Until We Say Goodbye

by Jane Drager

  Deems shot a quick glance around the landing. The four doors on this floor were in serious need of new paint. Duct tape sealed tears in the thin carpet, and mildew scented the stale air. No way in hell did Lauren deserve such a dump.

  Clearing his throat, Eric dropped his hands. “Talk to Lauren for me, pal, and tell her I’m sorry. Both of us want her back.” He nodded toward Lauren’s door. “Jan’s apartment is a hell of a lot better than this flophouse.”

  Deems silently agreed. Only one bulb lit the entire landing, creating too many areas of darkness. God forbid what creatures wandered at night. “Take a walk, Eric, and do not come here again, understand?”

  “I can’t guarantee that, man. I want to make Jan happy.”

  Eric leaving Jan would make Deems happy. Actually, ecstatic. Forcing himself to maintain eye contact, Deems stepped to the side and pointed to the staircase. “Go!”

  Something about Eric’s posture put Deems on the alert. The man wasn’t the least willing to leave. Eric stood a few inches taller and had a long arm reach but was nowhere near equal to Deems’ weight. Deems stiffened his back. “Don’t challenge me, Eric. I can make your life miserable.”

  Eric cocked a brow then nodded. His shoulders slumped, and walking past Deems, he lowered one foot onto the first step then paused, his jaw tight. “Jan doesn’t know I found Lauren.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t. Did you plan on surprising her by dragging Lauren home with you?”

  “Something like that.” His forced smile twitched. “Talk to her, Deems, for Jan’s sake.” He ran down the stairs.

  Jan’s sake, my ass.

  Across the hall, the door to room eleven cracked open to the length of a metal security chain. An old woman peered through the opening. “Is he gone?”

  Deems stepped toward the door. “Yes, ma’am. Has he been here before?”

  She motioned with her head toward Lauren’s door. “He picked the lock yesterday. I called the cops, but they got here too late. They always come too late around here.”

  Through tight teeth, he sucked in a breath. “Did he break in?”

  “Yeah. I heard him moving around, but he rushed out, cursing and empty-handed.” She clucked her tongue. “That girl doesn’t belong here.” She slammed the door in his face.

  If Eric’s sole purpose was to return Lauren to Jan’s, why would he bother searching her room and risk a burglary charge? What the hell was he looking for? Shaking off the frustration of too many questions, he knocked on door number twelve. “Lauren, Eric’s gone.”

  The doorknob rattled, and a scraping sound followed.

  When the door flew open, a woman drained of color fell into his arms. Breathing in her familiar vanilla scent, he held her tight. Gone was the proud, confident woman of an hour earlier. She trembled in his embrace, and a longing too emotional to ignore swept through him. Every fiber in him wanted to protect her, and he fought the overwhelming desire to scoop her into his arms and carry her to safety.

  After a time, the trembling subsided, but she stayed in his arms, face buried against his chest, and her hands in loose fists. His heart ached to see her so afraid, and he silently cursed Eric, and then Jan. No one should live in fear.

  She sniffed. “I won’t ask why you’re here.”

  “I’ll tell you anyway.” He tilted her chin upward to see two glistening emeralds clouded with tears. “I spotted the Hispanic guy following you. When did you see him?”

  “About a block off Fifth Avenue. He kept his distance, so I figured he wanted to know where I lived.”

  “What about the black sedan?”

  She jerked back slightly, eyes wide. “What sedan?”

  “A man grabbed the Hispanic and threw him into the rear of the car.”

  “Oh—wow! I wondered what became of him. I guess he pissed off someone else.” She replaced her head onto his chest. “Not like I care.” She rubbed her nose. “So, you followed me, too?”

  “All I wanted was to see you home safe. Even when the sedan whisked away the Hispanic, I still followed only to see Eric run inside.” Slipping his fingers under her hair, he rubbed the nape of her neck. “Please don’t be mad.”

  She made no attempt to leave his arms, and her trust created a manly sense of pride to swell within his chest. What if he hadn’t followed? Would that lazy piece of shit in the lobby get off his ass to call the cops? He kissed the top of Lauren’s head. “Your neighbor claims Eric already broke in.”

