In front of us, the terrier paused for a pit-stop. As we waited, I kept on talking. "And if anyone harmed my dog, well –"
I cut the sentence short, not wanting to say something I'd regret. But I couldn't stop my train-of-thought. What if someone harmed Chloe's dog? Or Chloe?
At the old neighborhood, I'd seen things – things that would turn anyone's stomach. At the thought of anything like that happening to her or anyone important to her, a quiet rage settled over me. I looked away and concluded with a massive understatement. "I wouldn’t like it."
I wouldn't put up with it either.
Chloe's voice, light and sweet, interrupted my dark thoughts. "You don't even have a dog."
I turned to look at her. "Yeah. See what I mean?"
"No," she said with a laugh. "You're all worked up about some stranger mistreating your dog, and you don't even have one."
My dog wasn't real. Chloe was. And I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt her. "I'm not worked up," I said.
"Really?" Her gaze shifted to my hand, the one holding Chucky's leash.
I looked down. My fist was clenched, and my knuckles were white. Deliberately, I loosened my grip. I reminded myself that Chloe was safe. She was here. And she was with me. Nothing was going to happen.
Next to me, she was smiling. Looking at her, I had to smile, too. I couldn’t help it. When I was with her, I was happy, simple as that.
Too soon, we'd circled back to her place. I wanted to see her again, not tomorrow, and not by chance. I turned toward her and asked, "Got any plans for tonight?"
She paused, like the question had caught her off guard. "Actually," she said a note of regret, "I do have plans."
Plans? With who?
"In fact," she continued, "I'd better get going if I don't want to be late."
From the tone of her voice, I couldn't tell. Was this a work thing? Or something else?
"How about tomorrow night?" I asked.
She gave her house a quick, worried glance. After a long silence, she said, "Nights are bad for me."
Because of her job? From that worried look, I didn't think so. I looked toward the house. Was someone in there? Watching?
Working to keep my tone easy, I said, "So, if you don't mind my asking, who do you live with, anyway?"
She hesitated. "What do you mean?"
I tried again. "You're the only one I've seen hanging around." I flicked my head toward her house. "I'm guessing that's your parents' house? They out of town?"
Slowly, her gaze shifted to the house. She stuffed her hands deep into her pockets, as if searching for some complicated answer to my simple question.
I waited, wondering what I was missing. Did she think I'd rob the place? Or worse?
Again, I glanced at the house. She couldn’t live there alone. The house was too big and too pricey for someone her age, even if she had grown up with money. Yeah, my own house was five times the size, and I lived alone. But I was the exception, not the rule.
Finally, she pulled her hands from her pockets. She pointed toward my place and said, "Are you living in your parents' house?"
The question couldn’t be serious, but what the hell, I answered it anyway. "No. Haven't for a while."
In front of me, her face froze. She glanced away. "Sorry."
I was the one who was sorry, because too late, it hit me that I'd been an ass to assume she was available. If she'd lived with her parents, she'd have told me.
Her silence told me all I needed to know.
Fuck.
My response, when it came, was too quiet. "No." Working to be cool about it, I returned my gaze to hers and shrugged. "I asked, you asked. No big deal." With what I hoped was a smile, I handed her Chucky's leash.
Silently, she took it and said, "Will you be walking tomorrow?"
Would I? I didn't know. Again, I shrugged. "Hard to say." I glanced in the general direction of my own house. "I gotta run."
Before I could make a bigger ass of myself, I turned away and began walking toward my own place. I wanted to look back. I didn't. And I knew why. Because seeing her with another guy wouldn't be good for anyone – not me, not her, and not him.
Tomorrow, I decided, I'd be cool with it. But not now. Not yet.
Even as I walked back to my own place, I knew it was a lie. I wouldn't be cool with it. But I could act cool with it. She deserved that.
But the next evening, when I saw the guy for myself, all bets were off.
Chapter 25
It was ten o'clock at night. I was out in my own back yard, doing a perimeter check of the iron fence that surrounded my property. Yeah, I had people who could do that for me. But old habits died hard, so at least a couple times a month, I walked the edges, looking for anything out-of-the-ordinary – busted lights, ladders where they shouldn’t be, that sort of thing.
