Romp in Paradise

Chapter 1 - Wednesday

It’s 11:09 in the morning on a Saturday in Tempe, Arizona during the summer and Amber was just getting home from a bustling Friday night. Her boyfriend Nathan was dropping her off.

“I can come in if you want, but I have work at four,” he says.

“It’s okay, I know you’ve had enough of me,” Amber says. She’s joking, but at the same time knows what he’s thinking. He wants to chill out for a couple hours, probably smoke some pot and not think about her for just a little bit of time.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks. “You’ve been acting weird all morning.”

There was that dreadful word. Babe. He had started saying it toward Amber for the past few months. At first it seemed like a trick he was doing just to get some sex, but now it felt more real, if only for a little bit.

“It’s nothing,” Amber says. “Alexa’s just been stressing me out.”

“Come on, it’s just a little roommate problem,” Nathan says. “It’ll blow over really soon.”

“Can’t you just let me vent for like five seconds?”

“Okay vent,” Nathan says.

“Fuck man. Something’s up with her. She’s been staying up late, obsessing over articles and videos, conspiracy theories, I don’t really fucking know to be honest. I haven’t seen her come out of her room in a while.

“She’s a journalism major and going to school. All these things make sense.”

“That’s true. I can’t really explain it to well. You’d know if you spent as much time with her as I do. I still love the girl, she’s my best friend. But everywhere she goes, people around her just get some weird vibes from her. It doesn’t help that she carries her damn camera around everywhere she goes. It’s getting annoying.”

Nathan pulls out a clean Turkish Royal from a cup holder and lights it up.

“Give me one of those, Jesus,” Amber says.

“She’s still part of the business.” Nathan says, taking a slow drag from his smoke. He puts his hand on Amber’s thigh and looks her in the eye. “Please keep her under control and don’t let her film anything stupid.”

“Babe, relax, I’ll talk to her.” Amber says, grabbing his hand tight.

“I know you will,” he says. “I love you.”

“I love you too, text me back tonight,” Amber says.

And with that, she kissed Nathan goodbye and walked out of the car across her unkempt grassy lawn to her front door. She tucked her black hair into a ponytail and watched his brown Honda civic sputter off into the sunset until there was nothing but college houses on the horizon. The sky was a little more blue than normal. Amber admired that as she finished her cigarette, before storming into her college pad.

“Alexa!” she yells. This is her roommate. Amber’s not exactly happy with her at this very moment.

Outside light from the sun seeped through a window in the middle of the room, creating a glare that shined on the house’s big screen TV. Amber’s demeanor had changed drastically from how she was acting with Nathan the second she walked through the door.

“You won’t sell to Ronnie, what the fuck?” she says, taking off her shoes and stepping onto the kitchen floor. The tile feels cold against her feet. She rips into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a tiny Ziplock baggie filled with fifty little pills of Molly. It’s worth a lot of money, but right now Amber wants to throw this bag hard against the surface of her marble island in the kitchen. Instead, she clenches her black nails against the plastic at the last second; a tiny slit is left to expose the pills to the outside world.

Amber yells again, “Alexa, get the fuck out here!” A tired voice answers from down the hall.

“Calm down man, I was on the phone.” A short girl comes walking toward the kitchen wearing red pajama pants and and a black sports bra while holding a bowl of cereal on one hand and a black handheld video camera in the either, a red light glowed at the top of the lens. Alexa winced at the sunlight bleeding through the screen door to the back of the house and grabbed her pair of black sunglasses she had left on the kitchen table.

“God damn, we have blinds.” Alexa says, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“How high are you right now?” she says.

“Babe, it doesn’t matter, Alexa says. ”What matters is I just got off the phone my cousin. We’re about to make bank.”

“And you’re filming our discussion about drugs.”

“Don’t blame me. Blame the journalism school.”

“How the hell is this school appropriate conversation?”

“I just like seeing my life unfold through the eyes of an electronic recording device.”

“Alexa,” Amber says. She spins the bag of Molly around on the smooth table, her fingers dancing nervously arose d the bag. “What is happening with Ronnie?”

Alexa takes a seat at their kitchen table, crossing her legs. She reaches over to Amber to calm her down, grabbing her shoulders and placing her in a chair beside her.

“I should’ve talked to you about this earlier, I’m sorry baby,” She reaches over to Amber to calm her down, grabbing her shoulders and placing her in a chair beside her. She then reaches for a glass bubbler on the table and proceeds to smoke whatever was left inside. Her smoke puffs into Amber’s face.

“You just blew that right at me,” Amber says.

“I want you to get high,” Alexa says.

Amber was having it up to the top floor with Alexa’s shit. She smacks the bubbler onto the tile; murky water from the pipe adds an ominous green color amidst the shards of glass.

“What the fuck Amb-” Alexa is cut off.

“You can’t be playing these backdoor deals with me,” Amber says. “You need to start letting me know what the hell is going on.”

“Or what?” Alexa says. “You gonna go fuck your drug dealer and leave me out to dry?” Amber is furious.

