PSYCHOSAPIEN

17

Robin Chang pressed the button for the doorbell again. She heard, faintly, the gong-like sound of the bell ringing inside the house. The echo slowly faded, leaving a loaded silence in its wake.

She frowned.

Maybe she had the wrong place? Maybe that woman at the cafeteria had given her the wrong address just to mess with her.

She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen, bringing up the address she'd added to her 'Notes' app. It was definitely the right place. 365 Northumberland Avenue.

Maybe nobody was home.

Fuck shit motherfucker balls and poop!

She'd spent the whole day trying to get back in touch with the guy from the radio. Chuck, or whatever his name was. First, she'd caught the bus to the Sanderson University campus. She'd sat in the cafeteria where they'd agreed to meet, watching the rain spray against the window and drinking cup after cup of disgusting coffee. For some reason the word 'bilge' came to mind. Robin didn't have the faintest idea what 'bilge' meant, but it seemed an appropriate descriptor.

She waited five hours. Five shit-butting hours, and that Chuck guy never showed up!

At last she decided to give up. She went to the counter to buy a muffin for the road, hoping the muffins were slightly less bilge-y than the coffee.

"Anything else I can do for you?" said the scowling young woman behind the counter, as she handed over a cling-wrapped muffin in exchange for a crumpled five-dollar note.

"No, thanks," said Robin, pocketing the muffin. "Not unless you happen to know where Chuck Gold likes to hang out."

"Chuck Gold?" said the woman, still scowling. "Isn't he friends with that Sten guy?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Robin sensed a possible lead. "Why do you ask?"

"Pretty sure Sten's throwing a massive rager tonight." She shrugged. "If they're friends, then that's probably where he'll be."

"Oh really?" Robin felt a flare of hope. "You wouldn't happen to know the address, would you?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess." The scowling woman shrugged again. "It's on the Facebook invitation."

She showed Robin the invitation on her phone.

"Thanks!" said Robin, copying the address into her notes. "I really, really appreciate this!"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Oh and by the way, you have a really nice scowl!" Robin added. "Don't ever let some stupid guy tell you to smile!"

And with that she ran out of the cafeteria, holding tight to the cling-wrapped muffin in the pocket of her cardigan, heading speedily to the nearest bus stop.

The young woman watched her go.

"What a dork," she muttered with a scowl.

And now here she was, at Sten's house. Whoever Sten was. And now, as luck would have it, nobody was answering the door.

Robin pressed the doorbell a third time. DING-DONNNNNGGGGGG. She waited. And waited. And then the door swung open and the hottest guy she had ever seen stared down at her, eyebrows furrowed, a small frown on his gorgeous lips.

"Who the hell are you?" said the beautiful stranger.

"Are you Chuck Gold?" asked Robin.

"Am I... what? No, I'm not Chuck Gold. Chuck Gold is dead."

The unknown beefcake's words were like a smack in the face. Robin blinked. And opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Finally: