She was surprised when she pulled out her keys to hear the door beside hers open. “Um, hi,” he said softly. Her eyes turned to his immediately. His voice was clear and rich, though a little hesitant. His eyes were as brown as a forest and round behind black rimmed glasses. His nose was wide. His chin was strong. And his cheek bones were impossibly high.
“Hi,” she said warmly. He took a step back into his apartment, which she guessed mirrored hers as sometimes she heard the toilet flush and thought someone was in her bathroom. She glanced in to see that everything was obsessively neat. She saw a computer desk along the wall that separated their apartments, and several monitors on it. She never heard him, except for the occasional water running, and on the evenings when he had his friends over to play video games. That was every Saturday.
He stared at her as if he’d forgotten what he was going to say. She’d never seen him up close, only from a distance, usually as he was getting into or out of his car. He always hurried into his apartment as if the sun would burn him. She had not realized how tall he was. She was 5’7”, and he had to be at least half a foot taller than her. But he was so thin he looked like he never ate.
She waited with a bright smile on her face. His skin was pale. He didn’t go out much. His hair was a medium brown and hung over his forehead. His eyes were nearly the same color. But they appeared darker set in his pale skin.
“I was… um…” He paused again and licked his lips. His bottom lip was fuller than his top. And for some reason her heart caught when he made the innocent movement. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple moved.
She thought of how different this man was from the self-assured Victor Reyes who thought every woman wanted him. Her weight shifted to lean against the small piece of wall that separated their doors.
Her tension faded as she looked into his eyes. The horrible thing she did in California was forgotten.
“I have a package for you,” he remembered. But he continued to stare.
“Thanks,” she said. Neither of them moved. “Have you eaten?” She had no idea at all where the words came from. It stunned even her to ask. “The only reason I ask is I was just on a plane and I’m starving.”
“Okay.” His face dropped as he said it. “I’ll get your package.” His voice was so pure she wished he would talk more.
“No, I meant,” she said hurriedly before he could shut the door. “Do you want to go with me?”
“I… um…” He raised his right hand to point at his kitchen. “I made soup.”
“Oh,” she was truly disappointed. “I just eat alone all the time.”
“Me too,” he admitted. And they stared at each other silently again. She looked down his thin body to take in his ripped jeans and navy blue t-shirt. His feet were bare and they were so big. His hands were big too.
“Please come eat with me,” she used her airiest voice. “I just had a bad few weeks.” She didn’t want to break down while he watched. She’d never cried about what she had done. If anything she’d always been proud of it. So why did she feel so emotional all of a sudden? Was it the almost getting caught thing? Was it being tired and lonely?
“You were gone for a long time.” He didn’t sound stalkerish. He sounded concerned.
“Yea,” she nodded. “So will you come with me?” Her eyes pleaded with him.
“Sure.” He almost smiled. “I’ll get your package and my shoes, okay?” She gave him a relieved smile and nodded. She quickly put her suitcases inside her front door and closed it back. She didn’t want to leave him waiting outside on her. He handed her the package, and she carried it down to her car. She knew what was inside. Every few months the Secretary sent her a new untraceable phone. Hopefully this would be her last.
She tossed the package in the back and closed her door. She waited as he got in on the passenger side. “You have a very nice car,” he said as he looked around. “The leather is very soft.”
“Yea,” she nodded proudly. The car was her splurge purchase. The Secretary had insisted she live in a nondescript apartment in a tiny subdivision that was one of the farthest places the metro reached. She couldn’t even walk to the metro. She had to drive to it.
But she was relatively safe, and it was quiet. And no one noticed her.
“The car is the only thing I really spend money on,” she admitted.
“You know the manufacturer advertises in England only once a year?” She shook her head. “On April Fool’s Day.”
“Are you kidding? That’s so funny,” she giggled. She drove her car like she did everything else, assertively and aggressively. But she did it with style. She pulled up to a mid priced chain restaurant and climbed out. He unfolded himself out of her small convertible and gently closed the door.
A hostess with short hair and nice eyes found them a corner booth, as it was after lunch and before dinner and there were very few people in the restaurant.
He sat pin straight in the booth and placed his napkin in his lap and arranged his silverware just so. She couldn’t get over how absolutely adorable he was. “So, did you know your European car was made here in the US?”
“I had no idea,” she lied. She did know, but she didn’t want to disappoint him. He seemed to be fascinated with her car. At least he was talking. “So are you a car guy?”
“No, I’m just a trivia guy,” he smiled brightly. “I have a photographic memory. So any facts I learn stay locked in my brain.”
“That’s interesting to know.” She thought about that as she looked at the menu. She was not smart. She barely made it through high school. It didn’t bother her, because she knew her limitations. She knew that working for the Secretary would be the best money she would ever make in her life. And she assumed that after she trained her replacement she would go back to college. But she didn’t know what she wanted to do.
