Chapter Eight

                                    

                                          
Chapter Eight
                          

                          
"You did what!" Natty exclaimed, half falling off the couch, a look if complete horror on her face. "Jesse he's your boss! You could get fired for that!"
                          
I thought about it long and hard and decided that he wouldn't fire me. He wouldn't dare when revenge is so sweet and thick in the air.
                          
"Don't worry about it, Natty. Everything is going to be A-okay. Trust me.
                          
If you can call tattooing my name and a funny on his dark places 'okay.' he's probably scrubbing himself raw right now and cursing me to hell, but the ink is kind of like the stuff they use for henna. It will be there at least a good month, possibly longer. There's not enough soap in the world to help him now.
                          
"The last time you told me to trust you, you got fired the next day," she said. "‘Don't worry about it,’ ‘I got everything under control.' I don't think there has ever been a bigger understatement."
                          
"Hey that was just rude," I said, referring to her awful impression of me. "I sound nothing like that! You made me sound like some old dude."
                          
She raised her eyebrows saying, "Hmm, close enough right?"
                          
"Don't make me kick your ass all the way down to West Seventh street," I tell her, shoving her shoulder so that she fell into the massive pile of pillows on her right.
                          
We both cracked up laughing but I still felt the need to defend myself and retain some if my honor. Like that's even possible.
                          
"And yes, I do have everything under control. I'm like George Lopez, Natty— 'I got this.’"
                          
"Right." she didn't seem too convinced.
                          
"And for the record, it is not my fault that I got fired. That guy was totally trying to hit on me--you saw how he couldn't keep his hands off of me--so I taught him a very valuable lesson. He should be thanking me right now."
                          
"He almost died," she reminded me, exasperation thick in her tone.
                          
"Um hello? Again, not my fault. What guy goes into an asthma attack while fighting a girl?"
                          
She didn't have an answer to that one.
                          
"Exactly," I say, as if there's nothing left to argue in the matter.
                          
Really, though? What guy does that? One minute I was telling him to drop dead, and the next minute he really did.
                          
Well almost. Thank god for paramedics and inhalers or else my ass would be serving time in the big house.
                          
Can people even go to jail for violently sending someone into an asthma attack? Ugh, scary. I don't want to think about it.
                          
"Still, you shouldn't have punched him. I've never seen a grown man cry so much in my life."
                          
"Whatever," I say. "He deserved it. Maybe next time he should keep his hands on his own geeky glasses instead of mine." Out of all the things wrong with that guy, his fascination with my Harry Potter spectacles was the worst. Talk about creepy.
                          
"You always resort to violence though, Jesse. Your temper is what keeps getting you in trouble." She was starting to sound a lot like Dr. Phil. I knew it was a bad idea to introduce her to daytime TV. 
                          
And maybe she is right, but who cares? I mean, what does she expect? I grew up in a world where I had to defend myself daily. Even in my sleep I had to watch for munchkins in my closet.
                          
So maybe I do have a few anger problems and vengeful tendencies. So what? I can act however I damn well please.
                          
"Don't hate, Natty, appreciate," I say rolling my eyes but not in a bitchy way. I was just teasing her.
                          
"First of all," (she got that phrase from me). “That was so ten years ago, and second, I'm so stressed right now I don't even care anymore. I could really use a smoke right now."
                          
"Hard day at work?"
                          
She nodded and brushed her bangs aside. They keep falling into her eyes.
                          
"Well today's your lucky day, hon," I said reaching into my pocket for my already rolled beauty. It was a little wrinkly and bent, but overall, it survived some very potential damage. Especially after that scene at work.
                          
Natty never questions where I get my stuff from, even though I hardly ever have any money. But I know people who know people who know people who will sell to me on credit or just out and give it to me pro bono. It's because I'm amazing.
                          
I let Natty light it and lay back against the couch, dangling my legs over the side.
                          
People always say that people who smoke weed never make anything of themselves and lose all of their inhibitions like paper planes in the wind, and maybe that's true, but that's not how I am. That's not who I surround myself with either, and my art always comes first in my life. No matter what I do you can count on me doing it while drawing.
                          
And look at Natty. She's the biggest freaking pot-head I know and also manages to carry the job of editor and writer for some big-time fashion magazine on her back. Not to mention she's super serious all the time.
                          
It's like, what’s the point in breaking the law, Natty if you're going to be so pissy? And she tells me to loosen up. Ha.
                          
"So how do you know you're not getting kicked to the curb as soon as you show up at work tomorrow?"
                          
Does she seriously doubt me and my awesome powers?
                          
"Because I know Kingsley," I say with a yawn, and then folded my hands behind my head.
                          
"You know, you've never really told me how you guys met," she said, pressing for some type of information I really didn't want to give out.
                          
I yawned again and closed my eyes. "That's because there really isn't much to say. I grew up with him from birth to the day after my twelfth birthday. A month after that you and your grandmother moved into his old house and we've been friends since."
                          
She eyed me suspiciously. I totally just flipped the story from Kingsley and me to Natty and me in like five seconds, but she didn't ask any more questions.
                          
"Hunh, I lived in his house for five years and didn't even know it," she says. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes again and stood up in complete shock. "Damn that's hot."
                          
I shoved her again. "Okay promiscuous girl, if you're done fantasizing about my boss I think I'd like to catch up on some z's."
                          
She smiled and sighed happily, "Oh alright."
                          
"Good night," I call after her when she walked away.
                          
"Sleep tight," she answered. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."
                          
"I won't," I say back, but I don't think she heard me from all the way in her bedroom.
                          
I smiled and closed my eyes. Sleep came easy.