by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 29
That evening I came home early after having dinner at that local restaurant. My girlfriends wanted to go out and have fun, but I really wasn’t in the mood to go gallivanting with Kim and company. So I headed home for a night of TV. I went in through the ocean deck side of my house. I leave the sliding doors open. No one much needs to lock up out here at Fire Island, which is nice – – another burden of city life gets to be dropped.
I made a stiff drink and took it to my bedroom. Something smelled funny as I walked in, but I couldn’t place it — until the toiled flushed. I immediately reached into my dresser for the little gun I keep, incase of emergencies like this. (A girl never knows.) The busboy walked out of the bathroom. He looked like he lost ten pounds the way he buckled his belt and farted. Then he flopped onto my bed and hit the remote.
He smiled at me: You can put the gun back in the panty drawer…I didn’t. Instead, I told him: Get the fuck out of here…He shrugged, changed channels and enjoyed the high living. Angry, I asked him: Did you fuck Cynthia?…He wasn’t even surprised: Who you talking?…Irritated, I said: Don’t bullshit me. Cynthia Groton is fifteen. Keep away from her.
He said: That girl? I meet her in New York when I work in winter. I said: So you know her…He said: Long time. Before you…He was telling me I was behind in line, so I told him: Listen to me, you cocksucker, you’re getting into big trouble fucking jailbait… Maybe he didn’t understand. He said: You no like the fish tonight?…I reached over for my remote. The busboy reached out and tried to stroke my leg.
What did you do with her this afternoon?…He slouched his shoulders and I said: Tell me now or I’ll call the police. He said: I was with her and we talk. Why you angry? Is nothing. You no need police…He reached for more again and said: You don’t talk? I think you talk a lot.
I pointed my gun at him and said: I know you were with her. What did you do?…He said: You gonna kill me from this? Mucho loco, baby…I hated it when he called me baby. Then he had the nerve to say: You put that gun away or I leave…So I decided to keep it on him and test his convictions: You fucked that little thing. Didn’t you? He said: I only want to fuck you, baby, no her.
I waved the gun and said: Get out. His reply: Cool it baby. You a fuckin’ bitch, you know that?…I must have lost my temper. I put the gun next to his ear and fired it. The little fucker got up and ran out backwards with his hands out in front of him. I said: Keep on going till you hit Mexico…And fired the gun again. He tripped, checked himself out for blood, then vanished. I picked up the remote and turned off the TV. I had already seen the Terminator. The next day at the restaurant I noticed the staff was one person short, but the service was better.
