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THE THIN SHROOM LINE

T he day continues so innocently—a mix of Timmy’s childlike excitement, and a hurried announcement to his boss.

“We’re engaged!” he exclaims.

She quirks a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Engaged? How long have you two been dating? Like 24 hours?” She glances at me and says “Congratulations!” But there’s a question mark in her voice, almost a look of sympathy.

“Ten days, but when you’re in love, you’re in love! Plus,” babbles Timmy, “she gives me twenty blowjobs a day.”

“Twenty!” smirks his boss. “That’s quite a lot of daily blowjobs.”

I feel myself turn red, in disbelief he’s discussing BJs with his boss. Definitely a no-no from an HR perspective, but I guess that’s not for me to worry about. “He’s exaggerating,” I add, awkwardly.

“Am I, though?” He winks at me. “I think yesterday it might have actually been twenty.” He turns to his boss. “Oh my god, and she’s a really, really good cook.”

Once we leave the office, Timmy gets even more excited. “Ooh, let’s have an engagement celebration!” He starts texting friends, and even invites his manager and her husband .

He kisses me, a long one with tongue that takes me by surprise. “We’ll go to Dock Bar where we first met in person! It’ll be romantic!”

I’d hoped for a quiet, intimate evening, but he keeps texting more and more people, clearly hoping some will join to share our excitement.

“Okay,” I laugh. “I don’t have anyone to invite, though.”

“That doesn’t matter!” he says. “It’ll just be a small, low-key thing.”

We dress up and get to Dock Bar.

“Who else is coming?” I ask.

“Nobody seems to be able to make it,” he frowns, barely concealing his frustration.

“That’s okay,” I say. “It’s very short notice. You’re literally inviting people same-day on a weeknight.”

Timmy nods, but then frowns. “Shit, I meant to ask my boss if she’d mind paying me a few days early.”

He taps at his phone and keeps checking it every few minutes.

“Ugh, she’s not replying. I bet she’s going to say no.”

He seems agitated until his phone finally dings. He frowns again. “She fucking said no. I don’t know why she’s being like this. It’s not a big deal. She can afford to pay me early. I just wanted her to give me a little bit of an advance. The truth is, I’m not going to have enough to cover our drinks, let alone food. I don’t want you to pay for our engagement party, especially when it was my idea. It doesn’t seem right.”

Then his eyes grow wide, as if a lightbulb is going off in his brain. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“Timmy, where are you?—.”

“Be right back, I said. Trust me.” He kisses me on the top of my head and zooms out of the restaurant, leaving me alone at the bar.

About fifteen minutes later, he returns with an average-looking guy, friendly enough, but with an energy that makes me slightly uneasy. “This is my old boss, Parker,” he introduces us. “He lives right around the corner, and he’s a good friend of mine.”

Parker grins and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you. ”

“Nice to meet you too,” I smile.

While Parker orders himself a drink, Timmy leans in and explains Parker is going to pick up the tab for our ‘engagement celebration.’ He also mentions that Parker has just taken shrooms.

I feel wary. Nobody else has agreed to meet us for this engagement party.

The bartending team is really nice, and they comp Timmy and I saucers of champagne, congratulating us, but I can’t help but notice the weird looks a couple of them shoot my way.

I’m a little confused as to why Parker was randomly invited to our celebration—Timmy has only had negative things to say when he’s mentioned him previously—but I figure he lives close by.

I’m also suspecting it’s because Timmy’s boss said she couldn’t pay him today, and, as it’s beginning to become clear, Timmy has absolutely no more money than what he earns from day to day. So, Parker must be willing to pick up the tab.

After settling our tab, we all walk to my apartment and take a seat on the floor. “Oh, I have some furniture you could have that would fit nicely in here,” says Parker.

“Oh really? That would be awesome! Thank you so much,” I smile. “People are so generous here helping with apartment setups.”

“You should take my number, too,” he says, giving me his details. “Just in case you need to talk to someone other than Timmy. Because you probably will.”

It’s kind of weird, the way he worded things, but he’s right in pointing out I don’t really have any friends here yet other than Timmy. Having a backup emergency number seems sensible. It doesn’t seem like he’s being creepy, although the way he winks to emphasize the point makes my skin prickle. I smile politely, hoping it’s just his sense of humor.

