There were forty minutes left on the machine, so I gazed around, eyes landing on a fashion magazine on a table nearby. The issue was a couple months old but it was better than nothing, so I snatched it up and sat down on a nearby bench.
Laundry was much easier than cleaning.
Swinging my feet happily over the floor, I opened the magazine and settled in to wait.
22
Neo
* * *
I hope she’s gone.
Those were the words valiantly filling my head as I trudged up the steps to the apartment. I was tired and hungry, and the last thing I wanted was to watch her one-woman show of emotions. She was a freaking noise box: screaming, yelling, cowering from loud sounds, and screeching about dirt. Just the sound of her voice was enough to give a man a headache.
I let myself in, vaguely wondering why all the locks weren’t engaged but not summoning up enough energy to care.
As I dropped my leather jacket and beanie on the floor near the door, my nose was assaulted with unfamiliar scents.
Snapping my head up, I scanned the room for whatever it was that was off.
Beau seemed unbothered, sitting over at his computers, so involved in whatever cyberworld he lived in that I was convinced this place could burn down around him and he wouldn’t notice. The flicker of a small flame caught my notice, drawing me around the couch to the edge of the coffee table where I stared down.
A small white candle sat in the center of the completely clear surface, a vanilla fragrance wafting up from beneath the flame.
The tabletop glistened under the sun streaming in from the window.
Wait.
It glistened?
Holy shit, the table was actually shining and nothing like chip crumbs, dog slobber, or cans and glasses filled the surface.
Gazing back at Beau, I practically gaped. Did he clean?
Emitting a strangled noise, I turned to the TV, and everything around it was also clean, the screen free of streaks, the floor around it spotless.
What the fuck…?
The entire room was clean. Dusted, the floor without shoe prints, dust, and dog hair.
“Snort?” I called, and the familiar sound of the dog’s heavy breathing made me turn. I hadn’t seen him before, but he was lying near the couch on a folded blanket that appeared to be laid out for him.
“Good boy,” I told him because he was staring at me. He snorted and went back to his nap. Couldn’t blame him. He looked hella comfortable.
Another wave of vanilla hit me, and I realized it was mixed slightly with lemon and this other scent I couldn’t identify. It was kind of… harsh. Like bleach.
Intrigued, I went back down the small hallway and into the bathroom.
Well, I barely made it to the bathroom because I froze in shock at the threshold of the tiny space. I’d never in my life seen this bathroom look so livable.
The tiles were actually white—well, some of them. The sink shined with no smudges or toothpaste smears. The window was wiped clean, and the colorful line of cups and toothbrushes made a lump form in my throat.
Desperately trying to swallow it down, I turned away from the somehow charming sight. Turning away only made it worse.
There was a shower curtain, cheerfully hanging with wide white and yellow stripes. It curved around the inside of the now-clean clawfoot tub. Unable to resist, I peeked inside, seeing several bottles of body wash, shampoo, and a bottle of conditioner. Nearby was a basket of small washcloths.
My mother used to stock our bathroom with those.
I spun away, blinking down at the floor.
She couldn’t have. She wouldn’t.
Lifting my eyes, I saw the mirror. The bottom half was cleaned and clear, no streaks at all. The top half was exactly as it had been, smudged, splattered, and dusty.
She couldn’t even see herself in that mirror. She isn’t tall enough to reach it to clean the top.
My heart clutched so hard I bent, holding my palm against it until the worst of the constriction subsided.
Snort glanced up when I barreled back into the room. Beau looked up as I rushed him, green eyes widening as though he hadn’t even realized I was home.
“Neo,” he said, pushing one headphone away from his ear.
“She did this?” I motioned to the place.
Beau grimaced. “She made me help hang the curtain.”
My heart squeezed again. “Where is she?” I asked, glancing toward the kitchen.
“She left.”
My hand slapped onto the corner of the desk, my arm taking some of my sagging weight. “What?”
“Yeah, like an hour ago.”
I didn’t get to say good-bye.
How could she just leave like that? How could she walk out of my life as easily as she walked in?
