THE BELL MUST have rung twenty times. Sue and I remained still. I was hoping whoever it was would finally give up and go away, but then a harsh voice said, "Hey, Ricky, open up, will ya? Come on, I gotta talk to you, for Christ's sake. Charlotte, I know you're fuckin' there too.

Come on, I heard you guys talking. Will you put your fuckin' clothes on and let me in?"

"Who the hell's Charlotte?" I whispered Sue gave me a Who do you think, stupid? look as the bell rang again.

"Come on, what're you gonna do, make me break the fuckin' door down?" the man said. "Come on, Ricky, what're you doing, getting your dick sucked in there? Come on, open up!"

There was more ringing and then the guy started banging on the door. It sounded like he was using his fists.

"I better let him in," Charlotte said, getting up.

I grabbed her arm. It felt like I was gripping a broom handle.

"Sit down," I whispered.

"We gotta let him in," Charlotte said, "or he'll»

"He'll go away," I said.

The banging was getting louder.

"Come on, Ricky," the voice said. "I know you're fuckin' in there, you little piece of shit."

"You don't know Kenny," Charlotte said. "He won't go away. Ricky owed him money, and he won't leave till he gets it."

The banging continued.

"Take the body in the bathroom," Charlotte said.

"The bathroom?" I said.

"Open up!" Kenny said. "Just open the fucking door."

"I'll be right there!" Charlotte called out.

The banging stopped. I looked at Charlotte, wanting to strangle her.

"Go," she whispered.

Avoiding looking at Ricky's face, I lifted him by the sneakers. The body wasn't as stiff as I expected it to be, but it was stiff enough to remind me that he was dead. I backed into the bathroom, taking little shuffle steps. There was barely enough room for a toilet, a shower stall, and a tiny sink. The body and I didn't fit at least, not with the body horizontal. The banging on the door continued and the doorbell kept ringing, but I couldn't tell what the guy was saying. I lifted the body up under its shoulders. At first, it was facing me, which was getting me kind of sick, so I turned it around one hundred and eighty degrees. Then I became aware of an odor of shit, probably from a postmortem bowel movement, and I couldn't hold back. Somehow I made it to over the toilet in time, managing to keep the body upright as I vomited. Charlotte poked her head into the bathroom.

"What the hell're you doing?" she whispered.

I upchucked again. It must've been old food, because it felt like battery acid was passing through my throat.

"Come on, just flush," Charlotte said.

Then, from outside the apartment: "Come on, Ricky, Charlotte, just open the fucking door. Jesus."

"I'll be right there!" Charlotte called out, and then she leaned around me and flushed the toilet.

"What're you doing?" I said weakly. Talking hurt, as if I had tonsillitis. "Now he'll know somebody's in the bathroom."

"Just get in there and shut up," Charlotte said.

Gritting my teeth, I lifted the body and carried it in front of me into the shower stall. It was a small, cramped shower, tiled with what had probably once been off-white or light yellow tiles, but they were brown now, covered with soap scum and mildew. I tried to prop the body upright against the back of the wall, but it kept slipping forward.

"Come on," Charlotte whispered urgently.

Grinding my back teeth, I held on to the body as I tried to close the shower door. The door was corroded and kept popping open, so I had to stand there with one hand on the door handle, the other pushing the body back against the wall. The stench of shit was worse now and I was trying not to breathe too deeply.

Charlotte left the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the locks on the front door turning and then the door squeaked open.

"About fuckin' time," Kenny said. "What were you doing, hitting up?"

I heard heavy footsteps entering the apartment.

"So what the fuck took you so long?" Kenny asked.

"I was in the bathroom, puking," Charlotte said.

"What'd you do, suck a rotten cock?" Kenny laughed. "So where's my boy, Ricky?"

"He's not here."

"You're shittin' me. He said he'd be around tonight."

"Well, he's not."

"You sure he's not hiding somewhere? The fuckin' prick owes me money."

Footsteps headed in my direction. My entire body tensed.

"Don't go in there," Charlotte said.

The footsteps stopped.

"Why not?"

"I had the shits too."

"You must've sucked a lot of rotten cocks." Kenny laughed.

The footsteps headed away, but I couldn't relax. It was Kenny's voice.

It had sounded vaguely familiar before, but now I knew where I'd heard it last night, at the bar. Kenny was Eddie Lomack.

My body temperature seemed to go up ten degrees. Fucking Charlotte had lied to me about a lot more than her name.

The conversation continued; I'd missed some of it.

"Gino's?" Kenny asked.

"I don't know, maybe," Charlotte said.

"Why would he go to Gino's?"

"I didn't say he went there. I just heard him saying he might go by there later."

The talking and the footsteps sounded farther away. Maybe they were near the futon now.

"You sure he didn't jump out the window and go down the fire escape?"

Kenny said. "I coulda sworn I heard you talking to somebody before I started knocking."

"It was the radio," Charlotte said.

"Son of a bitch," Kenny said. "I lent him a hundred last night, said he needed to buy some food, but I shoulda known he'd just blow it on more junk."

"Look, he's not here. Just check Gino's, all right?" Charlotte said.

"You're really hard up, huh?" Kenny said. "What's the matter, Ricky blew all his money on his own stash last night, didn't share anything with his beautiful whore girlfriend?"

"Look, Ricky's not here, so why don't you just get the fuck outta here, you fuckin' asshole."

"You don't look too good, sweetheart," Kenny said. "Yeah, you must be hitting it hard these days, huh?" I pictured him smiling, the way he had last night at the bar while he was distracting me with pictures of the centerfolds. "Probably going through, what, ten, fifteen bags a day? Probably hadn't had any in what, a few hours? Yeah, you're real hungry now."

"You got some or not?" Charlotte said.

"Come on, you know I'm on the fuckin' juice," Kenny said. "But look what I do got… It'll buy you a couple bags. Keep you going another few hours… Hey, not so fast. You're gonna have to work for it, baby."

"Come on, Kenny, just gimme it."

"What, Ricky's not around, so what difference does it make? In fifteen minutes you can be scoring, baby. Then you could be back up here, cooking it up nice and sweet it'll make you feel so good, baby. Bet you haven't felt that good in a long time so long you probably forgot what it feels like. But hey, it's up to you. If you don't want it…"

"You want to fuck me, stop talking and take your little dick out,"

Charlotte said.

"Little?" Kenny said. "That look little to you?"

The apartment got quiet, and then Kenny said, "Yeah, like that, bitch.

Work it just like that." Then, about a minute later, I heard Kenny's moaning. It sounded like a sick animal, or a dying one. He was talking too. At first I couldn't make out the words; then I could hear some of them. It sounded like dialogue from a bad porno movie.

He was saying, "Keep doing it like that… Yeah, just like that, bitch … Fuck me harder, yeah… Keep fucking me that way… Yeah… Play with my balls now… Yeah, play with those balls, you little slut." I didn't know what was making me more nauseous: holding up a dead body or trying to fight off the images of Kenny and Charlotte that kept coming to me. The aftertaste of vomit in my mouth wasn't helping, and I had to concentrate on more pleasant things sunny weather, the ocean, solid food, a beautiful woman Rebecca. No, not Rebecca. Shit, anybody but Rebecca. Angie. Yes, Angie. Angie's face to keep from throwing up again.