Five Feet or Less Read online

  Then I sighed and went to the beer aisle and grabbed a case of Bud for Gwen and slid it onto the bottom rack of the cart then made my way to the register. Don't know why she drinks this. She keeps calling it American beer when some foreign company bought them out years ago, but try arguing with her about it and all you'll get is an ear full. I think she just likes the Clydesdales.

  I got to the register, unloaded everything but the beer onto the conveyor belt and pushed the cart ahead of me. The checker looked at me with a smile and I pointed down at the cart. She stood on her tip toes to look over the conveyor to the beer and nodded and rang it up with the rest. “Don't you want to see my ID?” I prompted. I knew why she didn't ask. It is odd but you think I'd get used to it and not notice anymore. But I guess that it is my damage to see the different treatment I get when I don't want it.

  She looked nervous then said, “Sure.”

  I held it up for her, and less than a millisecond later she was telling me my total. Some genius she must be to read my birth date with less than a full glance. Too bad I don't drink or I would have taken advantage of this when I was underage. I'll never drink... not after...

  I tilted the card reader down so I could see it then swiped my debit card and completed the transaction. The checker was then on the intercom. “Customer carryout to register three.”

  I shook my head at her as I put the bags back in the cart. “Thank you, but I got this. Have a great day!”

  She watched as I started pushing the cart toward the doors. Then I heard, “Cancel carryout,” over the intercom.

  I made it out to Bessie and started loading her up through the passenger side sliding door. Crap, I waited too long between shopping visits. Seven bags, this was going to be two or three trips up and down the stairs. I put the cart into a cart corral then performed my car transfer ritual and was off to home.

  I couldn't get there fast enough. I really hate being out here. Most of my clients only deal with me exclusively online, and I love that. They have no clue who they are dealing with so I know that all of our interactions are genuine. There are a few that I'll go out on site to help if they really, really need it. They are the awesome people that Crystal McKay hooks me up with. She keeps pulling in these markers, I seem to always be on the owing end because she keeps getting me high paying clients like the Valentines. But Crystal is probably the nicest person I know besides Sandra, so I don't mind owing her at all.

  After getting out of Bessie, I swung around and backed my chair over the curb then started hanging bags on the push-handles behind me. They were too heavy for one trip... two trips it is then, damn. Mr. Underman was at the front door adjusting one of the hinges and looked over then started walking to me. “Oh great. Gonna bang up my walls again Qualls? Damn destructive woman.”

  He just automatically started grabbing the other bags and was about to grab the beer when I put a hand on his arm. “No, let the bitch twins get that. If they want to drink it they can damn well bring it upstairs themselves.”

  He just closed the slider and led the way to the door. I think it is funny how verbally abrasive this guy is, when he can can be so chivalrous to all the female tenants all in the same breath. He held the door open for me then just walked upstairs ahead of me and put the bags on the floor by the door as I was backing up the stairs one at a time pulling the left rail and my left handrim at the same time. Banging and bumping up. He just wandered back down the stairs past me shaking his head. “Goddamn bull in a china shop. Now I gotta go buy more paint.”

  I called down to him with a laugh in my voice as he made his way back outside. “Thanks Ezekiel. See ya later!”

  He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah Reese.”

  So... that's a typical outing for me.

  I chuckled to myself and made it to the top. After putting away all of my groceries, I settled into the familiar apartment... my fortress of solitude.

  I quickly caught up with my clients and ate a sandwich for lunch, then I was soooo bored. I was going to jump online for some gaming, or maybe relax on the couch in front of the TV... but I looked around at the mess. Damn... I hate myself so much sometimes. To my own shame, I set about cleaning the apartment.

  Chapter 2 – Keys!

  When I was finished with cleaning the living room, kitchen, and bathroom it was late in the afternoon. I made a mental note to tell Gwen that they needed to dust the top of the refrigerator, since the handle on my duster wasn't magical and couldn't bend over the top of things I couldn't reach. I seriously doubt they'd listen but they had responsibilities in the apartment too, at least reminding them of it every once in a while made me feel better.

  I went to make some coffee in the kitchen. I wheeled over to the pantry to grab the coffee container and found that Marcie had put it on the wrong shelf again, just up out of my reach. I swear she does things like that on purpose. I think she secretly has a hate on for me lately for some reason.

  Unlike Gwen, who is just a bitch to be a bitch, I think that's how she copes, she wears it like armor. Sometimes she slips and the inner her shines through and I can see her bitchy front is mostly an act. For example, I have caught Gwen reprimanding Marcie a few times over the years for doing spiteful things against me when she didn't know I could hear them.

  I grabbed my “tipper stick” as I call it, and pushed aside a couple cans on the shelf then dragged the coffee container off the shelf. It took a couple tries. I caught it then started a pot brewing.

  I heard a clanking noise at the front door as the mail was delivered through the mail slot. So I rolled over and I separated the mail into piles on the entry table then grabbed a cup of fresh coffee and wheeled over to my desk to set my mail on it, then over to the couch. I placed my coffee mug on the side table and transferred myself onto the couch and grabbed my legs and dragged them up to my chest. I then enjoyed my coffee as I watched the local news on the TV. It feels nice to relax a bit.

  Just as that thought rolled out of my head, the front door swung open and Gwen dragged herself in. She really looked beat. She looked around the spotless apartment then shot a tired smile my way as she helped herself to some coffee, drowning it in cream and sugar. “Hey wheels.”

  I turned back to the TV. “Hey Gwen. Rough day?”

  She flopped down beside me to watch the news. “You have no idea. How can there be so many idiots in the world? I mean, you tell a lady that they don't make a particular dress in a size sixteen and they go all ballistic, telling you they need that dress in that size. What the flip does she want me to do? Go into the back and magically sew one up for her?”

  I was only half tuned in to her as she did her normal rant as I watched the news. She was the assistant manager at Abigail's downtown. They specialized in high end designer dresses and attire for professional and upper class women. The main reason she got the job there out of high school was her looks... period. She wears the various dresses as she saunters around in the store. Her flawless figure flatters most of the clothing lines and she inspires a lot of sales there. They use her like a living mannequin. I don't know how she can sell herself like that.

  I glanced over at her then quickly back to the TV. “Rich people don't listen Gwen. Oh... you need to dust the top of the refrigerator, I cleaned the rest of the kitchen today.”

  She was quiet for a second, I could tell she was looking at me, then said, “I'll get Marce to do it when she gets home.” Typical, leave it for her Mini Me.

  She grabbed my legs and straightened them out across her lap like she always does, twisting my body so I was laying down as we watched the TV. She says it keeps her lap warm. “Oh hey, you get my beer, Wheels? I got Mark coming over tonight, we're heading out to the Plant.”

  I nodded and cringed, it was a Friday night and I don't think a week had gone by since she turned twenty one that she hadn't gone out clubbing at the Steam Plant Club on Friday or Saturday night. She had hooked up with Mark, a couple weeks back and he was the definition of a too
l. He thinks he's being cute when he calls me Wheels like the girls do, even after I keep telling him not to and that I hate it. I think he is just trying to impress Gwen. Maybe I should start calling him 'douche bag' in response and see how he likes it.

  When the news was over she swung my legs back up to my chest and headed out the front door, snagging my keys off the counter on her way out. A minute later she was walking in with the beer. She tossed my keys on the counter and went about stocking the fridge as Marci walked into the apartment with her boyfriend of the week, Taylor, connected to her at the lips.

  Gwen looked over at them. “Hey Marce, can you dust the top of the fridge? I'm going to start getting ready to hit the Plant. You and Taylor coming or are you staying in?”

  Marcie stopped the make-out session she was in. “Yeah, we'll join you. Just have Wheels do the fridge.” She started dragging Taylor to the girl's bedroom.

  Gwen was a little firm when she replied, “She did the whole fucking apartment, just do the damn top of the fridge.”

  She walked past them briskly and into the bedroom. Marcie shot a glare over to me then looked sweetly at her new boy toy. “Tay, can you dust the top of the fridge for me while I go get ready for tonight?” He just nodded and walked over and grabbed the duster off of the counter as she followed Gwen into the bedroom.

  I heard arguing in the bedroom but couldn't make out the words as Taylor ignored me and went about doing his chore for Marcie.

  The arguments have been happening more and more frequently lately. They started right after the most awkward night of my life about nine months ago. It was late one night and I had fallen asleep on the couch. I woke up and the TV was off and I was under a blanket I don't remember putting on. After doing my chair transfer I was wheeling past the girl's room to my bedroom. The door was opened slightly and I had heard Gwen talking to Marcie. “Aren't you even a little curious? I mean, it could be fun. This would be like a one night experiment and we'll never talk about it again. Everyone tries it at least once. She may be that way but we aren't.”

  What were they up to now? I peeked in the cracked door as Marcie said, “OK.” I saw her lean in and kiss Gwen on the lips! WTF!? I couldn't pull my eyes off of them as they slowly made out then stripped each other, with lots of kissing and heavy petting. The things they were doing to each other were making me so hot and aroused. OMG! I got to my room quickly and took care of my own needs after watching that steamy session. Oh damn it... now I'm heating up in embarrassing places again just thinking of it. Soon after I finished, I heard Marcie yelling and a door slamming.

  That morning I came out to see Marcie sleeping on the couch. Since that night, they seem to argue all the time behind closed doors, that's when Marcie's secret 'hate' for me started as well. They never mentioned that night again and they still see guys so it must have just been an experiment like Gwen said. Which makes sense, they never struck me as gay, even for each other, not with the parade of men that go through their bedroom.

  Must be nice to be able to attract guys or even be close enough to someone to experiment like that. I landed in this chair just as puberty was hitting me. And a wheelchair seems to be a turnoff for guys. I've never been on a date before.

  Though Mitch Gresham thought it would be funny to act like he was interested and ask me to our junior prom then not pick me up. I really hate that people can be so mean. Later I heard that Kimberly Jones had told him that if he did it as a joke, she would go to the dance with him.

  It was odd, after the dance, Kimberly was sporting a hell of a black eye in school and she dropped out of cheer leading. I heard there was some sort of scuffle in the locker rooms.

  I often wonder what it is like to kiss someone. Is it a magical experience like they make it out to be in the movies? It has to be, right? Or why would everyone be doing it all the time? I think I'm broken though. I hate the way people treat me in my chair, so I can't imaging myself kissing any guy. I try to fantasize about it with actors like Nathan Fillion, but it just doesn't seem to turn me on. I'm sure I'm doing it to myself and it's another thing my imaginary therapist would have a hay day with.

  I realized I was just spacing off thinking about all of this. I glanced back and Taylor had finished dusting and was sitting on one of the bar stools at the counter with his back to me. He's one of the type that pretend not to see me unless they absolutely can't avoid interaction. He's nervous of doing or saying the wrong thing to the 'fragile' girl in the chair and looking bad in front of people. My God, just treat me like a person and everything is good!

  After playing a bit of Robo-Terror and watching the girls parade in and out of the bathroom as they got ready for the night, I got on my headset and called a taxi for them, then prepped for the upcoming argument.

  Gwen and Marcie came out and stood in the hall and struck a pose for Taylor as he stood. He was stuck satisfactorily in drool mode over them. Gwen shot a wink my way when Taylor was staring at them speechlessly. I could feel the burn of a blush on my cheek as I looked down. Gawd I hated how sexy they looked, why couldn't I pull that look off?

  I rolled over to them with an empty coffee can with the picture of a key taped on it, and thrust it between the three. “Keys.”

  Marci automatically dropped her keys into the can, Gwen looked at me and tried to catch my eyes. “Wheels, I gotta pick up Mark, he...”

  I cut her off. This is the only rule I have... the one rule I can fight with her on. I don't care how cutely she smiles at me, I won't bend on this and she knows it. “Keys Gwen! You can have the cab swing by to grab him,” I said firmly. It felt good to snap at her. This was the only time I could be assertive with her and she knew it.

