Still There

“What the hell was that?” asked Noel.

“Some bum. Wanted a buck,” I said as I tossed the pack of Sixlets to Noel who was laying on the air mattress on the floor, our sole piece of furniture.

I laid down next to Noel and turned on our thirteen inch black and white TV with the vertical hold problem. I gave the television a good whack on the right side and the picture of news anchor Paul Moyer stabilized.

“…leaving prosecutors dismayed at Mark Furhman’s use of the ‘N’ word. Furnell Chatman is standing by at the courthouse…”

I reached over and flipped the dial to channel 11 for reruns of ‘The Simpsons.’ Noel snuggled up against me and we drifted off to sleep.

The next morning we awoke to the obnoxious Fox 11 morning show. I reached over and flipped the TV off. The phone rang.

“Hello,” I said.
“Noel Carver please,” said the female voice on the other end of the line.
“One sec,” I said. “It’s for you.”

Noel took the phone from me.

“This is Noel… uh-huh… sure. Ten o’clock. No problem. I’ll be there.”

She hung up the phone.

“What’s up?” I asked.
“Leeza Gibbons… I’ve got to get going.”

Noel was on call with a company called ‘Unlimited Audiences’ that provides a service that is not common knowledge outside of Hollywood. If a show like Maury Povich, Montel, or Sally Jessy Raphael doesn’t fill all the seats in their audience, they can go to a service like Unlimited Audiences and hire audience members for ten dollars and hour, three hour minimum. This was not Noel’s first time to the Leeza Gibbons show.

Noel headed for the shower and I wandered into the kitchen to make some coffee for us both. I stood absentmindedly watching the coffee brew when a commotion outside the kitchen window caught my attention. I looked outside and could only see my neighbor Stan walking quickly towards his car in the building’s carport.

“I don’t have a goddamned dollar! Leave me the fuck alone!” shouted Stan. He fumbled for his car keys, clumsily shoving them into the lock. He yanked the door open, jumped in, and slammed the door quickly behind him.

The little man tapped twice on Stan’s trunk as the car passd by and then turned around spotting me in the kitchen window. He kissed his index finger and then gave me the universal ‘number one’ gesture. I ducked down below the kitchen counter just as Noel walked in.

“What are you doing?”
“It’s that guy. Get down.”
“What guy?” asked Noel.
“The dollar guy last night.”
“I don’t have time for this.”

Noel grabbed her travel mug from the sink, rinsed it out, and filled it with coffee.

“You working today?” she asked.
“Yeah. Over by Bel Air.”
“See ya later,” she said as she bent down and kissed me.

I slowly stood and peeked out the window. The little man was accosting
someone else in the parking lot. Good, I thought. Since we didn’t have a car, Noel would be going out front to catch the bus. Hopefully, I’d be lucky enough to avoid him as well when it was time for me to leave for work.