Snarky Bastard Read online

  “Oh, yeah, ok. Fuck her.” She’s only one of the many girls I got laid with last month. Some of them don’t get it right off the bat, and despite being always clear with them, they sometimes try to get in touch anyway. That’s never going to happen, though. I don’t date women. I fuck them. Only once. That’s my rule.

  “It’s good to know how much you love your women after all.” My sister squeals sarcastically before going back sitting at her desk in the small but very trendy lobby.

  “Yeah, it’s great to know I have a cool sister reminding me that all the time!” I growl.

  “Shut up Zac!” I hear her squeaking.

  At the end of the session, my eyes ache and I feel dizzy. I need to go lift some weights at my building’s gym. There is a lot of machinery I don’t have in my loft, so I often use that too. But before that, I need to do something important.

  “Alright, Chelsea I’m outta here. Gonna visit dad. You coming?” I tell my sister while grabbing my black leather jacket.

  “Oh yeah, Zac!” She frowns. Her eyes get watery. “I’ll go a little later ok?”

  “Sure. See ya tomorrow.” I groan, before stepping out of the shop.

  “Ok see ya!” She squeals.

  ***

  It’s almost twilight. I’m standing in front of my father’s grave. Today’s been five years since he died, alone in his house. My mother left him for another man when I was a teenager and I think my dad never really recovered from that. He took care of me and Chelsea, but he wasn’t the same man anymore. “Women are all a bunch of whores, don’t ever fall in love or they’ll screw your entire life.” He’d tell me when my sister wasn’t present.

  I didn’t want to believe him. Women were not like he said. He couldn’t be right. But one day when I was a high school freshman I did fall in love. My first love.

  We dated and spent time together almost every day. Until one day she left me without explanation like my mom did with my dad.

  “I’m sorry Zac, I think we better stay friends,” she had said. A tear glided down one of her plump smooth cheeks.

  “But why? I love you, Kate!” I frowned.

  “I’m sorry Zac,” she repeated, just before standing and running away.

  I was left on that bench, alone. I cried for days and I skipped school for a week. But then something changed.

  ‘I don’t wanna end up like dad.’

  I didn’t want to die alone, heartbroken, with two children to raise. I promised myself that would have never happened to me. Never.

  I started enjoying life in every possible way, and that meant girls too. I made the oath of never getting involved again. I’d never fall for a woman again. From that day I’ve become smooth with women and careless. And the funny thing was the more indifferent I was, the more girls I seemed to attract. Wow, that’s awesome! I thought at the time. None of them ever got me into a romantic kind of way though. I have always managed to put a wall between me and them, and I completely sealed my heart.

  I crouch on the ground and touch the white stone. There’s a thin layer of dirt on it. My eyes get watery. I swallow my own saliva feeling a notch in my throat.

  “You said it right daddy.” I murmur. “Never trust women. Never fall in love,” I repeat his words.

  “Rest in peace. I love ya dad.” I slowly get up and stand, staring at the grave for a few seconds; then I leave.

  I take the subway to get back home. A couple of teenagers are joking around, loudly and annoyingly, but my mind is elsewhere. Before getting into my building I stop at ‘D’Agostino’ to get fruit and vegetables. Once in my loft, I change outfit and head down to the building’s gym. I start with half an hour on the treadmill, and then I attack the weight training machines. I’m sweating profusely, and I feel the urge to take off my T-shirt, remaining with my torso exposed. Is there something wrong with the air conditioning? I wonder, annoyed by the unusual heat.

  I lay on the pectoral bench and I grab the bar lowering it on my chest and lifting it up and down for ten reps. I do it three times with a few seconds break between one series and the other. Then I stand. My breath catching. My pectorals red and swollen.

  I grab my power drink and I chug it thirstily, smacking my lips satisfyingly afterward, and when I turn to use the ‘lat–machine’, I see her.

  ‘Shit!’

  Grace is walking on a treadmill, apparently reading something, and she doesn’t seem to have noticed me. I don’t want to talk to her. I’ve been polite against my nature this morning.

