Neighbors And Favors

by Kate Davis

  “You broke into my apartment to tell me that you’re leaving?” I finally say.

  “I wanted to give you this letter.” Something white shimmers in his hand. He puts it down on the table. “I’m leaving.”

  I stare at him incredulously. “You broke into my apartment to leave a note to tell me that you’re leaving?” I finally say.

  “No.” He hesitates. “Okay…Now that you’re putting it that way, yes.”

  “So there’s no murder plan? No plan to kidnap me?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. I was just talking to myself. What time is it?”

  “Half-past one.”

  What? In the morning? What’s with this guy and his nocturnal visits?

  “Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell like normal people?”

  “Because I didn’t want to alarm you.”

  I snort. “Yeah, like the ring of the doorbell in the middle of the night would be more alarming than waking up to find a burglar in your house.”

  “With you I wasn’t sure,” Shane says softly. I can almost feel his smile, but maybe I’m imagining that too.

  “Why aren’t you switching on the lights?” Come to think of it, that might not be such a good idea given that I can’t remember what I’m wearing or whether my hair’s a mess or whether my makeup is smudged or—

  “Better not,” he says. “Just trust me.”

  My curiosity’s piqued. Why not? Has he turned into a vampire or some hideous creature right out of Eastern European folklore? I want to ask and bite my tongue to stop myself from doing it. I’d rather not know than let him see me in a disheveled state while the blonde’s always dolled up. I obviously can’t compete with that and so I find darkness is a gal’s best friend.

  Something else is bothering me, too.

  What’s with the secrecy?

  I blink in succession as my brain tries to come up with possible explanations. “What are you doing here again and how did you get in?”

  That’s when it dawns on me. He doesn’t want to switch on the lights because he’s not a murderer after all. He’s a burglar, the usually very quiet kind. He never figured he’d wake me up so I could catch him in flagrante delicto.

  My head snaps to where Sammy is sleeping, and everything begins to make sense. He’s stealing my sweet, cute Pomeranian. Didn’t he joke about something like that? Whether she was a show dog? He probably set his eyes on her that instant. I can see it all clearly now. His insistence to walk her. Spending time with her, probably to bond.

  Shane is here for Sammy. He was trying to steal my dog. But why would he want to wake me up to witness his crime?

  I feel like jumping up and down with joy. Mystery solved. Case closed. Never mind that my reasoning makes no sense. I could be the next Sherlock Holmes, minus the gore and the gruesome murders, obviously, because my stomach doesn’t do so well in the presence of blood.

  “Shane, wrap up your little romance. We need to leave.”

  I turn my head to regard the back of a woman in the doorway and realize the door to my apartment is now wide open. The hall beyond is pitch black, but even in the absence of a light source the blonde ponytail is unmistakable.

  “Give me a minute,” Shane says.

  He brought his girlfriend along to his break-in? That’s why he doesn’t want to define the relationship. She’s his partner in crime and they’re hooking up every now and then. Nothing serious on his part while she would like more.

  “Look, Shane, you got the wrong apartment. I have nothing of value.” Apart from my dog, but I’m not going to point that out to him.

  “I already told you I came to say goodbye.”

  Oh, right!

  That doesn’t quite fit into my equation.

  “Wait, you’re not here for Sammy?”

  “Why would I be here for your dog?” Shane stares at me for a moment. “I woke you up to say goodbye.” He takes a step toward me and reaches for the mug I’m still clutching in my hands. I surrender it half-heartedly because, let’s be honest, it was never going to impose any serious threat to him.

  I remember him saying that before, which doesn’t make much sense. Why would anyone break-in to rob you blind and then stop to say goodbye?

  “We’re on the way to the airport,” Shane continues. “Thanks for everything.” He reaches to touch my hand, then seems to change his mind.

  In the bizarreness of the situation, my brain finally grasps the meaning of his words. “You’re running from something.”

  I don’t know where the statement’s coming from but it rings true. He remains silent. My mind comes up with countless reasons as to what he could be running from. I think back to the time when he closed the door to his bedroom in front of my face. What was he hiding?

  “Does it have anything to do with the strange black screens in your apartment?” I prod.

  “You saw them? I always hoped you didn’t.”

  I laugh. “I would have had to be blind not to. There’s a gazillion of them. What are they?”

  “The darknet.”

  The what?

  “That’s all I can tell you,” he continues. “Anything else would put you at risk, so the less you know the better. But once things blow over, I’ll be back and I hope you’ll agree to a new start. Maybe we’ll get to know each other the conventional way.”

  The conventional way?

  I just stare at him as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. By the life of me, I don’t know what to make of him. All I understand is that he’s leaving under strange circumstances. The mystery around him has just deepened.

  “Sounds good.” I smile ruefully. “Call me.”

  “Sure.” He doesn’t sound convinced. His tone basically screams that he’ll probably have forgotten about me the moment he’s out the door. He leans closer and gives me a peck on the cheek. It’s all harmless and very British-like. “Take care, Samantha.”

  “You too.”