  “Yes, she told me. I can’t imagine what he wanted.” Patting his chest, she stepped from his arms and used her hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

  The color had returned to her face, but her eyes stayed an extraordinarily deep green. They were so beautiful they literally took away his breath. Using one finger, he lifted her chin. “You’re not mad I followed?”

  With a strained smile, she met his gaze. “You’re watching out for me in ways no man has ever done. Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I had just grabbed my phone to call the police when I heard your voice. Your timing was perfect.” Taking a step toward him, she stroked her fingers along his jacket lapel. “I wet your suit.”

  “Like I care.” He closed the door and took stock of its security, which was none. No dead bolt, chain, or latch. The only lock was a keyhole in the doorknob, and any hairpin would do the job. How the hell did she sleep at night? He jiggled the loose knob. “This door won’t keep anyone out, Lauren.”

  “I know. When I’m home, I jam a chair under the doorknob. I’d buy a chain, but I’ll need tools. The landlord offered to put one in for fifty bucks.”

  “How kind of him.” He scanned her room.

  The dimensions were no more than eight by ten with a single bed, its mattress indented in the center from age. A hot plate stood on a rickety wooden table along with a two-cubic-foot refrigerator. The table looked ready to collapse from the weight. No TV or rugs, one dirty window with duct tape covering a broken pane, and a yellow-stained roller shade for privacy. On the dresser sat a white plastic bag folded down to reveal a half dozen Granny Smith apples. Fighting a shudder, he’d seen bigger closets. However, one noticeable absence struck him. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  She pointed to an opening near the bed.

  Walking over, he pushed on an accordion door to see a toilet with a rust-stained sink. No shower. His gut wrenched. “You’re not staying here.” He faced her. “Come home with me. I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

  Eyebrows furrowed, she shook her head. “As tempting as that sounds, no, Deems. I’m indebted to too many people already.”

  Struggling to keep his voice level, he waved an arm at the door. “But Eric can return at any time. What then?”

  Jaw set, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll look for a new place tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll find a cheaper room.”

  “Will you at least take some money?” He whirled his hand toward his back pocket.

  “Don’t you dare take out that wallet!”

  Eyeing her closely, he scowled. “You are a stubborn one and too damn proud for your own good.” He scanned the room with scorn. “You don’t deserve a place like this.”

  “I don’t deserve my life turned upside-down either, but shit happens.” She approached and splayed a hand on his upper arm, her gaze tender. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, but time for you to leave. I’m tired.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll be all right.”

  Her words accomplished very little to alleviate the dread growing in his chest. One last night and no way in hell will she stay in this hellhole. He vowed to find her a decent place to live.

  Chapter Ten

  Damn that Eric.

  Lauren cussed him repeatedly as she hurried to class the next morning, defying the law by crossing on the red light like so many others. Lock me away, I dare you!

  Eric would return. The man was determined to get in her pants. Well, guess what, Mr. Eric Drummer? She’d defend herself and beat the crap out of him. From the day she watch
ed him saunter into the apartment, she hadn’t liked his lecherous looks and secretly questioned his loyalty to Jan. But how the hell could Jan believe that Lauren Howell would hurt their relationship by going after her boyfriend? Like I’m so friggin’ desperate.

  All right, so he found me. How was the question? No way in hell could she miss that tall, lanky body with his mop of stringy hair. Unless he followed in his car. But his jalopy had a hole in the muffler the size of a watermelon. She’d hear the rattle two blocks away. Not to mention his notorious trail of smoke from the bad head gasket. Regardless, come lunchtime, she’d buy a newspaper and scan the ads for another place.

  Damn men with their gutter morals. They took what they pleased without considering the implications. Her ex qualified for the top spot on the shit list. Jo-Jo played her for a fool. He asked her to marry him, suggested joint bank accounts, and then took over the bill-paying, because keeping the books was his job at the car dealership. As early as high school, he had always been good with numbers. She hadn’t realized how good until he cleaned house. Then, to discover he withheld the apartment rent from as far back as her layoff. What a shocker. With the security deposit depleted, she sold her engagement ring and borrowed the remainder from her parents to pay the overdue rent. Otherwise, a collection agency would hound her to the brink of insanity.