“You bitch. I’m running around this town keeping both you and Nathan happy, while you’re sitting in your room, smoking pot and chatting with some Mexican pot pusher-”

“Abraham,” Alexa says. The letter “a” in his name is pronounced like ah instead aye. “He’s my cousin.”

“Okay, who the fuck cares?” Amber yells.

“This cousin of mine just scored us fifty grand,” Alexa says. “You still pissed?”

“Okay, that’s not such a bad thing. But what’s going on with Ronnie? Why won’t you sell to him?”

“Ronnie, that bum,” Alexa says, laughing. “I won’t sell to him ‘cause he’s a jackass.”

This was that guy from high school who got way too high all the time and now still works at the grocery store. He pretty much lived off of Amber and Nathan’s weed business, or maybe it was the other way around.

“Aren’t you fucking him?” Amber asks.

“If I’m fucking him, I’m fucking him,” Alexa says. “It’s not that big of a deal, would you please just calm down?”

“Okay, so back to the business then.”

“Let’s talk business later,” Alexa says. “You’ve got me worked up now. And Ronnie’s not that attractive anyways, but you on the other hand. I mean, goddamn.”

And with that, the two girls begin making out. Amber jumps on top of a seated and unprepared Alexa, her chair making a scratching noise against the floor as it pushed on the kitchen table. A buzzing noise began to pulse from the back pocket of Amber’s jeans. Alexa wrapped her hands around Amber’s neck and pulls her closer.

“Don’t you dare pick up that phone,” she whispers into Amber’s ears. It buzzes again.

“Just let me see who it is,” Amber says. She puts her hand around Alexa’s throat, gripping it tight while casually playing with her phone, drawing out the time it takes to answer. Alexa was loving it and so was Amber.

“It’s my mommy,” Amber continued, her fingers closing in harder on the skin of Alexa’s neck.

“You’re such a tease,” Alexa says.

Amber answers the phone to the dismay of Alexa, but she’ll be able to wait just a few brief moments and it all be fine for her.

“You’ve kind of caught me at a bad time,” she answers cheerily, but her brother Chris isn’t reflecting the same type of emotion.

“You need to come home,” he says.

“Chris, what’s wrong?”

“Dad is dead.”

“What, no he’s not.”

“Yeah he is, you need to come home, mom is freaking out right now.” Amber takes her hands off Alexa’s neck and grabs a chair to take a seat looking distraught.

“What the hell just happened?” Alexa asks. Amber is still on the phone.

“Okay, I’ll be right over,” she says hanging up the phone. Her face looks like she saw a ghost.

“Amber, please I want you.”

“Alexa, I’m not exactly too sure what just happened, but I think my dad is dead.”

Chapter 2 - Still Wednesday

Nathan’s roommate Eric is packing a bowl with his friend Ryan, talking about all that comes with their mundane, college lives. They live in an old Tempe rental similar to Amber and Alexa’s house. It’s sunny out, and the smoke from the pipe is shining with grace from the rays all throughout the living room.

“I’ve always liked how the smoke looks when it fills the room,” Eric says. “It’s got a very heavenly vibe, like Kanye West. He would love the minimal feel I’m going for with this whole smoke thing. When you picture Kanye up there onstage, it’s just him and some clouds, like he really is some type of God. You can’t deny that the smoke in here looks eerily similar, don’t you think?”

Ryan looks at Eric with a bloodshot glare of both understanding and confusion wrapped into a perfect stoned smile. This is all housed in a brain somewhere near his cranium. That little peanut was pulling its circuits together with an industrial fervor to figure out a response to such a dramatic description of smoke.

“It reminds me… of a magician.” Ryan says, dragging his words out. “A magician tells his audience he’s going to disappear, right? He goes through the motions, Ava Cadavra, on the count of three, whatever. Boom! The dude’s gone, leaving only a puff of smoke behind him.”

“What the fuck are we talking about?” Eric says, laughing.

“There’s a point to this. So you got smoke and Kanye. Kanye puts up all this smoke before his show starts and then, BAM! He appears and does his show, like a rockstar, or a God, or whatever you want to call it. But if we’re going to learn anything about this guy, I think you’re right. It does come down to the smoke. Maybe we’re supposed to look at the smoke not as something leaving us, like the magician disappearing, but as something big coming our way in the future, something powerful, something mean and frightening, and genius, like Kanye fucking West.”

Shaun takes another hit from a worn down blue pipe that cost about ten bucks. The smoking apparatus, or Betsy as it was known to by this group of stoners, was purchased by Nathan at a corner store near Amber’s house. They used to smoke together when they first started dating. Now, it seemed rather unproductive to be doing that at this point in their relationship.

“Have you seen Nathan today?” Ryan says.

Eric responds, “I haven’t seen Nathan in three days.”

“What’s going on with him?”

“As if I know. His girl is probably giving him some killer head.”

Nathan wasn’t receiving amazing oral sex. In fact, him and Amber were in the thick of their finals at school and were spending time together through academic knowledge and studying. Other than the occasional game of footsie and the soft touch of her hand against his arm, there was only a quiet library and a mutual respect for each other as they pondered their textbooks and powerpoint lecture slides.

“When I came home last night, all the doors were unlocked, and the lights were on,” Ryan says. “He must have been home.”