  He grabs his note from the table and heads out, leaving me wondering what the note was really all about and how my Pomeranian, who is supposed to be a watchdog, can sleep like a log.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A few days later, the Shane mystery has found its way into my book. I made him a British spy, then deleted it, then turned him into an international criminal, charming and really good at his job. He’s fallen in love with the intended victim of one of his newest schemes, but he’s put his job first and leaves her behind, albeit with much regret and a broken heart. It’s not your usual soppy book ending, but who cares? The world isn’t exactly a string of happily ever afters. Just look at the recent divorce statistics. People don’t know how to commit anymore, unless it’s the new iPhone, in which case once married to Apple it’s for life, and no one ever switches partners.

  Anyway, the manuscript’s done. All I need to do now is change names, places, anything that could remotely hint at the true identity of the characters.

  I leave my laptop booted up and the document open so I can start editing…as soon as I’ve had my caffeine fix.

  I take Sammy for a nice, long walk in the park and then head to Starbucks. To my relief, Rashid isn’t working. I know I can’t avoid him forever, but I’m not ready for any questions he might throw my way.

  “I’ll take the full-fat latte and a Danish, please,” I say to the barista. She eyes me doubtfully for a moment, her gaze literally screaming “are you sure you want to go full fat today?” Granted, my top’s gotten a bit snug and the jeans don’t feel so stretchy after all, but I have reason to celebrate. And what better way to celebrate than with coffee and a nice cheese Danish? It’s not like I’ll eat the whole thing. Sammy will get a few crumbs of cheese, too, but only because she’s heard the magic word. The moment I take my first bite she’ll start barking and won’t cease until I’ve at least let her lick the crumbs off my fingers. She is rather determined—that’s what I call a dog who knows exactly what she wants and isn’t a
fraid of getting it.

  With Rashid not in, my usual table’s taken so I settle for the next available free spot, which is perched between the toilets and the door to the stockroom. I’m sipping my hot latte and taking ginger bites of my Danish when I spy Rashid rushing across the street.

  “Excuse me,” I mumble to the woman sitting next to me. If she heard me she doesn’t look up from the novel in front of her. The margins are filled with illegible scrawl, which instantly reminds me of Madeleine Albright.

  One day someone will be sitting at a café, making notes inside one of my books. But first I need to finish it, so the more reason to get back home and avoid talking to Rashid.

  The door swings open. Rashid comes in, rushing right past me, as though he doesn’t see me. For a moment I breathe out, relieved.

  And then he turns and his gaze is filled with what looks like reproach. “Samantha, you haven’t been in for a while.”

  “Yes, well, I was busy. Still am. I just came in for a quick refill of my caffeine reserves.” With a tentative smile, I hold up my coffee.

  He nods, but I’m not sure that he believes me. “Can we talk?” He looks at the door leading into the staff area and then adds, “Outside?”

  “Sure.” I gather my things and follow him out the door.

  For a moment we just stand in front of the coffee shop, unsure where to start. “How did things turn out with…what’s his name?” Rashid asks eventually.

  “Shane?” I wince at speaking out his name. So far, I’ve been avoiding everything related to him. Everything except him being the protagonist of my book, which is why I still haven’t talked to my parents in case Mom asks about the non-date (let’s face it, she would!) and then I’d be forced to tell her about his sudden departure. That, in turn, would lead to more questions and before I know it my parents will have him tracked down so he can keep true to his word and get to know me.

  Which I’m sure he didn’t really mean. He was probably just trying to be polite. My advice: don’t trust British men. They might not have nice weather, but they sure have good manners. Before you know it, they’ll be gone with a chunk of your heart.

  Not that I’ve lost my heart to him or anything.

  “Sam?”

  I focus back on Rashid and realize he’s staring at me with a frown. “Sorry, did you say something?”

  “A blonde woman came in a few days ago and asked a lot of questions. Who I was. How I knew him. She held up the photo and was quite persistent.”

  My stomach clenches. I don’t need to ask whether she was wearing running gear to know that it was Stacy. If Rashid told her about me, then she shared that with Shane. No wonder he couldn’t get away fast enough from the nutcase who called him a stalker.

  “What did you tell her?” I squeeze out through the lump in my throat.

  “That I didn’t know the guy and it was just a prank.” He shakes his head. “The entire situation was very strange.”

  “Did you mention me?” Waiting for his answer, I hold my breath. The two seconds he takes to reply feel like the longest of my life.

  “No. I didn’t see the point.”

  Relief floods through me. He regards me as though he wants to say more but decides against it.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  I want to say more, too. That I’m sorry the evening didn’t turn out as I would have wanted. That he’s a good person and a good friend while I feel I’m none of those things because I don’t feed the poor and don’t do anything for other people like Rashid’s been doing for me for months. Granted, he only kept one table reserved because he thought I was a real author, and he wanted me to have privacy. But even such a small gesture is more than I’ve probably done for anyone in the last ten years combined.

  “Well, I need to get going.” I turn to leave, then turn back, changing my mind. “Hey, how’s your sister?”

  “Good.” Rashid’s grim expression suddenly brightens. “She finally fought her way through all her gifts.”

  I smile out of politeness.

  “Sam,” Rashid starts, hesitating. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  Oh, no!

  He gazes down at his feet while letting out a deep breath.