  She glanced both ways before crossing at Seventy-Third Street. Thinking back, her sudden unemployment triggered a change in her ex. He converted from a cheerful, gregarious man to a sullen and argumentative one, and they fought for the most asinine reasons. All too often, he stormed out, threatening never to return, and then crawled in like a puppy who wet the floor, begging for forgiveness. Hell, she hardly understood what to forgive. As the best car salesman at the dealership, he made enough money to pay the rent and utilities without her paycheck. So, what happened?

  He’d left no clue as to why he disappeared. His family denied knowing his whereabouts. Her happily-ever-after dream had shattered into a thousand pieces. Now, she was flat-broke, owed money to the church and her parents, and had no place to live except over her parents’ garage.

  The last fact irked her the most. From the first day of college, she’d managed her life and survived on her three-D murals plus food server jobs at several Gettysburg restaurants. She alone paid for her college education straight to a Master’s degree with only minimal help from scholarships. But now, with the educational system in shambles, she might be forced to forget teaching as a career and concentrate fully on her art. Three-D murals and stained glass were two of the biggest options in interior design.

  At the next crossing, she hurried as the light turned yellow. The morning was beautiful, a perfect day to walk with the air crisp and the overhead sky a clear blue. She missed the sights and scents of spring back home, mostly the sweetness of apple blossoms floating through the air and their soft, white petals blanketing the grass. The predominant odors in New York were car exhaust and the occasional whiff of garbage from a nearby alley. Damn city-slickers don’t know what they’re missing.

  Her cell phone rang midway up the next block. With her heart rate kicking into high gear, she smiled at the sight of Deems’ name. If she ever decided to give a man another try, she’d definitely choose Deems. He showed when she needed him most, like the proverbial light at the end of a dark tunnel. If she wasn’t careful, she’d break her own rule of staying clear of men and fall in love with him. She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hi. I’m on my way to class.”

  “What time is lunch?”

  “One o’clock. Antonio gives us an hour. Why?”

  “I’ve a new place for you and within walking distance from the studio.”

  She stopped and stared at her phone before returning the unit to her ear. “How do you know where the studio is?”

  “Simple deduction, my dear, and the use of the Internet. You mentioned the name Antonio a couple of times, and maybe that’s how Eric found you and followed. Want to see the place?”

  She winced. The area around the studio was too swanky. “How much?”

  “I’ll meet you outside the studio, and we’ll discuss the details. And no, I’m not taking you to my place. See you at one.” He disconnected.

  A car horn blared and scared her half out of her skin. She had stopped in the middle of a crosswalk, shocked by his news. Pulse racing, she mouthed an apology and hurried to the curb.

  Why was this man always coming to her rescue? He was the most thoughtful man she’d ever met and wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or leery. She had absolutely no excuse to turn him away, except for her do-not-get-involved vow. But, in truth, she was drawn to him in a way she hadn’t expected.

  Instincts told her he had more than a casual interest. Yesterday at the park, she had seen the smile tugging on his lips and the shine in his brown eyes, and unable to resist, she kissed him. Not deeply, but she pretty much killed their friendship agreement. After Jo-Jo, she hadn’t wanted any part of a relationship until she arranged her life into some semblance of order. Friend or otherwise, Deems complicated her entire situation. And so what? A woman couldn’t ask for a nicer complication.

  As the time passed, she counted the minutes for the clock to strike the one o’clock hour and barely listened to a word out of Antonio’s mouth. Deems was the reason for her pounding heart and scatterbrain, not the prospect of a new apartment.

  “Hey—yo! You’re soldering the wrong side!”

  Lauren jumped at the sound of Barbara’s voice, her partner for the day. She stared at the glass pieces on the table in front of her. “Where?”

  Barbara flipped a glass piece and pointed. “Shiny side down.”

