’s garbage, just so he could find some goddamned Mapquest directions back to his hotel. It was past two o’clock by now, for chrissakes.
"You can turn it on, but there’s no printer," said the passenger.
David paused for a second. "What?"
"My printer needs more ink," the passenger replied. "It’s totally out of ink. But I got a map around somewhere. We can look it up."
"No, I’ll write them down," said David. "The directions from Mapquest."
The passenger gave him a pen that said "Royal Crown Apartments" along one side, and David opened the laptop.
"Do you want to smoke?" asked the passenger, and sat down on his bed. "I’ve got some weed. I haven’t smoked any in over a year. It’s still good."
David shook his head.
"Look, I’ve even got a piece," said the passenger, and held out his hand. In his palm was a small, glass-blown pipe colored with swirls of dark blue and aquamarine.
David shook his head again. He pulled up the Mapquest site and typed in the address for his hotel, on I street, Southeast. The passenger had told him when he got in the car his address was 2527 Kensington Street, Northeast. David looked at the results and wrote everything down. The passenger sat on his bed the whole time.
"I never told you my name," said the passenger.
David ignored him.
"It’s Morgan," said the passenger. "Morgan Adams," he said, and fell back on his bed, giggling wildly.
"Nice to meet you," said David, and walked out of the bedroom, through the front room, and then out the apartment’s front door. Driving back to his hotel, he realized he’d left the handwritten directions lying next to the laptop. It was a lot further than six blocks before he noticed.