We chat for a while, and then all of a sudden the tone changes. There’s a weird energy between Timmy and Parker. They suddenly start getting snippy with each other over basically nothing—something about whether Parker got fired or whether he voluntarily left, and whether they were peers or if Parker was Timmy’s supervisor, and then it turns into a full-blown, heated argument.

Parker storms out of the apartment, and about twenty minutes later, Timmy and I glance over and see Parker’s keys looped around one of the kitchen cupboard handles. He calls Parker and puts him on speaker, and Parker starts screaming and swearing at Timmy. “You’re such a fucking loser asshole, stealing my keys. Bring them here, you fucking thief!”

We walk back toward Parker’s house, and Parker calls me. “Where are you guys?”

“Almost to your place. Can you walk and meet us halfway?”

“Maybe. Put Timmy on the phone,” he demands.

I say “okay,” and then give the phone to Timmy.

All of a sudden, Parker starts screaming at Timmy, calling Timmy a ‘loser thief’ and hurling insults that are just cruel. Timmy screams back, which seems justified. I’m defensive of Timmy, and Parker’s shrieking is throwing me off. I’m not sure what provoked it—their argument seemed relatively benign and kind of out of nowhere.

We walk all the way back to Parker’s apartment, but he’s not there. So Timmy finds a place on the hood of Parker’s car where he can discreetly tuck in the keys. It’s not a long walk, but by the time we get there, I feel emotionally drained. It’s not feeling like much of a celebration.

I think the situation is over, until my phone buzzes. I start receiving a series of messages from Parker on my phone.

His texts are full of rage, his words twisting into threats. Photos appear, and to my shock, they’re selfies of Parker. I realize with horror that he’s still hanging out in my building’s lobby.

FUCK.

Parker:

I’m going to mess this place up big time.

You’ll be very sorry for fucking with me.

Me:

I didn’t fuck with you though?

I don’t understand. Please don’t do this, whatever this is.

Parker:

You stole my keys, you fuckers.

Me:

Parker, you left the keys at my apartment and we just took them to you.

But you’re saying you’ve been at my apartment building all this time?

Why didn’t you just tell us you were still there?

Parker:

Nah, fuck you guys. You’re going to pay.

I feel a cold sweat prickle in my neck as I read the texts, my hands trembling.

We rush back, and Parker is still in the apartment lobby, refusing to leave.

Oh my fucking god, why did Timmy invite this crazy man into my apartment? This is insane.

I call the police, and Timmy looks more than a little panicked as the sirens approach. “See you in a bit,” he yells. “I’ll explain later.”

He runs off, leaving me standing here wondering what the hell is going on, even more than before, alone as the police arrive.

What the actual fuck?

I explain everything, mortified and apologizing profusely. “I’m really sorry—I feel ridiculous calling you out here. It’s just… I don’t know what’s going on with Parker. I don’t know him. My fiancé brought him here and then he just started acting crazy.” My cheeks are burning. My uncle, a career officer, would be rolling in his grave if he knew what was happening right now.

“No, no,” a female officer says, her face kind. “This is what we’re here for.”

Parker comes running past, chased by two officers. “Timmy O’Malley has a warrant out for his arrest!” he yells. “He’s the one you should be looking for!”

“What’s that about?” the officer asks, glancing at me. “Who’s Timmy O’Malley?”

“My fiancé,” I explain.

“He has an outstanding warrant?” She quirks a brow.

I shrug. “Not that I’m aware of. I don’t know anything about that.”

A while later, the cops leave, promising to file a report and confirming that Parker is banned from the premises for the next seventy-two hours.

I dial Timmy’s number, my hands shaking. I’m so upset that he ran away and I just don’t understand.

A girl's voice answers the phone. “Hello?”

Again, what the actual fuck?

“He’s a really nice guy, and he’s getting blamed for things that aren’t his fault,” she says, before abruptly hanging up.

I text him:

Me:

You’re hanging out with some random girl?

You left me when I called the cops?

You told me to let someone into my apartment who then tried to ruin it?

Timmy! I just moved in! This is so embarrassing and I’m so confused.

Timmy:

I’m so so sorry. I’ll be back soon.