  Knowing I completely don’t care about that bitch, I walk nonchalantly past the treadmill she’s using, and without even looking at her I blurt, “Weren’t ya supposed to be at work?”

  Grace

  When I took the subway to go to work, Nick called me and told me they were going to be closed this evening due to a huge problem they just had in the kitchen’s machinery.

  “Oh ok, I can’t deny I’m a little happy about it.” I giggle.

  “I know, you are lucky!” Nick jokes. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

  I take my time and I decide to enjoy the day. When I get back home in the late afternoon, I get my feet wet with the gym in my building. I jump on a treadmill and I start reading a digital book while strolling on it at a medium pace when suddenly, I hear someone groaning, “Weren’t ya supposed to be at work?”

  I instinctively look up, and there he is. Zac walks by the treadmill without even looking at me.

  I grumble.

  ‘I can’t believe I keep running into this jerk!’.

  “You again! Jeez are you stalking me or what?” I mumble.

  He chuckles gripping the machine for the lats muscles, facing me with his back. When he pulls the bar down his rear muscles tense and ripple. The wings of hard flesh on the sides of his torso tighten and stretch at each repetition, and the thin layer of sweat on his body makes them gleaming, enhancing their shape. I can’t deny I’m impressed. When he’s done with his exercise he turns and locks his magnetic eyes on mine.

  “I could say the same thing,” he groans.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that!” I snortle. “You can rest assured that’s not gonna happen. Not over a million years,” I smirk.

  “Good.” He says, turning back to his exercise stretching his inked arms and gripping the bar above his head. “But you still didn’t answer my question,” he cringes and grunts yanking the bar down.

  “What?” I feel rage running into my blood. I barely know him.

  “I don’t have to answer your questions. So please mind your business!” I blurt.

  He finishes his reps and then he stands, his shoulders are wide and seem to be sculpted on marble. Zac walks toward me with a serious expression and stops a few inches from the mill. I can smell his sweat and I unexpectedly feel my lips dry.

  ‘Jeez.’

  “I asked you a simple question. There’s no need to be rude.” He says with a cold calm. His jaw clenched. His blue eyes piercing me.

  I’m taken aback and I’m afraid I may have crossed the line.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to sound rude. It’s just…I…” I stammer.

  “Jeez I don’t know, I’m a little stressed out lately. That’s it.” I tell him all in one breath.

  He keeps his glance on me without talking, and after a few seconds, he says, “No problem. Shit happens to everybody.”

  I’m almost relieved he didn’t get too mad but then unexpectedly and emotionlessly he says, “But don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

  My heart races. I don’t know this man and there’s no need to risk it. After all, I was the one who was rude in the first place. He may have been snarky, but I lost my temper. However, I’m not going to apologize again. I look away without replying. I feel his breath on my forearm for a few seconds and then I see him stepping away with the corner of my eyes.

  My pulse slowly gets back to normal but when I see him on a far corner of the gym, I rapidly turn the treadmill off and leave. I make s
ure he’s still in the room when I step out the door and I run toward the elevator. When I’m in my temporary apartment I exhale relieved locking the thick front door from the inside, but I frown and my heart thunders as I realize I left my phone on the treadmill.

  Zac

  ‘Damn! I can’t believe this’s happened to me.’

  My biceps flex, gleaming in front of the mirror where the dumbbells shelf rack is. That woman is a pain in the ass! I can’t believe she lives in my fucking building. What did I do so wrong? Probably I’m not ‘Mr. nice guy’ but I didn’t do anything bad to her. I saw her in the mirror when she left, all in a damn rush. I didn’t even want to act so harshly but fuck! She needs to show some respect. She’s the typical girl who needs a good fuck, she’s been probably repressed for months, if not years. Too bad for her she’s like that, otherwise I might have given her a sex lesson like I’m sure nobody ever did before.

