“I don’t need a woman. I can get myself off just fine without the bullshit drama.”
“That has to be the hangover talking. We both know your hand ain’t half as good as a woman’s tight wet pussy or mouth. Besides, it’s about more than the release. All of us need that closeness, the connection to another human being.”
“God, you are so fucking pussy whipped. It’s seriously pathetic.”
“No, man. You’re pathetic lying here in your own filth and pity, drinking your life away! You’re better than this, Nash. So, get your ass up, get a shower, find your dick while you’re in there and then use the damn thing! You’re legally single again. There’s no more of that ball and chain holding you back.”
“I’m good right here on my own.”
“No, you’re not. That’s what I’m trying to get through your thick skull! You need a woman, the sooner the better. Hell, I bet that bubbly new neighbor of yours would be happy to come up here and suck your dick for you.”
“My new neighbor?” I say with my brow furrowing in thought before I realize who he’s talking about. The little girl on the roof? “For fuck’s sake, Malcolm. She’s a child!”
“Newsflash — she’s twenty-five, almost twenty-six.”
“Really?” I say in disbelief and shock. From what I remember of her silhouette, she was so tiny I had her pegged for eighteen at most. “Wait. How the hell do you know about the new girl and how old she is?” I ask.
“She’s kind of cute with her glasses and freckles, right?” Malcolm asks with a smirk while dodging my question. I had no idea she had either since I didn’t get a look at her face.
“There’s nothing ‘cute’ about jailbait.”
“Lucy is perfectly legal, and not nearly as sweet and innocent as she looks...”
“Wow, you know her name too. I’m not even gonna ask,” I huff while scrubbing my palms down my scruffy face that hasn’t been shaven in weeks. Although, now there is a tiny, curious part of me that is wondering what he means about her not being sweet and innocent.
“Lucy and I got to know each other this morning when she came to tell me about your little stunt on the roof, asshole!”
Now it all makes sense, why Malcolm came barging in and won’t leave me the hell alone.
“I don’t know what the fuck she told you, but whatever it was, she was probably exaggerating.”
“So you weren’t standing up on the goddamn roof drunk as fuck contemplating throwing yourself over the edge or using the gun you dropped?”
“I was just drunk and messing around. She came out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me. That’s it.”
“Well, it must have looked really fucking bad for the girl to seek me out at the pool hall. I just checked, and there’s a fucking combination lock on the door to the roof. She must have added that after catching you ‘messing around’.”
“What the fuck?” I mutter. “How did she find you?”
“Not entirely sure. But my guess is that she saw your cut and then did a little online research. Apparently, she’s really good with computer shit.”
“The next time I see her, I’m gonna tell her to research how to mind her own goddamn business.”
“You do that,” Malcolm agrees when he stands up. “And your ass better stay off the goddamn roof! That’s an order! Now, where the hell are the rest of your guns?”
“My guns? What about them?”
“I’m taking them with me, even if I have to search every nook and cranny in this filthy hellhole.”
“Help yourself, asshole,” I say. I’m not going to help him find a damn thing.
Chapter Four
Lucy
* * *
For the past few hours, I’ve turned my car and apartment upside down looking for my cell phone, knowing it has to be here somewhere. I had it with me for turn-by-turn directions to the pool hall earlier today, and then it just disappeared. Using my laptop to track it hasn’t been much help either since it must have died. The last location it pinged was here in the apartment building around thirty minutes ago. I even dumped my purse on the floor to sort through each and every item, thinking I somehow overlooked the thick brick, but it wasn’t in there either.
The sudden banging on my door sounds ominous, and not just because I was watching Sinister on Netflix.
I haven’t made any friends in town yet and didn’t place any orders in for food tonight, so I have no idea who could be outside my apartment.
Tiptoeing over quietly while barefoot in my strawberry print cami and pajama shorts, I put my eye up to the peephole and then blow out a breath when I recognize the bearded man with long brown hair. But what the heck is Malcolm doing here? He must have made good on his promise to check on Nash, but how did he know which apartment was mine?
Since he didn’t give off any psycho vibes earlier today when he was holding a baby girl, I unlock the chain and deadbolt to pull the door open and find out.
“How’s your grumpy friend doing? Still breathing?” I ask, concerned for the poor, depressed soul.
“For now,” he grumbles while running his fingers through his wavy locks, still wearing his leather vest and jeans.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Jesus?” I blurt out while leaning my shoulder on the door frame. That’s always been a problem of mine, saying whatever I happen to be thinking without a filter. Malcolm’s lips frown underneath his facial hair.
“Looks can be deceiving, can’t they?” he replies with an eyebrow arched.
“Sure they can,” I agree offhandedly.
“Take you, for instance,” he says. “You look like a goody-two shoes that’s young enough to sell girl scout cookies. When, in fact, you’re a troublemaker.”
“I don’t think I know what you mean,” I respond innocently around an audible gulp.
“Maybe this will refresh your memory,” Malcolm replies. Reaching behind his back, he pulls out a cellphone in a bright pink case. I’m about to make a comment about the odd color choice for such a tough-looking man when I realize it’s not his phone but my phone in his hand.
“You found my phone!” I exclaim in relief.
“Found. Borrowed. Browsed. Possibly all of the above,” he says with a smirk.
“What? Without my face or code, you couldn’t have unlocked it,” I reply defensively.
Like a magician, he reaches behind him again, this time pulling out my cloth, floral wallet that matches my purse from his pocket.
“Jesus! What the hell!” I exclaim since I didn’t even realize it was missing. “You stole my wallet too?” I jerk both items out of his hands and use my elbow to try and slam the door in the thief’s face before he blocks it with the toe of his boot.
“Not so fast,” he warns, pushing the door open a few more inches. “A girl as smart and technically savvy as you really should come up with a better passcode. I mean, using your birthday month and date is just child’s play.”
Great. So, he figured out my passcode, getting my birthdate from my driver’s license and went through my phone.