I’ll explain everything, I promise.

I don’t know who the girl is, a bunch of teenagers just saw I was upset and she grabbed my phone.

I was so mad when she did that.

Can you meet me down a side street so we walk back in together?

Me:

Of course.

A knot of anger tightens in my chest. I’ve just had to call the police on my first full week in this new neighborhood. The only impression I’ve managed to make so far is of someone who can’t handle my own friends—or my fiancé’s, at least.

He sends me a pin with his location, and I walk to meet him. He’s a couple of blocks away, and I meet him down a side street.

“I’m so sorry,” he hugs me to him, kissing the top of my head.

I feel numb.

“I freaked out,” he explains. “There’s a warrant, and it’s for a traffic thing, and I really didn’t want them to look me up and arrest me.”

“But you left me with the cops by myself,” I frown. “That’s awful. It’s your friend that came and threatened to damage my home. And you abandoned me.”

I had an ex with a warrant once. Some concealed weapons charge. That guy got really twitchy about that, too, whenever he was around cops. But still, it feels wrong that Timmy ran away and left me to deal with this by myself.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I feel so bad about that. I’ve seen Parker be a bit weird from time to time, but he’s never threatened to break someone’s stuff or get violent like that. I don’t know what was up with him. Maybe he was doing a bunch of drugs before we met up or something, because that’s not how he normally acts. I’d never have invited him around if it was. I know he'd been taking shrooms. ”

“Well, I feel like I’m at risk of getting kicked out of my apartment. I’ve been here less than two weeks and I’ve already had the cops come to the property. They’re going to think I’m a problem tenant.”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “It was a one-off, I promise you. There’s no way we’ll invite Parker over again. I won’t invite anyone over again except for myself.”

“Who was the girl who answered your phone?”

“There were some teenagers on the beach. They saw me crying, and they just sat with me once I told them what happened. ”

“She seemed to know you.”

“I know. I was so upset when she grabbed my phone. I don’t know her, or why she acted like she knew who I was. They were just all hanging out and were trying to help me to not be upset. They felt sorry for me.”

I sigh, feeling incredibly deflated. “Okay. I’m so embarrassed about all of this.”

“I know. I’m really, really sorry. Can we just go inside quickly and have a nice night? I don’t want to think about this anymore. I just want to get up to the room and cuddle with you and forget this all ever happened. I’m really sorry about Parker. I can’t believe he did that. I just want to not think about it anymore.”

“Okay. Yeah, let’s just go inside.”

We slink past the concierge, and they give us a look that says everything. The sort of judgment that makes me shrivel into a tiny ball—like I’ve brought chaos into a place that would otherwise have been calm.

“Ugh, did you see that look he just gave us?” I ask Timmy, as we ride up in the elevator, his hand clenched tight around mine.

He frowns. “Yeah, I did. What a dick. And I’m very sorry.” He pulls me to him and kisses me on the head. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Later in the night, as I lay next to Timmy, trying to forget everything that happened earlier, my phone dings again. Parker has left a voicemail.

“Call me if you fucking need help,” he slurs. “I know you do.”

Another message comes through shortly after.

Parker:

I hope you’re alive. Still, I really hope you’re alive.

I don’t reply. He texts again, still nonsensical.

Parker:

Yeah, one moment. Well I’m still here. Should I make some noise?

Wanna fuck around? So where are my keys? Or should I just call the cops?

I sigh and text him back.

Me:

Parker. We were by your house and your keys are at your car now.

Not sure what you’d need to call them for.

You left your keys at my house and we brought them to you.

Parker:

I’ve got no fucking problem. Timmy’s the one who’s got a few cases.

There are government keys on that chain. This isn’t going to end well.

It’s funny, you were the only one with a problem.

A few more minutes go by.

Parker:

Funny I know the property manager.

Someone couldn’t show up to voice his opinions.

Oh you got a warrant. Come fuck with this castle.

Glad I bought drinks. Good night everyone.

With a sigh, I turn my phone off, which I rarely do, wanting nothing more than to sink into sleep and pretend this entire nightmare didn’t happen. But I can’t shake the feeling that, no matter how much Timmy promises otherwise, we’ve somehow brought chaos to Sunset Cay, and it’s not going to let go of us anytime soon.