  I’m so angry that I manage to lift much more weight than usual. The veins on my biceps are turgid and swollen, and my muscles are all glossy and pumped. I grimace into the mirror making a last effort to finish one more rep. I’m exhausted and I drop the iron dumbbells on my sides. They thump on the floor without budging an inch. My breath is short, and I take huge gulps of air.

  I recoup for a few seconds and then I head to the exit. I can’t wait to take a hot shower and eat a good dinner. The gym is almost empty. Aside from a romantic couple, exercising on the yoga mats. I grab my towel and wipe my sweat. My pulse slowly returns to normal and when I stroll by the treadmill where Grace had been working out, I see something laying on its dashboard. It’s her phone.

  I instinctively take a step forward and without thinking twice I grab it and I swipe it open. It doesn’t require a password to get to her applications and in a matter of seconds, I’m on her Facebook’s account. Grace Angela Lords, it’s her full name.

  I chuckle looking at her pictures. She’s hot, I think. Her body is slightly curvy but well proportioned. She lays on a beach chair with her legs behind her bent and crossed in the air, timidly biting her thumb and smirking playfully. I feel tingles of lust run up my spine and I shake my head, disappointed by my reaction.

  As I rapidly scroll down, I linger on one picture, probably taken on a vacation in some exotic place. She’s hugging a man, and beside them, there is another couple their age. That must have been an ex-boyfriend of hers, I assume from the comments below.

  A girl named Lisa writes: ‘He’s an asshole, he doesn’t deserve you.’

  Another girl, Kelly says: ‘Don’t even think you can’t find a better one! Love ya dear!’

  At the very bottom, after several comments, Grace writes: ‘By the way, this is the only one picture I’ll keep here. I need to remind myself not to be fooled again.’

  ‘Shit, she must have been hurt pretty bad.’ I need to rush up, she could come down to get her phone back anytime. Before closing Facebook, my attention gets caught by her general info.

  ‘Your profile is 70% complete. Update now?’ It says. I’m too curious and I quickly click on her general data.

  Works at: Academic Researcher

  Studies: Ph.D. in Genetic Science.

  “Holy fucking shit!” I mutter. So why is she working at a fucking restaurant? I’m about to turn off the screen and put the phone back on the treadmill when a WhatsApp message pops up. I instantly realize it’s the girl who wrote on Facebook: Lisa.

  I shrug, and I stretch my arm to lay the phone where it was, but I hesitate for a second before I instinctively push my thumb on the little round icon.

  ‘Just wanted to know if you saw the guy next door again. Take a snap! I wanna see this hottie!’

  I shake my head grinning. I can’t leave this message on her phone though because I already opened it, and I definitely don’t want a stranger meddling with me. So, I press my thumb on it for a second, and when a little window with a few possible choices appears on the upper right of the screen, I click on the little trash icon and delete it. However, when I’m about to put the phone back, I can’t help noticing: ‘NY-LISA’ on her contacts.

  I rapidly open it and I realize it’s the password to her apartment. I know that because I live in the same building and although they differ from one another, they are very similar in their numerical logic. Yet, it’s not difficult to remember it, but she might have simply thought it’d be safer to keep it on her smartphone.

  After laying the phone on the treadmill’s dashboard, I walk out and go back to my crib. As soon as I step in, I take off my sneakers and socks leaving them in the hallway and I thump on the wood floor heading to the bathroom. I turn the shower on, and hot sprinkles of steamy water patter down the tub. I take off my black training pants along with my underwear and toss them down.

  I can’t help thinking of that girl. I don’t know what happened in my mind, but I see her from a whole different perspective now.

  The way she acts. Her attitude. Her cute and sexy face. Her hot slightly curvy body. The fact she’s a scientist for God’s sake!

  ‘Damn it!’

  Why the hell does she live here? I think. Now I’m going to have to do something about it. I’ll have to make her mine.

  Grace

  Today is particularly gloomy so I’m sitting on a table at Starbucks with my laptop and a hot ‘Latte’ on its side. I chuckle thinking about the other day. Zac wasn’t in the gym when I ran down to get my phone back, but I smelled a trail of his odor that made me sigh with lust as soon as I stepped out of the elevator.

