I answered the phone and the driver said he’d be back around in five minutes. Sitting on the stoop of my building, I waited impatiently for him to arrive, frantically looking down toward the end of the block to make sure that Kenneth hadn’t returned. A few minutes later, I saw the same taxi pulling around the corner and stopping directly in front of me.
Walking down to speak to him through the window, I said, “Well? Did you find out where he lives?”
“Yes,” the driver replied, obviously eager to take more money from me. “Not too far from here.”
“Well?” I asked, looking at him nervously. “Where does he live?”
He cleared his throat and stuck out his empty hand, gesturing for me to give him the rest of the money. Reaching down into my bag, I fished around for it before finally pulling out another three hundred dollars.
“Here,” I said, handing him the money.
I was starting to feel furious that someone would take advantage of me in a situation like that, but I had learned during my time living in New York City that money talks, so I knew it had to be done.
“118 East 8th Street,” the driver said. “That’s where he lives. It’s impossible for me to know the apartment number, because I only watched him walk through the front door of the building with his key.”
Nodding my head, I asked, “Did he notice you?”
“Absolutely not,” the driver replied, rolling up his window to indicate that he wanted to leave.
“Are you sure?” I asked, wanting to feel confident about the fact that the driver had gone unnoticed.
“I’m sure,” he said before clearing his throat and adding, “for an extra hundred I could tell you the apartment number.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked in disgust. “You just told me you didn’t know the apartment number.”
The driver smiled smugly and shrugged his shoulders.
That’s unnecessary, I thought. I don’t need to know his exact apartment number. If anything happens, and I need to locate him – or the authorities need to locate him – I can wait outside his building for him to enter or exit.
Still, I wanted to know, so I reached down into my bag and pulled out the extra money.
“Apartment 6A,” the driver said before quickly driving away.
Turning to walk back inside, I slipped the key into the lock and began to walk up to the fourth floor where my apartment was. As I ascended the stairs, I noticed a funny smell, and quickly realized that it was smoke. Starting to feel panicky, I quickly climbed the remaining stairs, throwing myself up each one until I was finally on the fourth floor.
I saw my next-door neighbor standing outside her apartment, frantically talking to a 911 dispatcher.
“I don’t know how this happened!” she shouted. “I’m waiting, please hurry!”
As she hung up the call, I walked over to see smoke bellowing out of her apartment, filling the hallway and causing both of us to cough.
She finally noticed me and said, “Nicholas! The fire…I don’t know what happened!”
I didn’t want to acknowledge it to myself, but I couldn’t help but feel that Kenneth might have been responsible for this in some way. Walking over to the front door, I could see that the fire was still in the back of her apartment and hadn’t yet spread to the front door – or to my own apartment next door.
Maybe Kenneth thought her apartment was mine, I thought, looking through the smoke to see that the fire had already caused significant damage. I’m dealing with an insane person here.
I walked over to my own door, quickly unlocking it and looking inside. There was no damage, no smoke, and nothing had been changed at all. Looking back over into my neighbor’s apartment, I began to hope that the fire department would arrive before the flames spread.
I ran through my front door, grabbed my laptop, threw it in my bag, and quickly ran back out into the hallway.
“We need to go downstairs and wait for the fire department,” I said, gesturing for my neighbor to follow me. “It’s not safe to breathe in this smoke.”
“But my home!” she shouted, gesturing back toward it as if she didn’t want to walk away.
“Did they say they’re on the way?” I asked.
Nodding her head, she replied, “Yes! How long will they take?”
“We have to go downstairs and wait,” I replied, grabbing her by the arm and taking her downstairs with me.
14
Sitting on the hood of a car parked on the street, I watched as firemen walked in and out of my building, talking amongst themselves about the damage. I decided to approach one of them, so I wrapped my sweater a little tighter around my body and walked over to him.
“How bad is it?” I asked one of them, causing him to stop and turn to look at me.
“Which apartment are you?” he asked, frowning with concern.
“4C,” I answered, hoping that he wouldn’t give me any bad news.
“Well,” he replied with a sigh, “your apartment is fine, but your neighbor’s apartment is severely damaged. I’d recommend you staying somewhere else tonight if you can.”
Immediately, I felt grateful that my apartment was going to be fine, but I knew that I’d need to find a hotel for the night. Greg and Allen were both still at work, and I knew I couldn’t ask to crash at their places. I looked around for my neighbor, but I didn’t see her anywhere.
Turning back to the firefighter, I asked, “Can I go inside and check my place?”
“You can’t go in there right now,” he replied. “But if you’re in 4C, your place is fine. Did you lock the door to your apartment?”
“Yes,” I replied, nodding my head.
“Then you’ll be fine,” he said. “You can come by tomorrow and check it out. Do you have a place to stay for the night?”