I'd just returned from my downtown office, where I'd spent the last fifteen hours pretending to get some work done. In truth, I was distracted as hell.
Today, I had wanted to be home, watching for her, walking with her, talking with her. But as much as I wanted that, it was time to back off. So I'd gone into the office and stayed there until dark and then some.
Now, it was two hours before midnight. No way she'd be walking now.
No temptation. That was the idea.
I'd just reached the back part of my fence, the part that divided my property from Chloe's. I looked toward her house. The place was dark – the yard, the house, the bonus garage out back, everything. I shook my head. Probably, I shouldn't be looking at all. Spying on her wasn't the plan, as tempting as it sounded.
I was just turning away when something made me stop. It was a friendly male voice calling out, "Hey neighbor."
I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned to look. I saw nothing.
"Up here," the voice said.
I squinted into the darkness. The voice sounded like it was coming from the attic above Chloe's bonus garage. Finally, I spotted a small, open window with a silhouette moving behind it.
From up above, the same voice called out, "Hey, wait up, will ya? I'm coming down."
As if I'd be going anywhere now.
A minute later, the garage's side door swung open, and some guy walked out. With a neighborly wave, he started heading toward me.
Through the fence, I watched him approach. Dark as it was, it was hard to get a good look, but I caught the basics. He was tall and lean with big pale hair. He wore a flashy business suit, along with bright white sneakers. He strode toward me like he owned the place, which – I realized with a sinking feeling – he probably did.
Odds were pretty good that this was Chloe's boyfriend or the next closest thing. I reminded myself to be cool about it. He was a neighbor. He seemed friendly. He might even be a good guy. It wasn't his fault that I was crazy for the girl who lived there.
When the guy reached the fence, I got a better look at his face. It made me second-guess my first assumption. He was older than I thought – at least fifty, maybe even sixty. Chloe's dad?
I sure as hell hoped so, because the alternative wasn't something I wanted to think about it.
The guy flashed me a grin. "I know you. Lawton Rastor, right?"
Was it meet-the-parent time? Or meet-the-slimeball-I-wanted-to-kill time? I had no way of knowing. Not yet. But just in case, this was no time to be a dick to the guy.
Ignoring the tightness in my shoulders, I tried for a smile. "Right."
The guy's smile widened. "I go by Leo." He spread out his arms. "Welcome to the neighborhood."
Behind him, the house was still dark. What was he doing out here? And where the hell was Chloe?
By now, I knew what she drove. It was a vintage Ford Fiesta – cute in that artistic sort of way. Usually, she parked in the driveway, not inside either of the two garages. Peering through the darkness, I saw no sign of her car.
Instead, I saw a dark sedan – a Mercedes from the looks of it. So Chloe wasn't home? Where was she? Working?
In front of me, Leo was still talking. "I saw you move in. A couple months ago, right? You liking it so far?"
Well, that that depends, Leo. Are you Chloe's dad? Or the guy who's fucking her?
I kept my tone neutral. "I'm liking it alright."
"Good. Glad to hear it," Leo said. "Me? I've had the house a while now. Nice place." He glanced toward the bonus garage. "Except when the circuit blows."
I followed his gaze. "The circuit?"
"Or the panel. Whatever it's called. The electric. You know."
With that piss-poor description, I didn't know. But the way it looked, neither did he. "Right," I said.
"Don't ask me why," Leo said, "but the guy who built this place? He put the panel in the unattached garage. In Michigan. Can you believe it? The thing blows in the middle of winter, and what am I doing? Walking through a foot of snow to flip the damn breaker. Crazy, huh?"
It wasn't winter yet. And something about this was crazy. But what kind of crazy, I still wasn't sure. I wanted a better look. I glanced toward the garage and said what a normal neighbor might say. "Need some help?"
"Nah," Leo said. "I've got a guy coming. I'm in town for just tonight, so it's a rush thing." He glanced down at his watch, a Rolex by the looks of it. "Flight leaves in five hours, so I’m in a pinch here."