  I regret having gotten defensive with him like that. I’m not a bitch. I’ve never been. But after what happened a few months ago it’s like I have been using a shield to protect me from potential suffering. I know this shouldn’t be the way to go but the scar is still fresh. I’m sorry though that I’m not giving other men the slightest chance to show me they can be different. ‘Or can’t they?’

  Suddenly I feel wistful and sad. Maybe Zac is a very good guy and he was only trying to be friendly. In his own way.

  I probably overreacted, making him look like an asshole, when he may simply be just a smooth and cool fellow. After my experience, I should know better to beware of the ‘good’ guys. That loser I was about to marry looked everything but a bad boy, but in the end, he carelessly betrayed me.

  ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover!’ I repeat in my mind.

  I might be speculating, but I’ll never know for sure if I don’t do something about it. It’s not like I suddenly want him to ask me out or something, but I feel guilty for my uptight behavior. I can’t blame him for telling me not to talk like that to him anymore. I would have done the same.

  ‘I’m sorry Zac. I’m not the fucking bitch you saw these days!’ I think regretfully. ‘And you are hot damn it! You are the hottest guy I’ve ever seen on this planet.’

  Jeez, I finally admitted to myself. That guy sent tingles through my body since the night I met him. Why have I been so sulky and bitchy?

  I shake my head slowly before I get back to my laptop. All the academic positions I’m looking for are taken. But I keep going through their websites to see if any of those has become vacant, while all the same, I apply sending my resume for future reference.

  At one point a Facebook notification pops up on the bottom right of my laptop’s screen – I have to remember to turn them down, I remind myself, annoyed by the interruption – saying a profile named I Love Grace asked me to accept a message. I bite my lip and raise my eyebrow, but I’m too curious about it and I open it up.

  This person, whoever may be, has posted a black plain dark background with two bright eyes in the middle, as a profile picture. It’s kind of creepy, and when I read the message my heart skips a beat.

  ‘Don’t everthink I don’t know every step you take. Our moment will come very soon.’

  ‘Jesus Christ! If this is a joke he better cut it out or I’ll go fucking straight to the police!’

  “Shit!” I rumble.

  Two gu
ys sitting on the table next to mine stop talking and look at me for a second. I turn and let out an awkward smile. “These damn statistics… It’s hard!” I squeal. They look at me quizzically for a few instants, then they smirk and go back to their talking.

  I clear my throat and I stare at the damn message again. My eyes widen and my heart races. I bit my thumbnail nervously as I think about what has just happened.

  ‘Who the fuck is this?’

  “Shit!” I blurt again, checking the time. It’s almost 5 pm and I’m ridiculously late for work. The two guys next my table fall quiet and stare at me one more time.

  “I really can’t seem to get rid of this exercise!” I tell them before I start packing as quickly as I can. I’m too worried I might get late at work to really enjoy their bewildered expressions.

  I clumsily rush toward the exit, carrying my laptop’s bag over my shoulder, and I stumble on the edge of a table. Hurriedly, I walk out, panting and throttling down the fifth avenue, directed to Bryant Park subway station.

  I get off at Tribeca and in five minutes I’m at the restaurant, just in time to start my shift.

  “Did you run a marathon or something?” Nick asks, letting out a slight smile.

  “I was kinda late so I had to hurry up,” I say catching my breath as I rush to the dressing room.

  “Oh, I see.” He chuckles delightedly.

  The restaurant is also available for all kind of artistic exhibitions and this evening one is taking place. An emergent photographer has booked the whole restaurant, and only people with an invitation, are allowed to step in. The tables have been removed and there’s a trendy buffet on a side corner near the bar. The walls have been adorned with the photographer’s works.

  When I walk back into the main room, wearing my tidy black uniform, the first guests have arrived. Nick looks nervous, his brow slightly furrowed, he looks around making sure everything is in place and nothing is missing. He notices me and unfolding his index finger he gestures for me to come closer.