"You're Always Backwards"

When Charles arrived back at his apartment, he was greeted by loud shouts. Missy and Spencer were standing in the living room. Rather than cause unnecessary provocation, Charles nonchalantly walked into his bedroom and quietly shut the door.
“YES, but at least I look the world in the eye,” he replied to her accusation.
“Oh yeah, through your glazed eyes,” she mumbled.
“Look it’s fine. You don’t want to see me anymore. Fine. Just don’t put me down anymore than you already have.”
“What pisses me off the most is that you could be so great—if you could go three hours without smoking” she added
“Yeah, well maybe you could be great if you could go three minutes without dragging me down.”
“You’re just a loser, Spencer,” she said, “And I don’t go out with losers.”
“Fine, go out, go meet some new guys. See how far you get.”
“I will. But before I go, I want to thank you.”
“Thank me?”
“Yes, I want to thank you. For giving me this experience. Because it’s something I’m never going to forget. No matter how long I live, I will never forget you, Spencer, and you will always remind me of what to avoid.”
“You’re welcome, then.”
Missy walked out the door and Charles came out of his bedroom shortly thereafter. Spencer was sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. Charles sat down beside him.
“I think it’s time that we go over a few things.” Charles started.
“Okay.” “You’re NOT going to jail, right?”
“I am not. I am on probation, so it would look good if I got a real job.”
“Have you started applying anywhere?”
“I went to a couple head shops and asked if they needed any help. Also a couple vintage clothing stores. They don’t need anybody else.”
“Well what did I tell you? Either you’re going to have to get a real job, or you’re going to have to work for me.”
“And just what am I supposed to do for you?”
“I told you. I’m going to dictate my history, and you’re going to type it for me.”
“Can’t you just type it yourself?”
“I’m better at speaking than I am at typing.”
“How much will you pay me?”
“8 dollars an hour.”
“Fine. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow will be our first day. We can start with my birth tomorrow. It’s a very interesting story, how I was born. I think you’ll find the experience gratifying.”
“Right. I think this is weird.”
“Weird? What more could I possibly do for you? I’m offering you a job here. And when the cops come around, and they ask what you’ve been doing for society, you can say you’ve been writing Charles McCallum’s autobiography.”
“So I’m a ghost writer.”
“Exactly. We will have to get a good photographer when we’re finished. They can take a picture of me in this apartment, and then you can be in the very corner of the frame, and that can be the cover. It will be very funny. And we can call the book “Pure Possibility” and it can say “with Spencer Blackwell” at the bottom. Don’t you see how you stand to gain from this?”
“I guess.”
“Good then. I’m glad we’re going to do something productive.”
“I’ve got to go. See you later.” Spencer left the apartment.