“He really left the doors unlocked?” Eric says. “I’m not gonna even lie, that bugs me.”

“Come on man, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“There was a robbery just a month ago right across the street from of us. A guy was shot at CVS down the road for God knows what. I don’t want to take my chances with leaving the door unlocked.”

“I think you’re freaking out a little bit here,” Ryan says, chuckling. “This is college. Roommates do stupid things like this. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“When was the last time Nathan ever cleaned anything in this house?” Eric says.

“So now you’re mad about cleaning?”

“It’s just everything, man. These things add up. The cleaning, the doors, the way he walks around thinking that he’s some kind of a king around these parts because he sells weed.”

“You’re smoking his weed right now,” Ryan says.

The doorknob shuffled and in walked Nathan. Eric coughs a large puff of smoke while Ryan sits there holding back a smile.

“Is that thing still going?” Nathan asks.

Eric and Ryan’s previous conversation would have to wait. When shit can’t be talked behind someone’s back, words disappear and turn into silent syllables that are heard through the eyes, not the ears. Body language speaks louder anyways. However, Nathan has other troubles to worry about and doesn’t pick up on this. Eric hands him the pipe while looking at Ryan, a face of hostility that was begging for confidentiality through the form of an inaudible threat. Ryan wouldn’t say a word.

“It’s been a while,” Eric says. “How you been man?”

“Did you miss me?” Nathan says.

“It’s been nice without you.”

“I missed you,” Ryan says.

“Glad to see someone cares,” Nathan says.

“That’s what happens when you leave me with all this weed,” Eric says. “I get a little stony and forget who my friends are.”

Nathan takes a big rip. Smoke sneaks out of his mouth through a cough, but the rest is held inside for a good ten seconds until it all comes out smoothly.

“Speaking of the weed, I’ve got a new come up that’s gonna make us a ton of money,” Nathan says.

“You found a Scottsdale guy?” Eric asks.

“I’m the Scottsdale guy,” Ryan says.

Nathan responds, “Jesus man, pull yourself together.”

“I’m stoned man, I’m sorry,” Eric says.

“It’s chill,” Nathan says. “Remember I went down to Mexico for a little bit, doing some biology stuff for school?”

“You never studied biology,” Ryan says.

“I know what you’re talking about,” Eric says. “This is where you threw up blood off the balcony on Mexican biology research center.”

“Love that memory on you,” Nathan says.

Eric blows him a kiss.

“See what happens, Nathan,” Ryan says. “You’re gone for three days and Eric turns into a faggot.”

“I hope that had nothing to do with you,” Nathan says.

“It had everything to do with me,” Ryan responds, laughing.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a gay roommate,” Eric says.

“I’d be pretty weirded out,” Ryan says. “I don’t care if they’re gay or anything, they can do what they want, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of two dudes making out in the door right next to me.”

“I hate to break this to you,” Nathan says. “But Eric’s been gay this whole time.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eric says.

This playful banter of slightly homophobic dialogue was just commonplace in this Tempe college house, as it surely was in many homes across the city. For these three boys, being serious was a rare occurrence, and while it was fun to have a smile on and pretend like everything was alright, an underlying theme of failing at the American dream and eternal loneliness still haunted their brains. Each one of them came from a family that supported itself, maintained a moral and professional source of income, put children through college, and yet here were their kids, smoking up in Tempe figuring out a way to make money selling weed. In a way, they are capitalizing on the American dream. Surely the greats like Ford and Rockefeller would support their entrepreneurial spirit.

Nathan continues, “On the real though. I met this dude from Mexico that is going to hook us up.”

“Let’s see here, Mexico, drugs, hook-up, all in the same sentence,” Eric says. “That is not safe at all.”

“He’s not some gangbanger, don’t worry,” Nathan says. “He’s a research assistant at this place in Mexico. It’s called Vaquita Marina.

“That’s a cool name,” Ryan says.

“It basically means water cow,” Nathan says, laughing.

“English just isn’t very majestic,” Eric says.

“We’re getting way too sidetracked here,” Nathan says. “So this guy, Abraham. He’s telling me about this music festival going on at the beach down down there in Rocky Point. Lots of cool music, beautiful girls and lots of money.”

“And lots of ways to get caught,” Eric says. “This is Mexico, man. That place will eat you alive. It’ll eat all of us.”

“I’m with Eric on this one,” Ryan says. “What we’ve got here in Tempe is fun, it’s safe. I don’t need to push it.”

“You’re really not gonna work with me on this?” Nathan asks.

Silence follows as Eric and Ryan look down at their phones. A yawn can be argued to be contagious and so is the act of taking out a phone. Nathan joins his roommates and pulls his computer in a box out of his jean pocket. He notices he has three missed calls from Alexa.

“I’m meeting with him in a week,” Nathan says. “Think about it.”

He leaves Eric and Ryan to be by themselves in the living room and goes to return Alexa’s call in his own messy bedroom. His door is open and his side of the conversation can be heard through the house.

“Sorry I missed your call,” he says. “What? Are you serious? Where’s Amber? Okay, I’ll be right over.”