“I can find something,” I replied, looking down at my bag to fish through it for my phone.
The firefighter turned to walk away, and I pulled my phone out of my bag. Looking down at it, I realized that I hadn’t even glanced at it for the past thirty minutes, and I could see that I had a missed call and a text message. As I swiped my phone open, I saw that the call and text were both from Clint.
Nicholas, I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to see you. Call me.
Despite everything that had just happened with the fire, I couldn’t help but feel excited that Clint wanted to talk to me. I needed to know what had caused the fire, but I was willing to bet that the fire department wouldn’t have any answers for a while. Thinking back to Kenneth, I wondered if he could be capable of such a thing.
Maybe it was just coincidental timing, I thought, trying to convince myself that it was a possibility. Fires happen, and it could have just been an accident.
Deciding to call Clint back, I pressed the phone to my ear and listened as it rang.
“Hello?” came his voice through the phone. “Nicholas?”
“It’s me,” I replied, unsure of what else to say.
“I need to talk to you,” he said. “Where are you?”
“I’m home,” I replied. “Well, sort of…”
“What do you mean sort of?” he asked, as he could hear the nervous tone in my voice.
“I just got home about half an hour ago,” I said, “and there’s been a fire in my building.”
Before I could say anything else, he interrupted me and asked, “Are you okay, Nicholas?”
“I’m fine,” I replied, “the fire was contained within my neighbor’s apartment, and there was no damage to my place whatsoever. I just don’t know where I’ll stay tonight, so I guess I’ll take a hotel.”
“No way,” he replied, “come over to my place.”
“Where do you live?” I asked, unsure of whether he had mentioned that before.
“I’m not far from The Warehouse,” he replied. “Take a cab, I’ll pay.”
“I can walk,” I replied with a sigh. “That’s not far from where I live.”
“What happened?
” he asked, obviously referencing the fire.
“I’m not sure,” I replied honestly, “and neither is the fire department. They’ll have to look into it, and we probably won’t know anything for a while.”
“I just can’t believe it,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry, Nicholas.”
“That’s not the worst part,” I said, wondering if I could tell Clint about Kenneth.
“What’s the worst part?” he asked.
“I think the fire might have been started by someone who has been following me,” I said, wondering how Clint might react.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No,” I replied with a sigh. “A man named Kenneth has been coming into The Warehouse for the past couple of weeks. At first, I thought he was harmless, but lately he’s been showing up there more frequently.”
“Is he the guy I saw you talking with the other night when I stopped by The Warehouse?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I told him I wasn’t interested anymore, but he kept coming by. Earlier, he stopped by and offered me money in exchange for sex. I refused, and told him not to come back to The Warehouse.”
“I can’t believe that,” Clint said, starting to sound as frustrated as I felt.
“It gets worse,” I continued, hesitating to tell him the rest of the story. “When I got home just now, I noticed Kenneth waiting for me; he knows where I live.”
I decided not to add the part about me paying the taxi driver to find out Kenneth’s address, as I wasn’t sure how it might sound.
“Do you think…” Clint began, but his voice trailed off.
“What?”
“Do you think Kenneth might have had something to do with the fire?” he asked.
I started to pace back and forth on the sidewalk, talking to Clint through the phone.
“I don’t want to think that,” I replied. “I want to think that he’s just a creepy loner, but I’m not sure, Clint.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Clint replied. “Look, just come over, okay?”
“What about Kelly?” I asked, trying to keep the question open-ended. “She won’t mind?”
“She’s not here,” Clint replied, not giving me the answer I wanted.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“She’s at her apartment,” Clint said, “but that’s beside the point. I’ve been doing some thinking, and I want to talk to you. Do you have your bag? Can you go back inside your apartment?”
“I have my bag,” I said, “but I can’t go back inside. I ran in and grabbed my laptop, but other than that, I have nothing else with me.”
“That’s okay,” he said, and I could tell that he was smiling even though I was talking with him through the phone. “I have clothes here you can wear. Take a cab over, my treat.”
I agreed and hung up the phone, but I decided to walk since I didn’t feel like dealing with another cab driver that night. The first one I had talked with was obviously only interested in taking my money, but I guess I needed to wrap my head around the fact that that’s how things work in a city like New York.
Trying to relax, I breathed in the fresh air and tried to calm myself. People passing me by on the street seemed to linger with their looks, gazing at me as if they expected something in return. I had always been told by friends that I had the type of face that always expressed what it was feeling.
Walking down the sidewalk, I wondered what my face was expressing in that moment. Did I look angry over the possibility of someone setting a fire in my building? Did I look happy about the fact that I was going to see Clint?