  She sighed in defeat. “Fine. But I'm gonna need to get some cash from you for the cab, I can't make rent this month again and I gave you all my money this morning for the beer.” I shook my head no, I mean, she hasn't ever paid her full share of rent since... forever! She always seems to con me into making up how ever much she is short. I'm not going to keep dishing out money to... a soft hand was on my chin interrupting my thought. No! Damn it.

  She lifted my gaze and I met her eyes and she smiled sweetly at me, tilting her head. It was my turn to sigh in defeat and I just shook my head and pointed at my purse. She grinned then started digging for cash in my wallet as I shoved my can toward Taylor.

  He looked dumbly at me. I glared at him, he's not really that dense is he. Oh wait. He's dating Marcie, maybe he is. “Car keys. You guys are going to be drinking tonight,” I said to him.

  He looked down at me like I was crazy. “I'm not giving you my car keys. Are you nuts?”

  In unison, both Marcie and Gwen inhaled sharply and whispered, “Oh shit.”

  I wish I could have shot fire from my eyes and ended him right then and there. I spoke with fury in my voice, “If you're going out drinking with my roommates tonight, you damn well better hand over your keys and do it now or get the hell out of here without Marcie! You aren't going to get drunk then drive around this city and endanger innocent people or my girls! A fucking drunk driver did this to me...” I pointed at my chair, “...and if the inconvenience of using a cab tonight to protect others is too much for you, then get the fuck out now!”

  He looked shocked and Marcie was looking down sheepishly, it was the only thing the girls ever agreed with me on. No matter what her recent problem with me is, she still respected this one solitary thing for me. Taylor started, “I can drive after a few drinks, I'm in control behind the wheel and...”

  I almost spat at him, “That's what the asshole that did this to me and killed my mom said. 'I didn't think I was that drunk. I thought I was in control.' What a crock of shit!”

  He glanced over at the girls who were fidgeting uncomfortably and not looking at him. He took his car key off his ring and dropped it in the can and I wheeled off triumphantly to my desk to set the can down.

  I glanced back... was Gwen smiling? She often says she likes it when I show backbone. We heard a
car horn. That would be the cab. They filed out with Gwen calling back over her shoulder, “We're hitting dinner then the club, Wheels. I'll be back after midnight with Mark, Marce says she's spending the night at Taylor's.” That's how they did it, if they both thought they were getting lucky that night, one would stay at their current boyfriend's since the girls shared a room here.

  It was an efficient system. How awkward would it be if one walked into the bedroom when the other was doing it with some guy. It made me again think of that time I walked past to see the girls going at... crap, changing topics... that memory was heating me up again.

  So here I am, alone again on Friday night with my computers and my TV. I made a TV dinner and sat in front of its namesake to stream a movie from my extensive digital collection. The Avengers was always fun to watch. Thor and Hawkeye were cute and all, but I have always had a weird fascination with all the scenes that the Black Widow was in. I mean, Scarlett is just that good of an actress right? That's why I like to watch her act. Maybe I'll watch Elektra after this, Jennifer Gardner is awesome in that.

  It was around ten when my iPod, iPad, computer and IP phone all started ringing. The only one within reach was my iPad so I snagged it and looked at the caller ID. Huh... Maggie from the Ballyhoo Club a few blocks away. The Ballyhoo is an elite lesbian club that Crystal McKay secured for me as a client. I automated their website and provide remote tech support when needed for their website or network. They are good customers and really nice people at the club. I hit accept. “Qualltech. This is Reese.”

  Maggie was frantic. I could barely hear her over the loud music in the background. She apologized for calling so far beyond my working hours. The club owner, Bonnie, was out of town and their WiFi connection was down at the bar to all the iPads that Maggie, who is the bartender, and the waitresses used for the drink orders and accepting payments. They were doing everything by hand and only accepting cash right now. It was chaos on their busiest night of the week. I couldn't log into their system as we spoke, it was like their DSL modem or wireless router were down. I asked if they tried power cycling and she said yes.