The waitress brought their drinks, and she watched as he studied the menu. He seemed to be engrossed. And then he turned to her thoughtfully and stated, “I have to be home by 6 because I’m an usher at church tonight.”
An unexpected warmth spread from her heart across her chest, then she felt the blood pool on her cheeks. “You go to church on Wednesday evening?” She didn’t even know people did that.
“Wednesday, Sunday, and sometimes Saturday,” he informed her.
“That’s very sweet,” she said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. She was reminded of the weariness she felt in California. She wondered what this sweet, handsome, church going man would think of her if he found out she was a killer.
“Wednesday I work until noon, then I go to class from 12:30 to 3. And then I go to church at 6. But we took a test and had an early day. That’s why I was at home this afternoon.” And then his attention returned to the menu. “I’m a vegetarian,” he said as he studied the options. Florian noticed the waitress approaching their table with her notepad.
“I think we’re still deciding,” Florian said. He stared at the vegetarian section. “But would you bring us some potato skins? Without bacon bits?” The waitress wrote on her pad and nodded. Her date smiled at her sensitivity.
“You know, we haven’t even been introduced. I’m…” And the word stopped on her tongue as he gazed up at her with those innocent deer eyes. She did not want to lie to him. She wanted to be something more than her job. She wanted to be herself. She chuckled, embarrassed, and shook her head. “I’m Florian.”
“That is the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard.” His voice was calming, soothing. “I’m Jordan Stewart.”
“That’s a nice name as well.” She hated to admit she was pulled in by his eyes. They were the color of warm coffee with cream and held a sweetness she’d never seen in anyone else.
“It’s not a nice name in high school when the jocks all make fun of it because it’s a girl’s name.” She felt bad again, because she was one of those jocks. She never made fun of other kids, but she hung out with the type of kid who did. She didn’t have the
brains to do well in school, so she played sports. Cheerleading, volleyball, track, and whatever else she could do outside so she didn’t have to sit behind a desk.
“I was a jock,” she admitted. He frowned. She actually saw confusion in his light brown eyes. “I wasn’t smart enough to learn like the teachers wanted me to. I was just too impatient. Sitting behind a desk for 8 hours was the worst torture for me.” His eyes grew wide, like it was something he couldn’t fathom. “It’s true. I’ve never told anyone, not even my mother. But I just couldn’t understand what they were trying to teach me.”
She stunned him into silence, she realized. He sat quietly for several minutes, processing her words. The waitress arrived with their appetizer, and they both ordered. She felt bad doing it, but she ordered a steak and he ordered vegetarian fajitas.
“So what do you do,” she asked as he ate a potato skin with his fork, and spread sour cream over it with a knife. She had been so hungry, and now she just wanted to sit and watch Jordan.
“I work for the government,” he answered as he continued eating.
“What do you do for the government?” She wondered, and took a potato skin with her fork and tried to mirror his actions. She found after a few tries it became easier.
“My job is classified,” he said woodenly. He didn’t try to make it sound sexy or intriguing. He said it as if he would have said he was a janitor, like it was the most boring thing in the world.
“Oh, that’s interesting.” She laughed and nodded her head. “My job is classified too.” It was easier than another lie, telling him she was a nanny.
But her statement got his attention, and he gazed at her for several minutes. “I could see you as a spy.”
“Nothing like that, trust me,” she sighed. “I’m not smart enough to be a spy.”
“That’s the second time you said you weren’t smart,” he noticed with a frown. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” By this time they were eating their entrees. She had to admit his fajitas looked and smelled much better than her steak.
“My sister was the smart one,” she said with a grin. “She got a full scholarship at…” And then she became very quiet. She stared down at her plate, and tried really hard not to cry. All her friends, her mom, and all her teachers tried hard to comfort her and get her to talk about the tragedy when it happened, but she refused. She didn’t want to talk about it at the time. She wanted to do something about it. And now she’d done something about it. And that didn’t help either.
She inhaled deeply; once, twice, three times. And then she went back to her steak as if nothing had happened. He watched her intently for several moments, but when she didn’t continue he returned to his own food.
They finished in silence. And although she was usually more excited about her favorite dessert at this restaurant than the food, she really didn’t want to order it. She didn’t want to enjoy anything. She wanted to curl up in a ball and forget about the world like she normally did, until the Secretary had another animal for her to hunt.
When the check was delivered by the waitress Florian automatically pulled her card out to pay. But Jordan had his card out as well. “I insist on paying,” he said sweetly.
“I asked you out,” she countered. “I should pay.”
“The gentlemanly thing to do is to pay for dinner.” His smile was captivating. His teeth were perfect and white, and his cheeks turned bright pink.
“Can we split it?” She bit her lip, anticipating he might argue. But he agreed, and they waited to sign their receipts in silence.
When they returned to her car he opened the door for her. He was polite and chivalrous.
“How old are you,” she wondered as she drove back to the apartment.
“I am twenty-six,” he said as he pushed several buttons on her radio and set her clock.