I was frustrated that what should have been a happy moment had been ruined – probably by Kenneth. Over the past twenty-four hours, I had wanted nothing more than to talk to Clint; to see his face, to press my lips against his again. Now, I was being presented with the opportunity to do so, and all I could think about was potential danger.
As I strolled along the streets, I began to feel slightly calmer. I realized that – if anything were to happen – I had Kenneth’s address and I could report him to the authorities. I would need to wait until the fire department investigated the cause of the fire, but if anything pointed to arson, I would eagerly turn Kenneth in.
How does a person do something like that? I wondered, quickening my pace as I neared The Warehouse.
I didn’t want anyone to see me walking back, so I figured I would stroll as quickly as possible. Still, as soon as I passed the front door, I noticed Allen outside having a smoke break. I tried my best to look down, but he noticed me and waved me over.
“Hey!” he said. “I thought you were taking the night off.”
“I am,” I replied, “I’m just walking somewhere right now.”
Hoping that my brevity would pacify him, I started to walk away, but he reached out and grabbed my arm.
“Are you okay?” he asked, obviously concerned with my behavior. “You seem down. Where are you heading?”
“I’m just going to a friend’s place,” I lied.
Actually, I couldn’t be sure if it was a lie or not. I needed to get to Clint to see what he was going to say to me. Had he reached a big decision about him and Kelly? Was he going to tell me that he just wanted to be friends with me?
“You don’t look so good,” Allen said, desperately trying to engage in conversation with me.
Generally, I found him to be charming and friendly, but in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to walk away to Clint’s place.
“There was a fire,” I blurted out, immediately wishing that I hadn’t shared anything.
“A fire?” Allen asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Where?”
“My apartment,” I answered with a sigh. “Well, my apartment building.”
“Oh no!” he said. “Are you alright? Is your apartment alright?”
“I’m fine,” I replied. “I’m just not sure what to make of it, that’s all. My neighbor’s place is badly burned, and I don’t know what caused it.”
“Did the fire department take a guess?” Allen asked, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“They’ll need to look into it,” I replied, looking away and trying to think of an excuse to leave. “I have my suspicions though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw Kenneth near my building,” I confessed, needing to talk about it with someone. “After I told him to leave The Warehouse and never come back, I think he followed me home.”
“Are you serious?” Allen asked.
“Well,” I replied, “that’s what I first thought. But, if he started the fire, there’s no way he could have followed me home. He must have gotten into the building before I got there.”
“You think he started the fire?” Allen asked, obviously fascinated with what I was telling him.
“I don’t know,” I replied, “but that’s what I’d like to find out.”
“What if he did?” Allen asked. “What can you do? None of us know where he lives, or even his last name.”
Again, I decided not to reveal that I had paid the cab driver to follow him home. I didn’t want to speculate on what Kenneth might have done until I had all the facts. If anything sinister came from the fire department’s investigation, I would know what I needed to do.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, “my neighbor and I.”
“Well,” Allen continued, “is your neighbor okay? I mean is she safe?”
“She’s fine,” I replied, “poor thing. I don’t know where she’ll stay for the night.”
“Where will you stay?” Allen asked, his eyes opening wide. “You can always crash at my place, it’s not very far from here.”
“That’s okay,” I replied, looking away and trying to think of what to say so that I could leave. “I’ll be staying with a friend tonight.”
“I understand,” Allen said, obviously disappointed. “If you change your mind, and you want to crash at my place, just let me know. I can easily sleep on the couch a
nd you can have the bed if you like.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” I said, “but I think I’ll be fine.”
“Should I go get Greg?” Allen asked, gesturing back through the doors. “He’s just inside, and I know he would want to hear about this.”
“No,” I quickly replied. “I really don’t want to talk about it any further. This whole night has just been a nightmare, and I’m ready to end it.”
Allen nodded his head as if he understood, and I turned to walk away.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said as I started to walk.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Allen replied, waving as I walked.
15
Clint opened the door to his apartment and welcomed me inside with a gesture.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t hug or kiss me hello, and I began to wonder why he had been so excited to see me in the first place. I started to feel suspicious that he might not have good news for me, but I knew he might be holding back since I had just experienced something terrible.
“Thanks,” I said, hoping to get straight to the point. “You sounded like there was something important that you wanted to tell me over the phone.”
“There is,” he said, finally walking over and wrapping me in his arms.
I felt his chest press against my face – the kind of chest only a personal trainer could develop – and I immediately melted into his arms. My thoughts, however, quickly flashed over to Kelly and I wanted to know what his news was.
“What’s going on?” I asked, pulling myself back from his embrace and staring into his eyes.
“I think it’s time,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve known it’s time for a long while now, but I didn’t want to damage my career by ending things with her.”
“What do you think her father is going to say?”
“I have no idea,” Clint replied, walking away from me toward the kitchen.
The Warehouse Page 13