Chickenshit!

So I get word today from my boss that I am to make a pick up at a stylist's apartment for a client return. Thankfully the place is only three blocks away, so I gladly go up there.

Before I leave, Boss hands me the address on a piece of paper. "You're going to David's apartment," he says and waits for my response.

It takes me a moment to realise whom he is referring to. "David?" (Pause. Pause.) "You mean that David?"

"Yeah, sweetie. That David."

A quick flashback to 8 years ago. David was a fellow assistant with me when I last worked here. He was a nice kid and we hung out here and there. It turned out that he was gay (which didn't bother me,) and he liked me (which didn't bother me,) until he tried to make a move on me (which did bother me,) one day while we were hanging out.

I had let that one go, for obvious embarassment reasons. But I made the mistake of entrusting him with my personal effects (my expensive camera and saxophone) when I left New York unexpectedly. I trusted him because after everything I felt he was a friend I could count on, and he promised he would look after my things until I sent for them. I sent for my things a few months later, only to hear David bumble some random excuses about how he gave away those things to his roommates and how he was sorry.

I decided to forgive him for that. But that was 8 years ago. Now, it seems he knew I was back working for the company and I would be stopping by today to make the pick up.

So I get to the place. The doorman calls up. I was expecting to see him, but the elevator opened with just the clothes inside. I wasn't really surprised. What did I expect?

Chickenshit.