The Last Time I Saw Richard—Chapter 2.
I turned back to look at the apartment entrance and considered leaving. Despite a nagging sense of unease my curiosity won out over my common sense; a decision that I hoped I would not regret later. Well, regret more than usual when it came to Richard that is.
Anything that had once resembled a chair was either in pieces or buried beneath piles of Richard’s crap so I just stood where I was and took in a bit more of the living room and adjoining kitchen. Among the mess there were a lot of newspaper clippings with passages underlined or circled and more of the strange images I’d first spotted scrawled on the curtains. Various photographs and pages printed from websites were strewn about but there was no sign of a computer or printer anywhere. It was then that I realized that there appeared to be no electrical items of any sort in the apartment: no TV; no microwave; no stereo; no fridge. Not even a coffee machine for fuck’s sake! Before I’d had a chance to look more closely at the clippings Richard re-entered the living room.
“Better?” he asked while posing like an amateur magician who thinks he’s just pulled off an impressive trick. He’d changed into a darker pair of jeans with fewer stains than the previous pair and was wearing an Angel & the Snake t-shirt. He’d clearly run a wet comb through his hair and beard and now resembled a cross between Charles Manson and Jesus. Which was an improvement.
“Incredible,” I replied.
His eyes narrowed briefly but he shrugged it off and pulled a packet of cheap and nasty cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lit one, drew deeply on it, and blew the smoke out of his nose.
“When did you start smoking?” I asked.
“A while ago. Particularly important tonight seeing as you made me freshen up,” he said in a half-accusatory, half-joking tone. I stared at him blankly. “The smell, remember? Need to throw them off the scent.” He laughed and rapidly tapped the side of his nose twice with his left index finger. He took another deep drag of his smoke and then dropped it into a mug of murky green liquid while gesturing that it was time to leave the apartment.
There were two front-door locks, one of which I presumed Richard had, rather inexpertly, fitted himself. He fumbled with his keys then checked and double-checked that he’d fastened them properly. We walked the few steps to the elevator and Richard pressed the down button. The numbers ticked higher and just as the elevator opened Richard dashed back to the apartment asking me to hold the doors. He checked his locks a few more times and returned to the elevator, pressing the button for the first floor once inside.
“First floor?” I queried.
“Yeah. Best to use the stairs for the last bit.” Again he double-tapped his nose, then shook his head as he regarded me with a pitying look. We travelled down in silence and once outside Richard lit another cigarette while intently surveying the immediate area.
“You got anywhere in mind?” I asked.
“Uh huh. There’s a relatively new sports bar on 76th.” He pointed vaguely up the street. “I know the owner. He’s a good guy and his place is … safe.” He then started walking in the opposite direction to that which he’d just indicated. I figured there was no point in questioning him on this, it’d only lead to more nose tapping, so I just followed his lead.
“You gonna give me any idea what this is all about, Richard? Tell me it hasn’t got anything to do with the moon landings being faked,” I joked.
“HA! That’s what they fucking want you to think,” he laughed. Then whispered “They make up and spread all that crazy conspiracy bullshit to keep us from thinking about what’s really going on. We shouldn’t talk about it here though. Wait till we get to the bar.” He paused and looked at me earnestly. “I really do appreciate you coming, man. It means a lot.”
“No problem.”
We walked the rest of the way without speaking. Richard chain-smoked while keeping a steady pace but I noticed that his eyes were constantly darting about. He took us on a rather convoluted route, stopping only once to buy some more of whatever the fuck foul brand of cigarettes he was smoking, and what should have been a 15 minute journey turned into a 45 minute trek. I was getting to the point where I reckoned even Theseus would’ve given up when he suddenly announced, “Well, here we are!”
I looked at the large flashing neon sign above the entrance and couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Seriously? Fucking seriously?! You’ve brought me to a bar called Roswell’s?”