  “Oh.” She almost ruined the entire design. “Sorry.”

  With her sleeved arm, Barbara brushed her straight black hair from her face. “You’re in la-la land today. Maybe you should give me the solder gun.” She took the gun from Lauren’s hand and soldered the two pieces together. “Want to talk about what’s bothering you? I know the look, honey. A man’s involved.”

  Lauren couldn’t deny the accusation. All morning, her gaze darted to the front windows. Deems would be waiting outside, and that handsome man affected her in ways she hadn’t expected. Smiling, she turned to her classmate. “I’m heading out the door at the stroke of one whether Antonio approves or not.”

  No exaggeration either. When the clock chimed one, she grabbed her backpack and flew toward the exit. Deems stood on the sidewalk alongside a big, black man, both impeccably dressed in business suits. A silver limo stretched behind them, polished to perfection and glowing in the afternoon sun—although, the black man’s bald head created the brighter glow.

  After marveling at the beauty of the limo, she locked gazes with Deems. He smiled, and her breath hitched. The man had become her knight in shining armor. She desperately fought to control the desire to throw herself into his arms. Clearing her throat, she raised a brow and pointed at the silver limo. “Yours?”

  Deems waved a nonchalant hand. “Company limo and our driver, Lou.”

  With a polite tip of his head, Lou nodded. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Howell.”

  The chauffeur had at least fifteen years on Deems, but his size and broad shoulders plus a six-foot-five frame left no doubt that he doubled as a bodyguard. With bright dark eyes but a serious expression, he opened the rear door.

  Deems took her elbow and waved toward the opening. “I said we were within walking distance, but I don’t want you to waste your lunch hour. We’ll eat on the way.”

  Eat? With her heart fluttering and butterflies threatening to pop out of her mouth? He must be joking.

  Her steps faltered by the door while her gaze shifted to Lou then Deems until resting on the inside of the limo. She’d seen this type of scenario in the movies, where strangers lured the unsuspecting victim into an expensive car only to meet The Enforcer and die a horrible death. I really should stop watching late-night movies. She trusted Deems. He wouldn’t come to her rescue t
hen toss her to the wolves, right? So, taking a deep breath, she removed her pack and stepped inside.

  He slipped alongside her.

  The smell of new leather hit her nose. Combined with pristine carpeting and sparkling chrome, hell, this vehicle had rolled right off a showroom floor. Giggles threatened to erupt. She’d never been in a limo, not even for a funeral, but she couldn’t ignore the sudden lift in her spirits. She’d been down-in-the-dumps for months and always questioned her decision to come to New York. Now, sitting next to Deems and in this plush limo, she let hope seep into her psyche…at least for today. She would enjoy Deems’ company and the luxury of the brushed leather seats beneath her butt. She ran her fingers along the carpet-covered door to feel the softness. “Wow! If you’re trying to impress me, you’ve succeeded.”

  “Seatbelt, please.” He pointed.

  She snapped the belt before the limo glided into traffic.

  The buildings zipped by as Lou skillfully maneuvered around buses and illegally parked cars. They left the studio’s location on Seventy-Fifth and Madison, and Lou stayed on Madison, traveling through the upper east side of Manhattan, an area she hadn’t seen since everything was way out of her price range—food included.

  Deems stretched forward and opened a small, glass-covered cooler full of wine, beer, soda, and water. A white deli bag had been crammed in the middle.

  After grabbing the bag, he opened the fold and took out a large, paper-wrapped sandwich. “We’ll share a ham and cheese.” He handed her several napkins, opened the wrapping, broke apart the sandwich, and handed her half. “Water or soda? I won’t feed you the wine or beer. I don’t know if you drink alcohol, but mainly, I don’t want you drunk for your afternoon class.”

  She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “Water, please.” She spread a napkin across her lap and then pointed to the fridge. “What, no champagne and caviar?” She bit into the sandwich and rolled her eyes as the flavors of honey-roasted ham and melted Swiss cheese hit her taste buds. “Oh, my God, this is so good!” She hurriedly ate another bite.