Lucky might be trapped in the elevator. But no, she had left a good ten minutes before the blackout.
He switched to a news channel and settled back to hear the worst.
“Whatcha doin’ out there, asshole?” yelled the dark-haired boy locked in Dario’s bedroom. “Pullin’ the fuse on your fuckin’ lights ain’t gonna help ya. You fuckin’
hear me,
asshole?” He kicked the door again and again. Dario was thankful for the decorator, who had insisted he change the flimsy interior doors in the apartment for ones made of good solid oak.
“What’s your problem?” he shouted in what he hoped was a firm unafraid voice. “I thought we had a good time together.”
“You prickass!” the boy screamed. “You dirty fag!”
Dario was genuinely puzzled. “If I’m a dirty fag what does that make you?”
“Don’t fuck with me, brother!” The boy’s voice was verging on hysteria. “I ain’t no fag. I like stickin’ it to big juicy girls.”
Dario felt more secure now, in spite of the power cut and being locked in his own apartment with this freak. The strong oak door was not going to give out. It was going to hold the maniac until he could call for help.
“Did someone send you?” he asked as coldly as he could manage.
“Aw, fuck off,” the boy replied, “an’ turn the fuckin’ lights back on. Bein’ in the dark ain’t gonna help ya.”
Dario thought about whom he could call for help. The list was limited, he didn’t have many friends.
“Turn the lights on, asshole,” screamed the boy, “or I’ll bust right outa here an’ smash your fuckin’ head in.”
As the lights went out, Carrie froze. She did not finish the sentence she was in the middle of. She stood stupidly by the checkout desk in the supermarket in Harlem, her mouth still open.
“What’s goin’ on ’round here?” the girl behind the desk shrieked. Her words were almost drowned out by the whoops and hollers of the customers as they realized lights, security, everything was gone.
“Outasight!” shrieked a woman’s excited voice. “Let’s sure ’nuff help ourselves, sisters!”
Before Carrie’s eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, the two boys who had been behind her when she entered the supermarket were now on either side of her, hustling and shoving.
“Hey, lady, what’s a foxy puff like y’all doin’ up thissaway?”
“C’mon. Baby, baby, baby…. You cool, baby? You carryin’ coffee cream ’tween your long legs, baby?”
And as they crooned and hustled and shoved her back and forth they robbed her. Ripping the diamonds from her ears so that the lobes bled. Sliding the diamond ring from her finger. Snatching the diamond clips from her hair. And all the time carrying on a dialogue in husky tones that was almost like the start of a Teddy Pendergrass record.
Carrie was frozen with fear. It brought back every bad memory of her past life. It was all so long ago… and yet it could have happened yesterday. “Leave me alone,” she started to scream, “leave me alone!”
The boys gave her a final shove, grabbed her purse, and ran.
Gino didn’t say a word to the woman sitting beside him, her long fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. He saw every light in New York vanish and he didn’t so much as cough.
It came as no surprise to him when the plane, already on a descent pattern, changed course and started to climb.
A buzz of conversation shot through the cabin. Gino was not the only one to have observed the total blackout.
The lady beside him sat upright in her seat. “What’s happening?” she asked. “Oh my God! Isn’t that noise the landing gear coming up again?”
“Don’t panic,” he said softly. “I think there’s some kind of problem in New York.”
Her voice rose an octave. “A problem?” She let go of his hand long enough to swig from her flask. Then she clutched his arm, her face ashen. “I don’t feel well,” she moaned.
“So lay off the booze.”
She shot him a dirty
He switched to a news channel and settled back to hear the worst.
“Whatcha doin’ out there, asshole?” yelled the dark-haired boy locked in Dario’s bedroom. “Pullin’ the fuse on your fuckin’ lights ain’t gonna help ya. You fuckin’
hear me,
asshole?” He kicked the door again and again. Dario was thankful for the decorator, who had insisted he change the flimsy interior doors in the apartment for ones made of good solid oak.
“What’s your problem?” he shouted in what he hoped was a firm unafraid voice. “I thought we had a good time together.”
“You prickass!” the boy screamed. “You dirty fag!”
Dario was genuinely puzzled. “If I’m a dirty fag what does that make you?”
“Don’t fuck with me, brother!” The boy’s voice was verging on hysteria. “I ain’t no fag. I like stickin’ it to big juicy girls.”
Dario felt more secure now, in spite of the power cut and being locked in his own apartment with this freak. The strong oak door was not going to give out. It was going to hold the maniac until he could call for help.
“Did someone send you?” he asked as coldly as he could manage.
“Aw, fuck off,” the boy replied, “an’ turn the fuckin’ lights back on. Bein’ in the dark ain’t gonna help ya.”
Dario thought about whom he could call for help. The list was limited, he didn’t have many friends.
“Turn the lights on, asshole,” screamed the boy, “or I’ll bust right outa here an’ smash your fuckin’ head in.”
As the lights went out, Carrie froze. She did not finish the sentence she was in the middle of. She stood stupidly by the checkout desk in the supermarket in Harlem, her mouth still open.
“What’s goin’ on ’round here?” the girl behind the desk shrieked. Her words were almost drowned out by the whoops and hollers of the customers as they realized lights, security, everything was gone.
“Outasight!” shrieked a woman’s excited voice. “Let’s sure ’nuff help ourselves, sisters!”
Before Carrie’s eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, the two boys who had been behind her when she entered the supermarket were now on either side of her, hustling and shoving.
“Hey, lady, what’s a foxy puff like y’all doin’ up thissaway?”
“C’mon. Baby, baby, baby…. You cool, baby? You carryin’ coffee cream ’tween your long legs, baby?”
And as they crooned and hustled and shoved her back and forth they robbed her. Ripping the diamonds from her ears so that the lobes bled. Sliding the diamond ring from her finger. Snatching the diamond clips from her hair. And all the time carrying on a dialogue in husky tones that was almost like the start of a Teddy Pendergrass record.
Carrie was frozen with fear. It brought back every bad memory of her past life. It was all so long ago… and yet it could have happened yesterday. “Leave me alone,” she started to scream, “leave me alone!”
The boys gave her a final shove, grabbed her purse, and ran.
Gino didn’t say a word to the woman sitting beside him, her long fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. He saw every light in New York vanish and he didn’t so much as cough.
It came as no surprise to him when the plane, already on a descent pattern, changed course and started to climb.
A buzz of conversation shot through the cabin. Gino was not the only one to have observed the total blackout.
The lady beside him sat upright in her seat. “What’s happening?” she asked. “Oh my God! Isn’t that noise the landing gear coming up again?”
“Don’t panic,” he said softly. “I think there’s some kind of problem in New York.”
Her voice rose an octave. “A problem?” She let go of his hand long enough to swig from her flask. Then she clutched his arm, her face ashen. “I don’t feel well,” she moaned.
“So lay off the booze.”
She shot him a dirty
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