But then I haven't exactly been forthcoming with my wife, now, have I?
“I’m having Baxter draw up a contract as we speak. Honestly, I don’t think I have to worry about her bleeding me dry. I had to push her into this. She is not my biggest fan,” I tell him with a self-deprecating laugh, although I haven’t missed the way she watches me when she thinks I’m not looking.
“Hmm...just be careful, okay? But I guess this means we can put in our formal application now, at least with Peterson.”
“It does indeed. Send it over, and let's see what happens,” I answer, the excitement evident in my voice.
“There are a couple of charity galas coming up. The first one is next week, to raise money for the local hospital. It might be worth getting seen out and about with your new bride,” he says wryly.
“I’ll talk to her. I don’t want to throw too much at her too soon because if I fuck this up now and she walks away, I’m screwed.”
“Maybe start with dinner somewhere you know you’ll get seen then. It's a little less in your face.”
“That's not a bad idea. I’m pretty sure, at the very least, I owe her a date,” I muse, pondering where to take her.
He sighs like I’m a lost cause. “If you pull this off, Asher, I’ll give you twenty grand out of my own pocket.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole.”
“And you owe her more than one date,” he adds with a laugh.
If I get my way, I’ll give her a lifetime of dates.
Fourteen
Linda
As soon as he left, I snooped. I couldn’t help it. I’m going to be living with this guy, and yet I don’t know him at all. I let him inside my body once and it backfired spectacularly. I need to know what kind of man he is before I let him inside my heart.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, I don't find anything interesting beyond an extensive collection of comic books and superhero movies. Certainly not anything that sets off any warning bells. No porn stash, which, to be fair, is likely on his laptop anyway. No hidden sex dungeon and no apparent shrines worshiping Justin Bieber. I don't know if I’m relieved not to find anything juicy or disappointed.
It doesn’t take long for the boredom to set in, especially as I’m not one to usually sit around and do nothing. Normally, I would head off to paint, but my supplies aren’t here yet, leaving me with itchy fingers. Fuck it, I could just go and fetch them or I’ll drive myself crazy.
Decision made. I head out, hoping the guy at the front desk will let me back upstairs when I return. He’s trying to calm an angry woman when I make it to the foyer, so I decide to leave instead of adding to his problems. I won’t be long, and if for some reason he can’t let me back up, I can just wait downstairs for Asher to come home.
I hurry to the subway, thankfully knowing the route well. Having a car is a luxury I can’t afford just yet. Besides, parking a car outside my old building would have just been asking for it to get stolen. I’m surprised it wasn’t stolen that first night he visited me
I find the platform I’m after, happy to see I only have a five-minute wait, and hop on when the train pulls in. The journey itself is uneventful. Seeing crying babies, tired parents, and the commuters traveling home from work with their heads buried in their laptops is all the norm for me, and I take comfort in its familiarity.
It's quiet when I get to my old building. Usually, the dealers don't come out until it starts to get dark unless it's the summer. I walk up the stairs two at a time before heading into my apartment. It feels odd being back even though I only left a few hours ago. Perhaps it’s because it never truly felt like home here.
Suddenly, I’m looking at this place with fresh eyes. Yes, it’s clean and tidy, and I’ve made it as cozy as I could on a shoestring budget, but there is only so much you can do to a dilapidated apartment.
I pull off my jacket and decide to box up what I want while I’m here. This will save having people paw through my things tomorrow. Luckily, I flat packed the boxes I used to move in and slid them under the bed for when I left, knowing this was only going to be my home temporarily.
My art supplies go in first. I make sure everything is carefully wrapped and protected in towels and sheets before labeling the box as fragile. Everything else kind of gets tossed in haphazardly. I slip a large sketch pad and pack of pencils into my bag, knowing I won’t be able to carry much else, and move the packed boxes near the door. There, perfect. Locking up, I head outside, surprised to find it dark now. Jesus, how long was I packing?
I jog across the parking lot, ignoring the group of teenagers hanging on the corner whistling at me, and keep going until I make it back to the subway.
Sucking in a much-needed lungful of air, I work on getting my breathing under control as the train pulls in. I need to start working out more, but it's hard when you're allergic to exercise.
Picking a seat near the doors because I’m too tired to move much farther, I pull out my phone to check the time and curse. Hopefully, Asher is still at the office. I didn't even think to leave him a note, not realizing I was going to be gone so long, and I don't have his number to call him.
Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. I pull my pad and pencils from my bag and begin to sketch, losing myself for a little while as I draw. It isn’t until the train stops that I realize I’ve drawn a comic strip featuring a hero with indigo-colored eyes. Slamming the pad closed with a groan, I shove it back into my bag and hurry out the door before it closes.
It's just after nine when I make it back to the imposing building that is now my new home. Crossing over the road, I head to the apartment complex with my arms wrapped around myself to ward off the chill. The temperatures have drastically dropped since I left, the unseasonably warm afternoon giving way to a cold evening, and judging from the gathering storm clouds, rain is on its way. I had grabbed my denim jacket and pulled it on over my sweater before I left, but it isn’t nearly thick enough to offer me any protection from the elements.
I pull open the door to the foyer and groan with delight when the warmth washes over me.
“Can I help you?” I look up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and see a tall Asian man in the same navy-blue uniform Sam wore earlier standing behind the reception desk.
“Hi, I’m Linda…Asher’s…erm…wife. I left earlier before getting a keycard—”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he tells me with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, wait, I’m sorry. I know it sounds far-fetched—”
“If you don’t leave of your own accord, I’ll have security remove you before calling the police.”
“I swear it's the truth. I don’t even need to go upstairs. I can just wait down here.” He picks up the phone on the desk beside him and dials, watching me while he waits for someone to answer.
His eyes rove over my body, from the tattoos poking out from the low dip of my sweater and back up to my rainbow-colored hair. I wrap my arms tighter around myself when his lip curls in disgust, clearly finding me lacking. As he barks into the phone for security, I stand frozen on the spot, trying to decide what to do just as the heavens open outside.