I worked hard to keep my voice neighborly. "You work out of town?"
The guy chuckled. "Work, fun, same difference. I'll be gone a few weeks, maybe more." He smiled like we were best buddies. "Depends on the action, you know?"
I didn't know. And I wasn't sure that I wanted to. But I asked, anyway. "What kind of action?"
"Eh, I'm in the entertainment biz. Kind of like you." He glanced toward my house. "Speaking of which, I bet you've got some nice honeys in there, huh?"
"Honeys?"
"You know. Girls. I don't want to get weird or anything. But –" He gave me an oily grin. "– I saw that tape of yours." He barked out a laugh. "Man, you really stuck it to her."
I gave him a good, long look. Twice my age or not, I wanted to smack that smile off his face. If this jackass was Chloe's dad, it would go a long way in explaining why she hadn't introduced us. The guy was an embarrassment, even by my own shitty standards.
But I had to know for sure. "So," I said, trying for that same neighborly tone, "you got any kids?"
"Yeah," he said. "One. You?"
Something in my shoulders eased, not a lot, but enough to feel it. "No," I said. "No kids."
The guy laughed. "Not that you know of, huh?"
I knew. I'd been careful. Still, I managed to say, "Right."
The guy leaned closer, looking toward my place. "So the reason I stopped you, is I was wondering something."
That made two of us. "Yeah?" I said. "What?"
"You ever need extra girls, like for parties?"
I froze. What the hell was he asking?
"Aw come on," he said. "We're just two guys talking, right?" He gave a loose shrug. "I mean, I know how it is."
"Yeah?" I felt my jaw clench. "How is it?"
"Sometimes, a guy doesn't need complications. Am I right?"
I gave the guy a good, long look. He might be the father of the girl I loved. Or he might be some kind of child-molester. Shit, for all I knew, he could be both. For Chloe's sake, I gave a non-committal shrug and waited him out.
"Look," he said, "I know what you're thinking."
I kept my tone even. "I doubt it."
"You're thinking, 'Why do I want extra girls when I've got already bus-loads of 'em throwing themselves at me?'" He gave me a toothy grin. "Am I right?"
I'd never had a busload. But there was this minivan once. I hesitated. And an RV. But that was back in the old days, before I'd gotten tired of that whole crazy scene. Looking at the guy – a guy who might, or might not be Chloe's dad – I said nothing.
Leo spoke again. "But just hear me out, okay?" He pointed to the big iron fence that separated us. "The way it looks, you don't want to be bothered. And you sure as hell don't need another tabloid thing." He leaned forward. "Am I right?"
I shrugged.
"But if you call in the professionals," he continued, "you get what you want – blond, brunette, bald, you name it."
My voice was flat. "Bald?"
"Eh, to each his own. I don't judge. The point is, you pay for the stuff you want, and kick 'em to the curb when you're done. Easy-peasy." He gave a low chuckle. "And listen. You don't want your dick falling off. Am I right?"
Was that a rhetorical question? I mean, did anyone say yes to that?
Apparently not, because the guy didn't wait for my answer. "My girls," he continued, "they're checked regular. So there's no chance of getting crotch-cooties, if you know what I mean."
I did know what he meant. But crotch-cooties weren't a big concern of mine. I'd made a lot of mistakes in my life, but having unprotected sex wasn't one of them.
Leo reached into his pocket. He pulled out a business card and shoved it through the fence. "You need something, you call me, alright? Just neighbor-to-neighbor. I'll give you a good deal."
I took the card and gave it a look. On it, I saw only a phone number. No name. No logo. No email address. But I did see an orange-yellow stain on the bottom corner. Mustard?
God, what a douchebag.
Behind Leo, a pair of headlights appeared in the driveway. We both turned to look. The driver cut the lights, giving me my first good look at the vehicle. It was a white service van with a dark, lightning-bolt logo across the side.
Leo turned back to me. "Electrician's here. Pricey son-of-a-bitch." He shook his head. "This time of night? I'm gonna get ass-raped. You just watch."
Right, because who didn't love to watch a good old-fashioned ass-raping?
I gave him a look. "No thanks."
