by Aly Martinez
“I’m gonna take off. Let me know if this works out. Thanks again for your help, Till.” Daniel pulled out the other half of the money he owed me and passed it with a handshake.
“No problem. Any time.” I tucked the cash in my pocket and turned back to Scott. “Let’s go check it out.”
“Sure. Have a good trip,” he called to Daniel over his shoulder as he headed up the stairs.
I followed behind him, hiding the smile that was working its way onto my face regardless how hard I tried to fight it.
“I work nights and sleep during the day, so you won’t see me much. I’ve got a girl who lives across town, so I stay over there sometimes on the weekends.”
We walked through the door, and he immediately stilled as we were greeted with loud music blasting through the floorboards.
“Shit. She must be at home. Okay, so maybe this is a good thing.” He let out a huff that showed me that what he was about to say was anything but good. “Look, the only catch to this place is that the building is shit. I swear I think the floors are made out of tissue boxes. You can hear everything that goes on in the apartment downstairs. It’s a real nice girl who lives there, but her taste in music is almost criminal. She treats us to Justin Timberlake at least once a day. I got pissed when we first moved in. I went down to bitch that her music was too loud, but I swear to you it was louder in our place than it was in hers, so after talking to her, I just let it go. It didn’t hurt that she’s sexy as fuck.” He winked.
My eyebrows popped up in surprise. She was sexy. He at least got that part right.
She was also mine.
He continued. “I’m not home enough for it to bother me, but your room would be right over hers. The bad news is you’re able to hear every single sound she makes. However, the good news is that you’re able to hear every single sound she makes.” He finished with another wink, and my self-restraint that day must have been aligned with Mother Teresa because my hand remained fisted at my side and not in his mouth.
“When can I move in?” I gritted through a fake smile.
“You don’t want to look around first?”
“Nope. I’ll take it. How much do I owe you for this month?” I had two hundred dollars to my name, and that included the fifty bucks in my pocket. There were three weeks left in the month, but I got paid in two days. I could swing the rent as long as I ate at the gym every day.
“Just give me two twenty-five when you move in. Daniel already paid this month’s rent, so you can ride out his dollar this month, and I’ll use your first payment to cover next month.”
I blinked at him and my smile broke free—big time. “Yeah. I can do that,” I answered.
“All right. Welcome home, Till. I’ll get the sublet form for you to sign.” He extended a hand to seal the deal, and I couldn’t shake it fast enough.
Eliza chose just that moment to start singing at the top of her lungs. A smile instantly spread across my lips as I listened to her less-than-stellar solo performance.
Yeah. Welcome home, Till.
“Can you give me just a second?” I excused myself and hauled ass down the stairs and around to the side of the building.
I shoved her window open and then crawled inside, rushing through her small apartment to find her. She was standing in the kitchen, singing and shaking her ass, but her head was down as her hand was moving over a sketchpad.
I leaned against the wall for a few seconds, watching the show she was unknowingly putting on. I tried not to envision her body naked as she moved with the rhythm of the music. Her breasts swayed with her hips, and just knowing that the fucking freckle was swaying too was more than enough to stir my cock to life.
“Shit!” she screamed when she finally noticed me standing in the hallway. “Damn it, Till,” she cursed, trying to catch her breath.
“Come here for a second.” I grabbed her hand and dragged her to her bedroom, but not for the horizontal purposes I truly wanted. “Wait right here.” I headed for the window, clicking her music off before I climbed out.
“What are you doing?”
“Just wait.” I smiled then jogged toward the stairs.
I threw the front door to my new apartment open and then rushed right past Scott. Once I entered my new bedroom, I stared at the stained-carpeted floor.
“Doodle!” I yelled unnecessarily loud.
“Uh, Till? What are you doing?”
I wasn’t sure how much she could hear, but her voice hit my weak ears as if she were standing only a few feet away. It was clear that I would, in fact, be able to hear everything.
“Oh, nothing much. Just chilling in my new apartment.” I played off my excitement, but her squeal let me know she wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“I’m coming up!” she yelled.
I rushed to the front door to meet her. Scott watched from the couch as I snatched the door open. It didn’t take but a second for her to come plowing through it.
“Are you serious?” She laughed as happy tears glistened in her eyes.
“Completely,” I confirmed, which caused her to launch herself into my arms.
God, it felt good as she wrapped her legs around my waist. She laughed loudly into my ear, and I couldn’t help but join her.
I glanced over at Scott, who had the good sense to look surprised, and even a little embarrassed, as he watched me hold her tight. I gave him a pointed look when I remembered his comments about Eliza from earlier. The last thing I needed to do was get into an argument with him before I even signed the lease. But thankfully, he immediately lifted his hands in surrender and mouthed, “Sorry.”
I lifted my chin in his direction then went back to holding her.
“You’re going to live upstairs!” she exclaimed, sliding her feet to the ground and stepping away all too soon. “I want to see your room.”
I led her down the hall to the small, empty room that would just fit the bed and a dresser I didn’t have.
“It’s only two twenty-five a month. I shouldn’t have any trouble affording it.” I leaned against the doorframe as she looked around.
