Ad Nauseam - By C. W. LaSart Page 0,41

met. Chad figured she really did love Elliot, but she needed more than what just one guy could give her. Maybe her daddy had been too distant, maybe mommy had shown her love with gifts rather than affection, blah, blah, blah.

Maybe she was just a slut.

It shouldn’t matter. She was Elliot’s problem. Chad had felt a mixture of relief and remorse when she’d told him last night they couldn’t see each other anymore, that she wanted to try to be a good wife. He wanted her to be good to Elliot, and it killed him a little inside every time they fucked around behind his friend’s back, but he would miss the sex.

“Fuck you, Sasha.”

***

Chad stood up from the bench. His eyes scanned the shadows for movement, hyper-aware of his expensive clothes and the cash bulging in his wallet. Sobered, he gathered his bearings and turned back the way he came. He considered calling a cab, but figured he couldn’t be too far from where he’d left his car.

After several blocks, Chad came across a small storefront, its lights shining out of a dirty front window adorned with a painted sign that read “Pawnshop.” Looking at his watch, he saw it was going on midnight, but a sign on the door indicated that it was open.

What the fuck? This wasn’t here before. He stopped to peer in the window, but the filth made it hard to see what was within.

Chad tried the door, certain it would be locked, that someone just forgot to flip the sign, but it opened easily. A bell tinkled as he walked in, announcing his arrival to an empty front desk.

“Hello? Is there anyone here?” Chad looked around at piles of junk stacked on shelves and the floor. A heap of jewelry lay scattered across broken toys; tools were mixed with kitchen wares. It would be impossible for the owner to know what he had in inventory. A thief’s wet dream, if any of the shit was even worth anything.

“Just a moment.” A frail voice called out from behind a room-length curtain that divided the shop from the back.

Chad picked up a balloon-like object that resembled a hot water bottle made of heavy, discolored rubber, with an unusual nozzle attached to a long hose that disappeared into the neck.

“Douche bag.” A man’s voice said, directly behind him. Startled from his inspection, Chad whirled around, and dropped the balloon. It landed on the concrete floor with a slap.

“Excuse me?” Chad said, offended.

“It’s a douche bag.”

Chad wiped his hand on his pant leg in disgust. “Who the hell would want a used douche bag?” Chad asked.

“You would be surprised what people come in here looking for. I don’t judge.” The old man winked at Chad and made his way across the floor slowly, settling on a stool behind the desk. “What can I help you with?”

“Me? Nothing, I guess. I just saw you were open and thought I’d check the place out. Why are you open so late?”

“My hours are never set, a perk of owning the place. I also suffer from insomnia something terrible lately. What can I show you?”

The old man leaned his elbows on the table. His eyes, like dark chips of glass, sparkled in his wizened face. Frizzy white hair formed a halo around his spotted head and his skin was dark. The man’s shrewd gaze bored through Chad, making it hard to maintain eye contact.

“I don’t need anything. Like I said, I just happened upon the place . . . ”

“Everyone needs something, son. Sometimes we just don’t know what it is.” The man retrieved a gnarled looking pipe from a drawer, filling the bowl with dark, oily looking tobacco from a dish on the desk. As he smoked, the room filled with an acrid, sweet smell that made Chad’s head swim, bringing back his drunk with a rush.

“You got troubles, boy. It’s written all over your face.”

Chad opened his mouth in denial, ready to flee back onto the street, away from the strange shop and the stranger old man with his trinkets and used feminine hygiene products. Instead, he found himself confessing. It all came out in a rush. The old guy just sat and smoked, nodding encouragement as the tale unraveled from their childhood friendship to their high school hijinks. The man passed no judgment as Chad admitted to his life-long jealousy of Elliot, and the way he had lived in his best friend’s shadow for so many years.

When Chad got