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CHAPTER 1: MEET MARY

The cheerful tune drilled into Mary’s hungover brain. “Aw, fuck…” Groaning herself out of comatose slumber, she swept at her alarm clock—and belatedly recalled she’d smashed that sucker against a wall a couple of weeks ago. The dent was still there to prove it. This was her phone ringtone.

“Ow! Wha—”

Her blind swipe still hit something, however—something that complained about it.

She wasn’t alone.

“Ow… Where am I…?”

“Shut up. And help me find that damn phone.” Mary tried to get up. The room spun around her, and she fell back on her bed. “Oh, God.” How many drinks had she had last night?

Her movement finished awaking the sexy dark-skinned athlete lying naked half atop of her. But instead of making himself useful, the guy froze staring at her like a drunken owl on meth—staring at her face, which threw Mary off a bit. Most men usually aimed lower first.

“WHO’RE YOU?!” he gasped, his voice comically high-pitched for such a big guy. He looked around frantically. “Where am I? What happened?!”

“Ow. Quiet, big guy.” Mary covered her ears with a wince. If only that localised earthquake in her forehead would just stop for five goddamn seconds! “Mary. My home. We fucked.”

Probably.

They could as well have passed out drunk in her bed without doing anything.

But no, there was that soreness in her loins… and her back entrance as well.  Definitely fucked.

…Or she’d fucked someone else then came back home with this dude, somehow, and passed out drunk on her bed. Or maybe there was another guy passed out on her couch. Or in the toilet. Or it could be a girl, maybe with a strap-on. The possibilities are endless! She chuckled humourlessly, but the aftershocks in her head quickly stopped her. “Now will you get my fucking phone or get off me so I can get it?!”

“We— But I’m gay!?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Stop whining and get off me!!” At least that explained why her ass feels like a nuclear test site. With effort, Mary rolled him aside—pushing herself off the bed in the process. She hit the floor with a hard thud. “Ow.” The carpeted floor felt harder than she imagined it would.

Somewhere between pain and annoyance, Mary tried to get up, failed, tried again, failed a second time, then she wisely chose to crawl pitifully to the nearest wall and use it as support. Hand on the ageing wallpaper, she stumbled around the room naked. A cold breeze intruding through the open door made her shiver, parts of her anatomy stiffened uncomfortably. She vaguely remembered leaving the balcony door open too—for the smell? What smell? She sniffed the air. Pot. The smell was faint, but it was definitely pot. Ah, shit. In any case, opened windows at night were a bad idea in late February. Or was it March already? What date is today? She massaged her aching brows. “Note to self. Never again drink... what’ver I drunk last night.”

On a chest of drawers, she spotted the ripped Daisy Dukes she vaguely recalled putting on yesterday. The ringtone originated from there. A rectangular screen shone through holes in the fabric. Abandoning her wall-crutch, she set off in that direction, the light of the smartphone guiding her unsteady steps like the Star of Bethlehem in olden days had guided the Three Wise Men.

She fumbled with the skimpy shorts and extracted her phone from a pocket. Her finger angrily dragged across the cracked screen protector, finally killing the insufferable ringtone.

“Dae-Hyun will kill me.” As she was about to answer the call, a whine from the bed reminded Mary of her guest. The man sat, face in his hands, the covers pooled around his waist.

However, she wasn’t in the mood to appreciate the sight.

“Jesus, stop crying. You’re a big guy. Man up. …Who’s that Dae-Hyun?”

“My husband.”

“…Ah.” One of those cases. Oh, well. It wasn’t the first time she did a married man. Probably wouldn’t be the last. A gay married man might be a first, though. For Christ’s sake, how pissed was I last night? Shaking her head, she returned her attention to her phone, squinting at the caller’s ID.

“O, God… What have I done?” He was still going!

“I’m pretty sure God doesn’t have jack shit to do with this. The Great Bastard upstairs doesn’t care,” Mary mumbled distractedly. Giving up on reading on the too-bright screen, she finally answered the call. “Yeah-a?”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Mary?”

“Oh, Vincent… Wassup?” Recognising the landlord’s voice, she tried to make herself sound more awake. The nice middle-aged man had always been understanding when she was late on rent—and, unlike at her previous place, she didn’t even have to blow him for it! So she tried to be nice in return.

She wondered why he was calling, though. He wouldn’t without a good reason. They were on good terms, but not exactly phone pals. And she distinctly remembered transferring her rent money earlier this month, so it wasn’t that. Or was it last month? Shit, I can’t… Stupid headache. “Is it about the rent?” She dragged a hand over her tired face.

“O, God…”

“Will you stop whining?!”

“I’m sorry?”

Mary quickly refocused on the phone conversation. “Oh, no—sorry, Vincent. I wasn’t talking to you. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, dearie. No worries. It’s early for everyone.”

“No shit— …sorry.”

“Ah! Swearing won’t offend me, girl. I was quite wild myself in my youth. Hohoho.” Vincent’s hearty Santa laugh came over the phone.

Wild? Picturing the balding older man with a hobby for jogging in the hallway, Mary couldn’t see him being even a little rowdy. Vincent, a hoodlum? What would he do? Cheat at Mrs Wilkinson’s Thursday Scrabble Nights? The old lady living on the second floor would slaughter him with her handbag before letting that happen.

