I go back to his bedroom and wait a few more minutes, grab the remote and change the channel (from Terminator to America's Next Top Model – hey , if I gotta wait around, I might as well be entertained doing it, right?). I watch TV for a few minutes. He still doesn't show. It's getting late now. Like, he's 20 minutes late. So that’s when I really start checking out his stuff. His keys are on the nightstand, so is his cell phone. He wouldn't leave the house without those, right? So where the heck is he?
And that’s when things went from weird to freaky.
I hear a noise from the closet. I look up and, I swear to heaven, a body part falls out.
A. Body. Part.
It looks like someone's knee. Or elbow. Definitely flesh-like. I freeze. Has someone been in the closet watching me this whole time? I get up and walk out of the room, totally casual like, pretending I didn't see anything. I'm thinking either a) he's been sitting here watching me from his closet (creepy!), b) he was doing something totally embarrassing when I walked in and hid in the closet (double creepy!) or c) there's a dead
body in there (beyond creepy!). I wait in the kitchen, letting my pulse return to normal (and giving anyone hiding in there a chance to get out and slink away), then slowly go back in his room.
Yup, the knee is still there. Sticking out of the closet. Not moving at all.
This is where I proved that my reporter skills needed a bigger shot of bravery. AA braver reporter would have investigated. She would have peeked in the closet, found out who the knee was attached to, why they were there, if they were, in fact, alive.
Me? I grab my purse and bolt. Hit the front door, run to my car, lock the doors, peel out of there so fast I burn rubber, and drive straight home.
Needless to say, that was the end of me and Fight Boy. He called me later (in fact he called about twenty times in a row, prompting me to shut off my phone), but honestly, there was no explanation that would ever have made me go back there. The best I can think of is that he somehow passed out in his own closet. That's best case scenario. Worst case… my fingerprints were all over a crime scene.
Luckily, I did find my bravery mojo eventually, and in Hollywood Confessions I do actually investigate a death. And, yes, his body is without a doubt dead. ;)