Leo laughed, too long and too hard. "Not your scene, huh?" He lifted an index finger and shot me with an imaginary gun. "Good one. Anyway, nice meeting you." Turning the finger-gun into a friendly wave, he turned to go.
Not so fast, Jackass. I spoke up. "Hey. Leo."
He stopped. "Yeah?"
Before he went anywhere, I had to know. "How old's your kid?"
"I dunno," he said. "About your age, give or take."
In a few days, I'd be twenty-eight. Chloe was twenty-two. So it fit, right? I nodded. "Good age."
"Got that right." Leo flashed me a grin. "You'd like him, too. He's a good kid, when he's not being a smart-ass."
Chapter 26
Inside my house, the music was pulsing, and the place was jam-packed. Snaking my way through the crowd, I looked around, taking in the faces and the bodies that went with them.
On the girls, I saw a lot of skin – long legs, bare arms, and barely concealed boobs and butts. On the guys, I saw the usual stuff – flashy clothes and flashier smiles. They were drinking, dancing, yelling, and posing – sometimes for selfies and sometimes, because, well, that's just what they did.
Funny, I actually knew all these people. How many were here? Fifty? A hundred? More? I didn't know, and I was several birthday-shots past caring.
I'd been drinking and dancing with the rest of them, and was due for a cool-down. Outside seemed the best bet, given the temperature, which had been dropping all day.
With a cold beer in-hand, I slipped out a side door and made my way to the back of the house, where I spotted Bishop, lounging with his back against the brick exterior.
He turned, watching as I moved to join him. With a wry smile, he flicked his head toward a nearby window, where I spotted two girls – I couldn't recall their names – gyrating against the window panes. They were holding twin glasses of some girly-girl drink, with paper umbrellas and fruity garnishes.
As they moved, their beverages splashed over the sides, sending cherry-colored liquid onto the nearby white curtains. One of the girls stumbled sideways, laughing as she grabbed the nearest curtain to steady herself. I heard a crash as the curtain-rod came loose, fo
llowed by the sounds of glass shattering when the girl and her glass hit the floor.
A second later, the girl stood, laughing her ass off. She wrapped the curtain around her shoulders and held up both arms as if she'd just completed an Olympic-level dismount.
From somewhere across the room, I heard a male voice bellow out, "Toga! Toga!"
"It's not a toga!" she slurred, wading into the mess of bodies. "It's my new birthday suit! Wanna see?"
Whatever the guy said next was drowned out by the sounds of music cranking up to ear-splitting levels. The windows rattled as the bass thumped. From somewhere inside, I heard a squeal of laughter and another crash.
I took a swig from my beer and glanced at Bishop.
"Don’t look at me," he said. "This wasn't my idea."
He was right. It was Amber's. Turns out, her so-called peace offering was a big-ass birthday bash, complete with D.J., food, drinks, the works. The only thing she hadn't thought of were drivers, which I supplied on my own through a local startup run by a couple of college kids.
As for the mess, I'd seen worse. Besides, that's why I had a cleaning service, right? And if something got damaged? Not a big deal. It was just stuff.
I looked to Bishop. "The party? Who says I don't like it?"
He shrugged. "Eh, keep telling yourself that. Anyway, the real fun's out here."
"Why?" I looked around and saw only darkness. "What's out here?"
"Crashers." He grinned. "Just caught two at the back gate."
The narrow one out back? It was locked. I'd checked it personally. "No shit?" I said. "Who were they?"
"A couple of guys. Claimed they knew someone inside."
"Did they?" I asked.
"Maybe. I still sent them packing."
I had to laugh. "Why?"
"Because they weren't on the list."
I took another swig of beer. Like the others before it, it was going way too fast. "There's a list?"
"Something like that."
Knowing Amber, there was a list. She was big into that sort of thing. But I hadn't seen any list. It would be just like Bishop to make sure he had a copy.
"Get this," Bishop continued. "They were trying to pick the lock. With what? A coat-hanger." He gave a sad shake of his head. "Amateurs." He pointed through the trees. "And I caught three girls over there, trying to hop the fence."
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