  I’ve been afraid this moment would come eventually. No one ever does anything for anyone out of goodwill. There are hidden motives, disguised intentions, secret crushes. From the first moment we met, he’s been too nice to me, and now I’ll be forced to break his heart.

  I clear my throat. “Yes?”

  “I’m getting married this year and my girlfriend’s moving here. She doesn’t know anyone and I thought you might—” He shrugs and says something else.

  All I hear are the words “girlfriend” and “married” echoing in my mind. A stone, no, make that a boulder, is lifting off my shoulders, and my tentative smile turns into a huge grin.

  Rashid’s getting married. I’m so happy that he wasn’t going to ask me out or worse, declare his crush on me. I’m so relieved I could hug him.

  “Your girlfriend’s coming over,” I repeat, tuning back into the conversation.

  He nods and his eyes light up just like they lit up a few minutes ago when he mentioned his sister. “From Pakistan. I haven’t seen her in a year, and I want her to feel at home.”

  “Of course. I’ll do what I can.”

  His smile widens. “Maybe show her around a bit. Go shoe shopping or do whatever women do.”

  “Shopping should work. How long is she staying for?” I make a mental list of all the places in NYC a foreigner would want to see. There are the obvious attractions like the Museum Mile and Times Square, and then the not-so-obvious gems like the Rooftop Gardens at Rockefeller Center.

  “The plan is indefinitely,” Rashid says.

  “Because you’re getting married. Makes sense. Congratulations, by the way.” I can’t help the melancholy creeping over me as my thoughts drift to Shane.

  Shane who’s left with Stacy and their non-defined relationship.

  Shane who I wish had just left without leaving all those “what ifs” and the “if onlys” behind.

  There will be other Shanes in my life, there has to be, I know it. But from where I’m standing the future looks bleak—like a huge, black hole that’s about to swallow me up whole.

  “Thank you.”

  “You can count on me. I’ll introduce her to a couple of my friends and she’ll feel like she’s home in no time.”

  Rashid regards me for a moment. I can feel the shift in conversation before it comes. “Sam, listen. I didn’t want to say anything because I have no proof but friends are honest with each other at all times, aren’t they?” I nod and he continues, “When that woman popped in and asked me about the picture there was something strange about her. It wasn’t just her clothing.”

  I swat my hand. “She’s always dressed in running gear. She’s probably into marathons big time.”

  He frowns. “What? No. It wasn’t that. It was a suit, like the kind you see in Men in Black. She bought a coffee and when she paid, I think I saw a gun holster.”

  I laugh. He can’t be serious. I imagine the blonde clad in a black suit, holding up a Neuralyzer, and laugh again. “Which movie? The one with Will Smith or the International franchise, which was so bad no wonder he ducked out of it.”

  Rashid frowns again, ignoring my Men in Black related question. “Do you know her?”

  “You mean the woman who came in?” I shake my head. “Probably not. You’re probably talking about someone else, given that the blonde I’m talking about only ever wears running gear.” I shrug. “It was probably someone else.”

  “Maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Anyway, after the incident with your friend, I saw him at the soup kitchen again. He was talking to the pastor. It seemed serious. When they saw me watching them, he hightailed it. I’ve never seen anyone run out like that.”

  I try to make sense of his words. Obviously, we’ve moved on fro
m Will Smith and Men in Black, but just to make sure, I ask, “You mean Shane, right?”

  “Yes, the guy you like.”

  “Wait, I never said that I—” He shoots me a knowing look and I roll my eyes. “Whatever, please continue.”

  “I found it all very strange so I followed him out. I saw him get into a black Sedan. The windows were tinted but when he opened the passenger door to get in I saw that the blonde woman was driving. The same one that came in here to ask questions. She didn’t look too pleased with him.”

  “Maybe his girlfriend’s not into community service?” I offer. “There’s nothing strange about that.”

  “Maybe.” Rashid shrugs. “If you don’t find it strange that it’s the same woman then I won’t either. I need to get to work.”

  “And I need to get to my book.” I point behind me at the busy street. “I’ll see you around?”

  He nods and heads inside. Standing outside with my hand clutching my coffee, the magnitude of Rashid’s words begin to sink in.

  A blonde woman dressed in a suit and carrying a weapon came in to ask him questions. The same woman picked up Shane in a car. Maybe they just looked similar and it wasn’t the same person after all, even though Rashid seemed completely sure of that.

  But why would the blonde switch from running gear to a suit and carry a gun?

  “This makes no sense,” I mutter to Sammy as my mind begins to spin with theories and questions.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I’ve barely entered the building when a whiff of my mother’s perfume wafts over, which instantly makes me stop in my tracks.

  She’s here. I know it because Chanel is her fragrance of choice. She’s been wearing it ever since I was born. I think even her breast milk smelled like it, which is probably the reason why I preferred formula. Even years later, the scent is so nauseatingly overpowering it would probably make for a good air freshener for the bathroom.

  This can’t be happening. What is she doing here?

  But I know the answer to that even before I’ve finished forming the question inside my brain. I should have texted back. I should have answered the phone. I shouldn’t have let my parents worry about me, because when they worry bad things happen.