Dead Boyfriend Mix No. 4 By Peter Emmett Naughton
Marin made a left onto Thacker and crossed over the railroad tracks just as the last strains of Nick Lowe‟s “Heart of the City” faded from her speakers and was replaced by a staccato, shuffling drumbeat and a slinking bass line. She ignored the track at first, concentrating on the traffic in front of her, but a moment later the muted guitar chords started and Justine Frischmann‟s cooing vocal came oozing into the compartment. Marin screamed and slammed her hand against the dash, barely resisting her urge to wail on the horn. “Alec you fucking twat! That‟s the third time this morning!” Marin shouted and snapped off her stereo. The knob was still for a moment and then slowly turned back the other direction and the song continued: ...so many.....decisions; it's impossible; to know, which is; the proper order, the best position, to be...in; take advantage, or so it seems, the way it go oh whoa, oh whoa, oh whoa, oh whoa, oh whoa, oh whoa, oh whoa, oh whoas.... Marin gripped the wheel and pretended it was Alec‟s neck. “You know I used to love this album before you decided to make it your new personal soundtrack! First you ruined The Specials for me and now this!” The song continued to its end and then faded from the radio just as Marin pulled into the parking lot at work. “Jesus, you look like hell.” Marin said as she examined herself in her visor mirror. The clip in her hair had popped out sometime during the ride over and was now hidden safely among the detritus in her car. Her left hand had one nail completely broken off and another badly chipped. “Thanks a lot Alec. Going to make a great impression at the morning meeting.” Marin said and gave her car the finger as she strode off towards the front entrance. No one at the meeting said anything or if they did they had the courtesy to say it behind her back. In truth Marin doubted that anyone had noticed. Most of her colleagues at Arco spent their days confined inside their cubes. The morning meetings