“Don’t get your panties in a twist, boss. I came to drop off the papers.”
I let the sarcastic emphasis on the word boss slide. “You can’t be here without the proper . . .” I gesture to him up and down, and the word shit is on the tip of my tongue, but I repress it. “Without the proper attire,” I finish. “Anyway, I told you to take the papers to the office. If you’re not going to take this seriously, I don’t want you here.”
His pinched expression melts away. “Jesus, did you just say the word attire? You really are the boss, aren’t you? My mind is blown, cabrón.”
And just like that, a smile is tugging at my lips. Anger and Jorgie have never gone together.
“Get out of here, would you? Get your paperwork in and don’t come back till you’ve been hired and you’re wearing the proper fucking attire.”
He salutes me. “Aye, aye, captain.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Ya vete.” Just go.
The rest of the day is busy, but without incident, which allows my mind to wander while I work. By the time 4:30 hits and I’m heading for home, it’s not Jorgie who’s burned a hole in my mind, but her. Of course, now she has a name and she’s gone from abstractly starring in one of the most stressful moments of my life to being a real person. Since I know myself and it’s clear that I’m not going to be able to let this go, I make the snap decision to get this over with.
She lives just on the other side of the 101. Her address is only about a five minute drive from my house, but it’s in a much better neighborhood. It’s not until I’m approaching the main door of her apartment building that it hits me that this might not be the greatest of ideas. Showing up at her home? It’s creepy, isn’t it? Shit, if I were her, I’d probably call the cops . . . which is ironic on so many levels.
My feet stall out on the sidewalk as I face the glass doors to her building. Do I go through with this? Do I forget it? Except, I can’t seem to forget it. So, I guess if she reacts badly to my showing up, I’ll apologize and leave. It’s not like she knows where I live.
I pull her paystub from my pocket to confirm her apartment number. I’ve just entered it into the building’s intercom system when I hear footsteps come up behind me.
Turning, I need a few seconds to piece together that the woman with the pony tail and flushed face who’s approaching is the woman I’m looking for. If I didn’t recognize her from her height alone, I’d remember those eyes. They’re as wide with shock and surprise as they were a few nights ago. My stomach swoops with nerves and . . . something unidentifiable.
Her head tilts in question. “You?” she says, a little out of breath because she’s been out jogging.
“I, uh, yeah . . . you remember me?”
The building’s old intercom system finally connects and fills the air with a loud ringing noise that draws our attention to the keypad.
“Yeah, of course I remember you,” she says with a slight frown. “The world must be smaller than I thought.”
The intercom rings again and I search for the button that will disconnect the call as I say, “I’m actually here to see you.” It rings again, but this time she reaches around me to stop the racket.
“Me?”
Hesitantly, I face her again. Her tone has a definite edge to it now.
“Yeah, I, um –”
“How do you know where I live?” she demands, her hands settling on her hips.
Ellie
Initially, it had been wonder – unexpected wonder – because holy shit, my stranger is standing right in front of me, like my thoughts had magically conjured him out of thin air. If ever there was a pinch yourself moment, it was thirty seconds ago.
Now though, reality hits me with a cold slap and wonder becomes alarm.
His hands come up in a placating gesture. “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s not?” I say incredulously.
One of his hands slips behind his back and suddenly the three feet between us is not enough. I step back, my heart rate ticking up. But it’s only a piece of paper, not a freaking gun. Good grief.
He holds it out to me. “I went by your work today. I wanted to thank you for . . . for what you did.”
That he’s uncomfortable mollifies me a bit, at least enough to take the paper from him. It’s my paystub from today. What the hell? I glare at him. “You actually thought it was a good idea to show up at my apartment after what happened?”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “No. Listen, I . . . no matter how we met, I swear I’m not a criminal. I just wanted to thank you, which I’m doing now.” He takes a deep breath. “Thank you so much. If there’s anything I can ever do to repay you, I will.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds. Honestly, he looks sincere and my inner alarm bells have stopped clanging, so when he makes to leave, I stop him.
“How do I know you’re not a criminal?” I ask, only half-joking.
He considers me for a moment, then his lips tip up slightly as he pulls his wallet out and hands me a well-folded piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“My paystub,” he says with a bit of triumph.
Unfolding it, I glance over the information. “What’s this supposed to prove, Prescott?”
His eyes narrow at the emphasis I put on his name. “It’s Scott, and it proves that I’m a completely respectable guy, Elsabeth.”
He says my name like it’s obvious I’ve won the worst name contest. I hold back a smile by biting the inside of my cheek. “It’s Ellie, and respectable guys don’t get chased by the cops, Scott.”
“They do if they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, Ellie.” He shifts uncomfortably. “But seriously, I just came to say thank you and I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I’ll get out of your way. Have a good night.”
And with that parting statement, my stranger is walking away from me. My stranger who now has a name. Scott is walking away from me for the third time, and something inside of me rebels.
“Did you mean it?” I call out to him.
He turns. “What’s that?”
“That if I ever needed anything, you’d help me out? Because I have this thing.”
His brows rise in question.
“There’s this guy coming in like twenty minutes to look at some stuff I’m selling on Craigslist,” I say sheepishly. “Would you mind sticking around till he’s gone?”
At his seeming confusion, I go on, well, ramble really, “I know I don’t really know you, but I know you a lot more than the guy who’s coming. If you don’t have time, I completely understand. It was just a thought. I’ve been kind of nervous about it all day, and then you show up here and –”
“Okay, no problem.”
“Okay? Really?” I let out a breath of relief, both because our time together isn’t over and because now I don’t have to meet a potential psychopath alone. “Thanks.” The Velcro of my armband squelches loudly as I pull it off to get my key out. Not surprisingly, the lock on the front door hasn’t been fixed yet, so I have to buzz someone to let me in.