“What if he’s a weirdo?” she whispered.
“Who?”
“Your roommate. I met him once, but I can’t swear he’s not a serial killer.”
“I think I’ll be okay. His name’s Scott and he seems nice enough. I’ve been over here for an hour or so. Daniel gave me fifty bucks to help him move out.”
“So that’s what it was! I heard something going on up here.”
Just then, something started beeping. We both looked around the room, trying to find the source, but came up empty. When we left the room, the sound grew louder as we got closer to the kitchen.
“What is that?” Eliza asked.
Luckily, Scott was there to answer. “Your oven timer.”
“My oven timer? No way. It’s barely that loud in my apartment.”
“Way. We can hear pretty much everything through the floor.”
Eliza’s eyes grew wide.
“Wait. You can hear us too, right?” Scott asked.
“Well, I mean, yeah. I guess. I just assumed you were really loud.”
“Nope. Just cheap floors.” He shrugged. “So . . . whatcha cooking?” he asked with a smile.
“Oh shit! My pizza.” Eliza bolted to the door, and I followed because . . . well, pizza sounded good.
She ran inside through her front door, and I went around to her window.
“So, what do you think?” I asked, pushing myself up to sit next to the oven.
“I think you need to get your ass off my counter and we’re both lucky that I didn’t burn dinner, but mostly, I think it’s really exciting that you’re going to be living upstairs.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and set the pizza on top of the stove.
I smiled and swiped a pepperoni off the top, burning the shit out of my mouth as I popped it in. “Damn, that’s hot,” I mumbled, blowing around it.
“Genius. You just watched me pul
l it out of the oven. Were you expecting it to be cold?”
“No, I was just hungry. Oh, that reminds me.” I jumped off the counter and pulled a twenty from my pocket. “Use this for food.”
She looked at my hand then began slicing the pizza. “No, just keep it. You’re going to need a bunch of stuff for the new apartment. Do you have enough for the first month? I get my student loan check next week. I can help you a little and you can just pay me back—”
I swiftly interrupted her. “Stop. I’m good, I swear. I appreciate it, but I get paid on Friday—”
Then she interrupted me. “But what about your mom’s rent? I know you and your dad . . . Well, I just mean . . . Are you, um . . . going to help her this month?” She shyly looked up at me through her lashes. My dad was a sensitive subject, and even mentioning him usually put me in a shit mood.
I sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know. I’ve been paying their rent for years. But now, I’ve got my own bills to worry about. I couldn’t care less about her getting tossed to the streets, but Flint and Quarry can’t be homeless. I don’t want to give her the money, though, if she doesn’t really need it, because, let’s be honest here—I do. But at the same time, she’s already a month behind, so if she doesn’t pay before the first, they can evict her.”
“Okay, well, what if you go in right before the office closes the day it’s due? If she’s paid it, awesome. If not, you can pay it so she doesn’t get evicted, but then make sure she really understands that you won’t be paying it again. And if you do have to pay it, let me help you at least for this month.” She looked up from the pizza and pleaded with her eyes way before she did with her mouth. “Please.”
A warm feeling passed over me. I’d never take Eliza’s money. She lived counting her pennies the same way I did. But the fact that she was willing to give me the little she had . . . There were no words. It hit me deep.
“All right, moneybags. If it comes down to the wire, I’ll let you help out. Let’s start with you taking this twenty bucks and then feeding me some pizza.”
Her lips twitched. She knew I was lying, but she didn’t bother calling me on it. Instead, she took the money and passed me a plate loaded with over half of a pizza.
One day, I was going to buy that woman everything she wanted. I didn’t know when or how. I just knew that, one way or another, it would be done.
Chapter Ten
Till
Three years later . . .
“YO, TILL!” DERRICK BAILEY YELLED as I walked into the gym.
“What’s up?” I called out, rolling my eyes.
I fucking hated that kid with a passion. He was such a fucking suck-up. He wasn’t one of the poor kids. No, his daddy had plenty of money, and he paid a shit-ton each month for his son to be a part of the gym. So while I was mopping floors to earn my keep, he would sit and talk to me. It was obnoxious. Besides being loaded, something about him just rubbed me the wrong way.
“Flint called a minute ago while I was covering the phones. Said you need to go home as soon as possible. Some sort of cop showed up at your mom’s place.”
“Nothing new,” I mumbled to myself. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call and see what’s going on after I start the load of towels.”
“Okay. He was pretty messed up though. He said they were there about your little bro.”
“Quarry?” I spun to face him, confused.
“That’s what he said, man.” He shrugged.
“Shit.” My pulse spiked as I dropped all of my bags and sprinted from the gym.
My feet pounded the pavement as I ran the few blocks to my mom’s apartment. Quarry was ten and by no means a golden child. He had a serious attitude. Where Flint was book smart, Quarry was slick and cunning. I had been keeping a close eye on him recently. But the older he got, the sneakier he became.
He was also still a kid though.
