Chapter Six (Part One)
“Rise and shine, and give God the glory, glory!” Trip jerks up in her bed, unsure that she heard what she thinks she heard. There is total silence, then she hears it again. “Rise and shine, and give God the glory, glory.” Someone is fucking singing somewhere in her apartment. Still half-asleep, Trip slides her blade out from under her pillow and is out of bed when she realizes that she’s not at home, that she’s at Vandalia’s, and that the voice she’s hearing is the hostess with the mostest as she’s taking a shower. Trip glances at the clock, sees that it’s nearly ten o’clock and decides to stay out of bed, anyway. She throws on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats and pads out into the kitchen. She pours herself a glass of orange juice and is sipping it when Vandalia bounces into the kitchen five minutes later.
“Good morning, roomie!” Vandalia chirps, her voice disgustingly perky. She is wearing sweats as well, but a red velour set that is definitely not made for sweating. She has that ‘I just got fucked’ glow that is so enjoyable to experience but so irritating to observe.
“Morning, Vandalia,” Trip says evenly, pouring herself another glass of juice. She gestures to the juice and adds, “I’ll make a Safeway run soon to replenish the stock.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Vandalia says cheerfully. “I’ll take it out in trade. The next time I need something stolen, you’ll do a freebie for me. Deal?”
“Deal.” Trip nods solemnly, though she’s sure Vandalia is joking.
“What’d you find out last night?” Vandalia pops a couple pieces of bread in the toaster to make toast. “Want some scrambled eggs? I’m making myself some.”
“No thanks,” Trip declines. She doesn’t like to eat first thing in the morning, though she knows breakfast is supposedly the most important meal.
“You have to eat something!” Vandalia burbles, cracking open a half-dozen eggs. “Your body is like a car—it’s needs to be fueled before you can drive it. Besides, I make the most gorgeous scrambled eggs you’ve ever tasted! You’ll swear off sex once you get your teeth into these.” She pauses, looking expectantly at Trip.
“No, thanks,” Trip reiterates, pouring herself another glass of juice. “I’ll grab something later.”
“You’re not dieting, are you?” Vandalia asks in mock-horror, clasping her own ample bosom. “I am sick and tired of girls trying to whittle away into nothing. Size zero! Literally disappearing. I mean, look at me! I’m big, and I’m gorgeous!” She thrust out her bosom proudly before returning to her eggs.
“I’m not dieting,” Trip shrugs, returning the orange juice to the refrigerator. “I just don’t eat in the morning.”
“I bet you work out, though,” Vandalia says, sneaking a quick look at Trip. “Look at those pipes on you! Girl can take care of herself, I bet!” That doesn’t seem to be a question, so Trip doesn’t answer. “Well, I know I can’t get going in the morning if I don’t eat a hearty breakfast. Screw cholesterol, that’s what I say.” Trip says it, too, in moderation. She’s not the type to nibble on a lettuce leaf or to have a salad with dressing on the side for lunch. She’s a healthy woman with a healthy appetite—just not first thing in the morning.
“I gotta roll. See ya.” Trip is almost out of the kitchen when Vandalia’s voice stops her.
“I got the Chron if you want to read it. It’s on the coffee table in the living room.” Trip makes a detour to check out the paper before taking a shower. She wants to see if there’s anything else on Sylvian’s murder, though she suspects that it’s: a) not big enough news to warrant further coverage and b) being covered-up, anyway. She is right; there is nothing further about Sylvian’s murder. To her surprise, however, there is another murder relevant to her sorry-ass life. Evelyn Sato, found dead in her apartment, the police tipped by an ‘anonymous’ phone call. Continue Reading