“Anyway, there’s a bunch of people with boxes here for you. Should I send them up?”

“Boxes?” Mary paled. As in, plural? Oh, Lord. She hoped she had not ordered on Amazon while piss-drunk again. After last night, her bank account absolutely couldn’t afford another instance like that $400 ‘Sit On My Face’ chair. Her credit cards were all maxed-out, and her friends… weren’t the kind who’d lent her money—not for free.

Well… Nick might. Her eccentric younger next-door neighbour was quite well-off, even if he didn’t advertise it—puzzling Mary as to why he’d live in this place, which was cheap enough that a bankrupt washout like her could afford it. Knowing Nick’s temperament, he probably wouldn’t even mind to give her the money. Or he’d forget he’d lent it.

But she couldn’t bear to ask him. He was one of the few people who knew her well and still treated her civilly. Mary didn’t want to risk that relationship by leeching off him. So despite how filthy it made her feel, she guessed she’d have to contact one of her “friends with benefits”—the benefits being financial on her end.

She chuckled without humour. God, I’m a wreck. As usual when coming off a particularly strong binge, all her repressed negativity was oozing back to the surface.

“Mary, hello? Are you still there?”

“Wha—Oh, sorry, Vincent. I spaced out for a minute. Can you… can you ask them what it is?” Muffled talking reached her over the phone. She used the time to walk out of the bedroom, shut the balcony door close with another shiver, then went to the kitchen and filled herself a glass of water—then another. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat some. It helped clear her thoughts as well.

“Mary?”

“I’m here.”

“Did you buy a gamepod?”

“Game Pod? One of those big VR things?”

…Did I? Dread crept into her stomach. Aren’t those, like, super expensive? Something was coming back to her. She’d talked about something similar yesterday—or maybe a few days ago depending on how trustworthy her memory was. She couldn’t recall with whom.

Although, logically thinking, Nick was the only one in her circle of friends and acquaintances who’d go on and on about gaming. She rarely followed what he talked about, but he was funny—and she liked the company. She wanted to go knock on his door to ask him, but at this time, he would be either at college or skipping and playing games in his how VR-pod.

“Yes. They’re complete, full immersion devices. Did you order one?”

“I… I don’t think so? I’m sorry, Vincent. Can you make them leave? It must be a mistake. …I don’t have the money.” She whispered the last part as if someone could overhear and judge her. God, I hope it’s not too late to cancel.

More inaudible talking took place over the line.

“They say it’s already paid for.”

Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. “What?!” She needed to check her credits records asap!

“Listen, girl,” Vincent started soothingly, “how about I—Wait. One of them wants to talk to you.”

“Sure… Put him on,” she sighed. By now, her brain was once again somewhat functional and busy planning ways out of this predicament. She filled and downed another glass of cold water.

“Hello, miss Chaste?” Vincent was replaced by a far younger-sounding man. His voice had a hint of a smooth Hispanic accent. Despite herself, Mary pictured sexily tanned skin and a six-pack to match the voice. She unconsciously moistened her lips and twirled a strand of blond hair around her finger.

“Mmm. That’s me. I’m told you have a… package for me?” She immediately cringed. There is something wrong with me. She forced herself to continue in a more neutral tone. “I’m sorry. There must be a mistake. I didn’t order anything.”

“I’ve got an order in the name of Mary Chaste for a gamepod W-69. It’s all fully paid. We just need your authorisation to bring it up and install it.”

“Fully paid… from what account?” She had gotten careful after being scammed in the past. The man on the phone rattled off a number. Definitely not one of her bank accounts. She spent enough hours agonising over their emptiness to know her numbers by heart.

“There a communication on the invoice saying it’s a reward gift from the NHGame Online Streaming Station for winning a contest. I’m sorry, miss. We’re just from the local GameWare shop. I don’t know anything more. Can we bring it up? I can contact NHGame for confirmation if you’d like.”

“No— I mean, okay, sure, bring it up… As long as it’s paid for…”

“Completely paid for. The installation is included in the service.”

“Okay, then.”

“We’ll be up in an instant. Could you make sure you have a space available for the pod, so we can put it together and hook it up as soon as we get there?”

“Ye-Yeah. Sure. Sure.”

“See you in a minute, miss.” He hung up. Mary stared at the phone in puzzlement before dazedly looking around the kitchen, as if able to see the other rooms through the walls. Space available, he says. Sure, her apartment was… oddly tidy for some reason, but… free space?

Then she remembered she was naked. “Oh—Shit!! Shit-fuck-shit-shit.” She took off towards her bedroom. As much as she liked to tease Nick sometimes, she hadn’t fallen so low she’d answer the door to perfect strangers in the buff. Alright. First, clean clothes, then a place to fit a gamepod. All in… what… five minutes? Piece of cake. The smell of pot was unnoticeable enough. And she didn’t have time to worry about it.

Coming to a skidding halt in front of her bedroom door, a curtain of greasy blonde hair slapped her in the face. Ewwwww… And a shower.

In five minutes.

Piece of cake.

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