I didn’t slow down until I’d shoved my mom’s front door open. She was sitting on the couch next to some greasy asshole in a silk shirt and across from a uniformed officer. I glanced around her run-down apartment for a second to find it surprisingly not too bad. It was still dingy as hell, but everything seemed to be in place. Clearly, Flint had been busy—and expecting this visit.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked the room, and Flint let out a relieved sigh from the corner. “Where’s Quarry?”
“Hey, honey.” My mom stood up and walked over to hug me, putting on the fakest show I had ever seen.
“Get off me.” I stepped away and put my hands on my hips. “Where’s Quarry?” I repeated.
“He locked himself in his room,” Flint answered.
My mom glared at him.
“Are you the boy’s father?” the officer asked.
I knew my size made me look older than twenty-one, but really? His father?
“No. I’m his brother. Till Page.” I extended a hand to the officer.
“You live here?” he asked, eying me but not taking my hand.
“No, sir. I have my own place across town.” My use of “sir” seemed to convince him that I wasn’t a total juvenile delinquent.
“Well, your brother hasn’t been to school in ten days. I was asked by the school to make a trip out here and see what was going on.”
My head quickly turned to my mother. “Ten days?” I asked, incredulous.
“Till, honey. I’m just as shocked as you are,” she cooed, and it enraged me.
“Ten days?” I repeated on a roar that made her flinch.
The slime ball on the couch jumped to her defense. “Hey! Don’t talk to her like that!”
“Who the hell are you?” I growled.
“Till, this is my boyfriend, Ray Mabie.”
“Your boyfriend?” I barked out a laugh. “Wow. Congratulations, Ray. You made third-string!”
“Till!” my mom hissed.
“Maybe it’s fourth-string? I can’t keep up. Let’s see . . . Every Thursday, she visits Dad in jail. Then there’s the mechanic, Pete, she sleeps with because he pays her rent and keeps this luxurious roof over her head. The best part about that is that I actually pay the rent every month because she blows it on penny slots and keeping her nails done. Then there’s the manager of the grocery store I work at who insists on personally delivering groceries once a week. Don’t even get me started on how she pays for those.” I gave him a disgusted look.
My mother’s jaw dropped open and she stuttered for several seconds before finding the lies. “You are such a liar!” She turned to Ray. “It’s not true, baby. He’s just a mean and ungrateful kid.”
I could have laughed at her gentle tone, but I had other stuff to worry about. “I’m sorry, officer. I’ll personally make sure Quarry gets back to school.”
“I’m not sure that will be enough. Quarry was skipping school for ten days and no one at home even noticed. I’m sorry, son. I’m going to have to write up a report and send it over to social services.”
“Sir, please. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep this off the record. Wait! How about this? I’m close with Slate Andrews at On The Ropes. I bet I could get Quarry accepted into the before and after-school programs. It would guarantee that he got to school in the mornings. He’s only ten years old, but I’m sure I can get Slate to make an exception.”
“I’m not doing slave labor at that gym!” Quarry yelled from his bedroom.
“Oh yes, you are!” I yelled back, never dragging my pleading eyes from the officer.
He looked over at Flint then back to me, ignoring my mother completely. Then he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to me. “I want proof. Get Andrews on the phone and make the arrangements, but let me talk to him before you hang up.”
“Yeah, of course,” I rushed out as I dialed the gym number.
“While you’re doing that, can you drag Quarry out here and let me talk to him for a minute? Perhaps I can give him a scare.”
“Sure. Quarry!” I yelled. “Get out here. And before you
say no, I should warn you. If you make me take that door off the hinges, I swear to you that I will never put it back on. Goodbye privacy!”
Flint laughed from the corner.
Quarry loved his privacy. About a year earlier, he’d drafted a schedule that allotted specific times so he and Flint both got alone time in the room they shared. I hadn’t wanted to know what the hell he was doing in there, so I’d just pretended he liked to read in peace and quiet.
I lifted a finger to the officer and looked down the hall to find the door cracked open. I smiled and went back to dialing. I decided to bypass the gym number and call Slate’s office number instead. We all had it, but it was only to be used in the case of an emergency.
Just as Slate’s secretary answered the phone, Quarry timidly made his way into the room.
“Hey, Claire. It’s Till. Is Slate around?”
“Hey, bud. He’s in the ring. Can he call you back?”
“I really need to talk to him.” My eyes flashed back to the officer chatting with Quarry. “Can you just take him the phone? Please. It won’t take long.”
“No prob. Everything all right?” she asked warmly. She was at least sixty and treated all of us as her own kids—even the assholes like Derrick Bailey.
“Yeah. I just need to talk to Slate.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Her term of endearment was genuine—unlike my biological mom, who was cuddled into Ray’s chest, playing the role of a distraught and concerned mother.
A second later, Slate came on the line. “What’s going on, Till?”
“Listen, I need a huge favor. I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate. But . . .” I began to nervously toy with my bottom lip. “Look, my little brother Quarry’s been skipping school, and the police are here, and . . . Is there any way you could make an exception and allow him into the program at ten instead of twelve? Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll work his hours if I have to. I’m just not sure what else to do to keep this from getting reported to social services. We just got off their radar. I can’t have—”
Slate cut me off as I started to ramble. “Slow down and just take a breath. I’ll take him. It’s no big deal.”