I went back in the office and turned the TV on and flipped a couple channels and turned it off. I moved the mouse around on the computer, thought about looking at some porn, imagined the implications of jerking off in that particular environment, and discarded the idea. All I needed was another disturbing mental image running around my brain banging at the walls.

Thinking about disturbing mental images made me think about disturbing mental images.

That sucked.

I sat on the edge of the twin bed that was parked in the corner of the office doing duty as a cot. A regular cot being, one assumes, out of the question for Po Sins needs. I looked at the clock. It was just after midnight. I tried to remember the last time Id been up that late. Crap, I tried to remember the last time Id been up past nine PM. Itd been awhile.

Its not like its a mystery or anything, all the sleep.

Sleeping was just easier than being awake.

So why fight it?

I curled up and stopped fighting. A daily ritual of the last year. Giving up.

Hello, youve reached Clean Team. Were currently out of the office on a job. If you have an emergency we can help you with, please call 1 -888-256-8326. Thats 1-888-CLN-TEAM. Well be there for you.

Beeeeeep.

– Urn, hi, this is, uh, this is Soledad Nye. The woman in Malibu. You cleaned my dads mess? I mean, oh fuck, that was horrible. You cleaned the house. Anyway. I was hoping I could get in touch with one of your employees. Web. I wanted to talk to him about… anyway. My number, well, he should call me on my cell. The number. Hang on.

I didnt quite kill myself when I jerked out of sleep and slammed my already damaged head into the shelf that hung too low over the bed, but I came close enough that I had to crawl across the floor to answer the phone on the office desk.

– Hello? Hello? Crap! Crap!

– Uh, Web?

– Yeah, yeah, its me. Oh fucking crap! Jesus.

– Are you OK?

– Yeah, I just kind of, crap, banged my head really hard.

I sat on the floor, back against the side of the desk, phone to my ear, hand clapped over the brand-new lump rising from my head.

– Do you need some ice?

– Sure, yeah, that would be great.

There was some silence.

She cleared her throat.

– Web, you know Im not there to actually get you the ice, right?

I blinked my eyes a few times, tried to bring the face of the liquid crystal clock on the wall into focus.

– Yeah, I know that. I was being funny.

– Or not.

– Yes, well, being not funny is more my forte.

– I noticed.

The clock straightened out for me. 12:32 AM.

– Yes, its good of you to call my place of work to leave a message that, I can only assume, would have been meant to make clear my lack of humor-ousness. Im flattered by the attention. Is there anything else I can do for you now that you have not laughed at me.

– Oh, Ive laughed at you.

I took my hand from my head and looked at it. No blood. What luck.

– At me. Just not with me.

– You never know, stranger things have happened.

– Indeed.

I sat there and held the phone. She, I imagine, did the same. I have, I also imagine, less patience than she. Less patience, its safe to say, than most normal people. Therefore, I cracked first.

– So, Soledad.

Note that the first time I spoke her name out loud I did it without stuttering or squeaking into a register higher than Tiny Tims. A memory I treasure with some pride. A lesser man would have embarrassed himself with some verbal tic. Not I.

– So, Soledad. Why the fuck are you calling?

– Urn, right. Well, Id like to say Im calling to ask if you want to go grab a coffee or something traditionally ambiguous and noncommittal.

Observe how I remain aloof and calm.

– But thats not the case?

– Nooo.

– The case is?

– The case is. I need a favor.

A favor? Shes in need? And yet, not a tremor in my voice.

– The favor is?

– The favor is, well, I need something cleaned.

But of course. Was there ever any doubt. My janitorial expertise is required. L.L. would be so proud.

But Im no womans flunky.

– What needs to be cleaned, when?

– A room. Now.

I looked at the clock again. 12:35 AM. Clean a room? At 12:35 AM. IS she out of her fucking mind? Does she think Im an absolute tool?

– Where are you?

Where she was, of course, was that motel. What was in the room, of course, was that blood. Who was with her, of course, was the guy trying to out-asshole me.

A title I was ready to relinquish in light of the butterfly knife he flashed at me.

If that all rings a bell.

The guy with the fauxhawk showed me his blade, a slight crust of dry blood gummed at the hilt.

– Say that again? Say it. About to go Bruce Lee on your ass here, you keep talking about my moms.

I put my back to the door and shifted the carrier of cleaning gear so that I held it in front of me.

– Hey no, all done, Im not saying anything.

He took a step, twirled the knife.

– I fucking thought not, asshole.

– Did it hurt?

He stopped walking, the knife stopped twirling.

– What?

I spoke very slowly.

– When. You. Thought. Did it hurt? Like because youre not good at it, I mean.

He slammed his forearm across my throat, pinning me to the door, the point of the knife poking my cheek.

– Asshole! I said shut the fuck up! I said it was a wrap!

I thought about bringing up the carrier and shoving it into his gut, but the last time Id fought anyone other than Chev was in junior high. And that was scrawny Dillard Hayes whod made some lame joke about Chev not having a mom and Id gone whacko about it. And I got the shit kicked out of me. And Dillard didnt have a knife.

So I tried diplomacy instead.

– No, you didnt actually tell me to shut the fuck up. And you certainly didnt say anything as lame as-GAH!

No, he didnt say GAH! I said GAH! Or, rather, I kind of barked GAH when he drove his knee into what was meant to be my balls, but was actually the carrier, which then hit my balls.

– GAH! GAH!

He did it twice more. If that didnt communicate.

The bathroom door swung open and Soledad came out toweling her hands dry.

– Jaime!

This seemingly directed at the fauxhawk dude about to put his knee on the money for the fourth time.

He let go of me and turned.

– What! What!

I dropped to the floor and tried to figure out how breathing worked.

Soledad came and kneeled next to me.

– What the hell, Jaime?

Jaime waved his knife.

– He was being an asshole, just like you said he would be!

She put a hand on the side of my face.

– I said he might act like an asshole and you needed to be chill.

He pointed the knife at me.

– Why do I have to be chill when hes being the asshole?

She shook her head, looked at me, her face all but hid in the long curls of hair falling around it.

– You OK?

I squirted more tears and kept my hands jammed in my crotch by way of an answer.

Jaime came and leaned over her and looked down at me.

– Besides, he deserved it for being an asshole at your house today.

She looked up at him.

– He wasnt. Fuck, Jaime, he was trying to make me laugh.

He raised his hands over his head.

– See! Thats sick, man. Your dad offs himself, blows his fucking brains all over, and this asshole tries to make it funny? Thats sick shit.

She stared at him, shook her head.

He raised his shoulders.

– What? What did I say? Hes the one made jokes about your dad eating a bullet. Whym I getting bitch looks?