Happy Merry Everything (Charlie Barber)

Secrets Pt. 1

Since the night you parted ways at Underdog, the players in your life were all taking part in a plot you weren't privy too. Although you admired their collective tenacity, trying to hold a conversation with the people closest to you in your life became increasingly more difficult. The temperature of every chat seemed to be in constant flux. One by one, they became more cryptic, Nina less so than others. Jules was about to give Jodie Foster in Panic Room a run for her money. You'd never seen anyone so jumpy. She was constantly checking her surroundings to make sure you weren't anywhere you could see her screen. It was amusing until it started getting the best of you. A couple of days in a row, you bought lunch thinking it could give her a push in the right direction. The gesture itself was innocent enough, but Jules saw right through your bullshit and didn't waste any time calling your bluff. No sooner than she took the first bite of pasta, she picked up a garlic knot and compared its buttery exterior to the cheeks of her ass.

"Look, I've got mad respect for you to try to get past Fort Cocks, but I got that shit locked up tight," she said, tapping her temple. "Lots of good shit up there. Secrets. Dick pics. The lyrics to "Baby Got Back". The phone number of an ugly Backstreet Boy who may or may not have been an actual Backstreet Boy that I met at Marie's Crisis. More secrets. More dick pics with even bigger dicks. The presidents in order. Real good shit. What I'm saying is this--while I appreciate you thinking you can crack the code with a fuck ton of pasta and a few pieces of garlic bread, but I'm not telling you shit. It's not happening. Call me the Go-Gos 'cause my lips are sealed. Taint too." She shoved a Charlie sized bite into her mouth, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk's. "Mext I'm border Bearatisu," she mumbled, pointing her fork at you. "Bearatisu. Bon't Dorget."

Nina was even harder to crack, but only because she made herself grossly unavailable. After all, she didn't risk spilling the beans if she didn't take her call. Every time you dialed her number, your attitude towards her walked the fine line between respect and irritation. Considering she hadn't been able to keep a secret to save her life since you were kids, you suppose you couldn't blame her for going to extremes. However, it didn't stop you from saying "coward" under your breath every time she sent you to voicemail.

Charlie, on the other hand, was a completely different beast. When it came to keeping secrets, he was in a league of his own. You were used to spending time on opposite ends of the couch, both of you working on your own devices when life called for it. However, as of late, Charlie had been much more careful about letting you see his screen. If he happened to be in a position where you could walk behind him, he was quick to lower it in order to hide whatever it was he had in play. Any other time, his screen's brightness would be lowered until it was nearly indiscernible. For a while, you found the song and dance of secrecy to be endearing, especially since it managed to spread to your friend group. Tonight you found yourself entwined with feelings of annoyance. You were starving and Charlie disappeared into the bathroom what felt like forever ago. It was nothing unusual. He liked showering off the day in the evenings before or after dinner. Nevertheless, what was curious was the fact he had been "showering" for nearly an hour; for someone energy conscious, it was downright out of character. The feeling of comfort you originally felt from sitting in your pajamas waiting for him had turned to pain; you managed to keep the same position for so long you were beginning to notice the dull ache from sitting on your tailbone. You sighed with frustration and collected the strewn takeout menus you carefully laid out for Charlie's selection and decided to take matters into your own hands. You rose from the couch and headed toward the bathroom. As you grew closer to the door, you took note of the quiet. There was no rush of water. No smell of steam lingering in the hall.

"Charlie?" you asked mildly, rapping on the door. "You okay in there, babe?" When your knocking got no response, your hand turned the knob. Empty. His towel was still lovingly folded on the counter and from the looks of it, the shower was bone dry. You were trying your best not to let your "hanger" get the best of you; the ravenous monster inside your stomach was worse than Audrey II. It ran in circles screeching, its claws out as it snarled and growled, demanding food and encouraging you to be nasty until you got it. You tried to fight it. You had waited what felt an acceptable amount of time for any rational, understanding partner, but it was no use. It was too late for logic. You were hungry and pissed and Charlie was about to get a piece of your mind.