“That’s been off since daylight savings time. Thank you. I tried to fix it, but I couldn’t figure it out. I thought it would at least be right again in the fall.” He also reset the navigation system that had blinked on the menu page for days.
“I have a talent for technology,” he said proudly.
And I have a talent for killing people, she thought. “I wish I had your talent.”
“I’m twenty-six too, by the way.” She examined his face again. She knew she looked young, but he looked much younger than her. “Where did you go to college?”
“MIT,” he said offhandedly.
“Wow,” she said, stunned to silence again. She glanced at her newly set clock, and saw it was only 5:30. “We’re here early.” She pulled into her parking space and he hurried out of the car to open the door for her again.
“Where did you go to college?” He asked as they walked up the steps together.
“I went to college in Pennsylvania.” Her voice became quiet. “But I didn’t finish.”
“Maybe, if you want to start again, I could tutor you,” he offered as they made it to their shared porch and he unlocked his door.
“I think you’d get tired of me really fast,” she remarked innocently.
“I don’t think I’d ever get tired of you,” he smiled. Her heart skipped a beat. She held her keys to her side. She didn’t want to unlock her door and go inside. She didn’t want to be alone again, staring at the TV and trying not to think of what she’d done.
“You could go to church with me if you want,” he offered lightly. “I’ll let you drive, even. Your car is awesome.”
She made a noise in the back of her throat and stared down at her hands. He looked disappointed.
“I’m sorry, I just…” What could she say? She committed twenty-three murders in five years and she didn’t think Jesus would care about her reasons and her excuses? “I’m just really tired from the flight,” she lied quickly. “Thank you for going out with me.” She reached out her hand to him, and he took it and shook it. His hands were soft and warm.
He released it suddenly. “I hear you crying at night,” he said lightly. He didn’t look away. “I feel bad and wish I could knock on your door. I wish I could help.”
Her mouth flew open and her eyes grew wide. “You can knock on my door any time.” His eyes were gentle, and his smile was warm. She quickly unlocked her door and hurried inside.
Chapter Three
At midnight she heard a faint knock on her front door. She was crying again. She heard his front door open. She knew she’d told him to come over any time, but she didn’t think he would really do it.
He stood there for several moments, and just as she heard his light footsteps move away she hurried to the door. He was standing with his door half opened when she peeked her head out.
“Hi,” he said with his quirky smile.
“Hi,” she grinned.
“I was just wondering if you were okay.” His unwavering voice calmed her immediately. She rubbed her hand across her cheek to wipe the tears. She nodded.
“I have chamomile tea,” he said and raised his hand in the same motion he did earlier in the day, pointing at his kitchen. “And milk that I could heat for you.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had milk in her fridge that didn’t spoil before she drank it.
She wanted to say no. But she couldn’t. She didn’t even care that she was barefoot and it was October in Virginia. She cautiously stepped out onto their shared porch and closed her door behind her. She wore an Ohio State sweatshirt and pants, her dark hair was in a pony tail, and she wore no makeup. And she didn’t care.
“Are you from Ohio,” he wondered as she followed him into his apartment.
“Huh?” She was a little stunned by his question. Her eyes were wide when he turned to wait for her answer.
“Your sweatshirt.” He pointed at her clothes.
She felt a little paranoid as she tried to laugh it off. “Yea,” she nodded. “Canton.”
His apartment was even neater than it appeared from the outside. He had a pretty white couch with brown pillows that looked like you could s
ink into it, a white chair that matched, and a pretty white iron and glass coffee table strewn with magazines about astronomy. There were bookshelves filled with text books and sci-fi novels, and box sets of several TV shows.
“That’s my favorite show,” she said as she pointed at one of the boxes.
“We can watch it if you want,” he said as he stood by his kitchen table. A text book sat open, along with a laptop, a tablet, and a real notebook and pencil. “Do you want warm milk or tea?”
“Tea,” she said as she sat down in a chair across from the one already pulled out. He’d obviously been working on something.
“Homework?” She wondered as she stared at the book.
“Experimental physics,” he said offhandedly. “I’m working on my doctorate.” She nodded and stared at the problems with symbols she didn’t recognize. He turned on the burner under his tea kettle, and opened a cabinet above the stove.
“Oh, do you have hot chocolate?” She said it like she was ten years old again.
“I can make some if you want it.” She nodded quickly, and he turned off the tea kettle and poured some milk into a pan then placed it on the stove.
He busied himself making two mugs of hot cocoa as she stared at his writing in the notebook. His penmanship was perfect, even if she couldn’t read what he wrote.
“Are you cramming for a test,” she joked.
“No, this isn’t due until next week,” he shook his head. “And I don’t have to study for tests. I have a photographic memory,” he reminded her.
He placed a steaming mug in front of her, and placed one by his book then sat down. She placed her cheek on her palm and watched as he returned to his writing.
He wrote for several minutes then returned his attention to her. “Is your drink okay?”
“It’s cooling,” she whispered.
The Executioner: A Love Story Page 2