The Slip

‘Do I call 911?’

Garret stepped from the stairwell onto the walkway leading to his apartment. Seeing Scooby, standing at the far end, he stopped short. Instinct told Garret to find another route.

They’d never spoken. He wanted nothing to do with the guy.

Scooby’s reputation afforded him plenty of space. No one crossed his path on purpose, except for customers. Why would they? How many regretted it?

Plenty of ugly rumors about Scooby. Who tests such a rumor?

‘What possible thing did old Mrs. Leary do to offend him?’

They found her lying in the elevator, unable to walk. She never pressed charges, though. He said, she said.

She stayed in her apartment now. Stopped coming to the rec room for movie night. Garret missed her.

‘I’m on my floor. Not his. Why’s he hanging out here?’

It didn’t look like Scooby was up to anything nefarious. But one never knew.

‘Probably killing time ‘til a customer shows.’ He thought, ‘I’ll just play with my phone… No… want my hands free.’

Garret averted his gaze. He gripped the railing and put his peripheral vision to work. ‘Minding my business, as Skye says…’

He remembered the complex before Scooby moved in. It was a relaxed place. Quirky, of course, but not dangerous. An oasis. He came and went as he pleased, whenever. Watched movies with everyone in the rec room. Sometimes all night. No longer.

‘Scooby. Who names a kid Scooby? No one. Sounds harmless, as nicknames go. Fun. Engaging. But for a thug who traffics in drugs and women? Scooby’ll get you if you don’t watch out… Ridiculous.’

Of course, most of what he knew of Scooby was rumor. No one witnessed his crimes. Garret had no doubt they were true.

Some things weren’t rumors. Garret complained about the loud music many times.

‘Skye didn’t do anything. Never does. Slip of a thing’s the building manager. Barely holds down her chair. Do Scooby and her have a thing? Or is she scared?’

She told Garret to mind his own business.

He said, “What if my business is not getting attacked by his buddy’s pit bull? Or beat up in the courtyard? Or I can’t sleep because of awful, loud music at 2am?”

‘How many nights have I lain awake with his ‘music’ rattling the windows?’

Skye wouldn’t hear it.

‘No, my business is paying my rent and steering clear of Scooby and his creepy customers.’

Looking askance at Scooby, Garret became impatient. ‘What’s he waiting for?’

Scooby moved toward him. Garret’s blood pressure surged.

‘Well, here he comes. Like he owns the place. Maybe he does.’ Garret remembered what Skye said about Scooby. ‘Avoid him.’

Garret told Skye, “That’s it? I live here. But I need to plan my activities around Scooby? Doesn’t seem fair.”

Unimpressed, Skye said, “What’s your point?”

Garret pressed her. “That predator has rights over everyone?”

Holding her look, she crossed her arms.

“Is this management’s policy? Or yours?”

Skye sighed. “I am management.”

“Really? What do you manage…? To roll over and play dead…?”

“Don’t go there, Garret. Cross Scooby at your own risk. Not worth it. Why fight it? Save yourself a world of hurt.”

“At least, get him to play better music?”

She gave him her ‘are you serious?’ look.

“So, that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So, the women, the drugs, late-night chaos… tiptoeing around criminal activity…”

“Garret, do you not hear me? What don’t you get? Stay away. Don’t make eye contact.”

Garret watched Scooby taking his time. He stopped to scratch his leg. Checked his phone. Leaned on the railing. Stared into the courtyard. Kids ran, playing tag and screaming. Scooby had all the time in the world.

Garret barely recognized the man whose fearsome presence intimidated the complex. Was he seeing him for the first time? Stripped of his reputation, Scooby was no giant. No force of nature. Nothing impressive.

‘Why is everyone afraid of this punk?’

Not bigger than Garret, he was lean, almost gaunt. His clothing draped loosely like over an artwork about to be unveiled. Larger than life, his attitude created a presence. His explosive potential influenced people far beyond his mere physical stature.

He got closer. Garret stood his ground. Leaning on the railing, he feigned nonchalance.

‘Just minding my business as Skye says.’

Whistling, Scooby passed behind Garret. Without warning, he punched Garret in the back of the head.

Sharp, blinding pain brought Garret to his knees. Somehow, clutching at the railing, he stayed upright and conscious. Dazed, Garret pulled himself up.

Scooby pranced like a pro-fighter. Ridiculous in his baggy clothes.

“What the…? Are you nuts?” Garret rubbed the back of his head and winced.

Dodging and weaving, Scooby eyed him warily. “Why’d you call the cops on me, douche?”

“You’ve lost it. What’re you talking about? I never did that.”

He hadn’t.

“I know you did.”

Darting out, Scooby shoved Garret against the railing and danced back.

Garret gripped the railing. He looked around. No one.

He called out. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

Grabbing his shirt, Scooby got in his face. “Shut up, fool.”

Clinging to the railing, Garret tried fending him off. But out classed and one handed, he got punished.

Garret said, “Wait… Wait!”

Scooby stopped pummeling him.

“What’d she tell you?”

“So, you did call them. Snitch…”

“No! You don’t get it…”

Scooby pressed Garret over the railing. He strained not to topple back. Garret tried head butting him. Scooby dodged and hit him from the side. Fading, Garret clung to the railing. The punching stopped.

He pulled himself up and shook his head. Scooby was gone.

‘What?’

A couple watching from the stairwell pointed at Garret’s feet. He looked down.

Scooby lay writhing on the floor. His eyes bugged. His mouth worked but no words came. Erratic gestures and guttural sounds were all he could do.

Garret wanted to kick him, but searing pain distracted. He rubbed his nose and saw blood on his hand. His shirt had streaks of red. He wiped his hand on it. ‘Ruined…’

Gurgling drew Garret back to Scooby. He mouthed silent words. ‘Help… help me…’ He coughed and went limp.

‘Shut up, fool…’ echoed in Garret’s mind.

Garret stared. Scooby’s spasms were not willful.

‘Could walk away. Let it end here. Who’d miss this jerk?’

Garret stopped. In that eternal moment, a flicker of an eye, Scooby’s mask had slipped and revealed the man behind the monster. Ferocity betrayed fear.

Garret refused Scooby’s lost power.

Fishing his phone out, he dialed 911.

The operator answered. Garret gave the address.

“Yeah… Emergency... Man down… second floor. Don’t know... Heart attack? Drugs? He fell… Lost consciousness... Dying. Maybe dead.”

He knelt and felt for a pulse.

“Yeah… weak… Sure… okay. Hurry.”

He slipped his phone away, rested his head onto his knees and sobbed.

The paramedics came, did what they could and took Scooby to the closest emergency room.

Scooby survived.

While recovering, some things changed. Competitors snagged his business. Scooby adapted. He harnessed his violence and became a security guard.

He and Garret didn’t become best friends. But in deference, Scooby modified his late-night play list to include Garret’s favorites.

Mrs. Leary returned to movie night again.