You left first.
Numbly, I recalled the way she called my name as I’d fled the house in a jealous haze.
Yes. I’d been jealous. So fucking jealous. I couldn’t admit until now just how insane it made me to hear she was promised to someone else.
She was gone. Back to her world.
Pushing away from the desk, I wandered back toward the couch, staring at the flickering candle, seeing how she left her thumbprint on literally everything in this apartment.
On me.
“She should be back in a few. Actually, she probably should have been back already.”
I spun back. “What?”
“She took our laundry to the laundromat down the block.” He pointed to where we had collected a mountain of dirty clothes.
Following his direction, I saw the spot was indeed empty.
“She went to do our laundry?” I repeated.
Beau made a sound.
“How could you let her leave like that?” I roared.
He glanced up, finally realizing I was having some sort of internal meltdown. Watching me warily, he said, “Didn’t think it was a big deal. She went to the corner market this morning and was fine.”
“Where’d she get the money?”
His cheeks flushed. “I gave it to her.”
He gave her money. Oooh, unpleasant feelings wormed around inside me, making my tongue slide across the sharp edges of my front teeth.
“How could you just let her of all people roam around the Grimms alone?” I snarled.
Beau sat back, eyes growing wide. “I—”
“Someone just tried to kill her!”
“Uhh…”
My heart was beating triple its normal speed as I stalked over to the door, grabbing my jacket and hat and flinging it open. “You’d better hope nothing happened to her!” I declared, slamming it hard behind me and then breaking into a run.
23
Ivory
* * *
Turns out laundry isn’t as easy as I thought it was.
Unless, of course, massive amounts of soap bubbles were supposed to basically explode from around the closed door and flood the tile floor at an alarming rate.
Oh my.
“What in fresh hell is going on out here?” a loud, frantic voice erupted from somewhere in the back. “Why are you just sitting there like that? Is your brain broken?”
I glanced up from the article on predicted trends for spring (I can tell you they were all wrong) and nearly fell off the bench at the way the old man was hotfooting it across the cramped laundromat.
Pressing the open magazine against my chest like a shield, I gazed at him warily from beneath the brim of the black baseball hat.
Does he know who I am?
“You GD millennials can’t do anything right, can ye?”
Ye? Is that a word?
“Pardon?”
A loud cackle from across the room startled me again. Peeking around the magazine, I saw the grumpy woman dressed in black staring.
“I knew she was trouble from the minute she dragged that bag in here.”
“I was here first,” I said primly.
“Missy
, you’ve gone and done it this time!” the man yelled, rushing by. “You’re gonna pay for this!”
Following his rushed footsteps, I turned, and the loud gasp I let loose did knock me off the bench. The magazine lay forgotten on the floor as I sprang forward, eyes wide and mouth open.
“Oh my gosh! Your machine broke! My clothes!”
Ankle deep in fluffy white suds, the man glared. “Don’t you dare try and blame this on my machines! This is all on you, operator error!”
“Me!” I gasped, completely offended.
“Have you never used a washing machine before?”
“Well, I—”
“Christ! How much soap did you use?” he hollered as white clumps clung to his brown pants.
“Is there a limit?”
A string of very impolite profanities burst out of him, and frankly, I found it shocking. Shouldn’t someone his age have better manners?
Shuffling through the suds, which were basically covering the entire floor on this side of the room, he reached out and hit a button on the machine to make it stop.
I tried to see if the clothes were okay, but the entire window was blocked by suds. Even after the machine stopped, white soap continued to ooze from around the edges, sliding down the machine and adding to the mess on the floor.
“You!” The man fumed, his nose flaring like a bull’s as he charged me. I skittered back but wasn’t fast enough because his fingers latched onto my ear and tugged.
“Ow!” I cried out as he began towing me forward.
For such an elderly gentleman, he sure did have some muscle.
“Wait, no,” I begged, trying to drag my feet when I saw where he was making me go. The suds on the floor were not very good for gripping, and I just slid along behind him like I was on some kind of surfboard.
“Eeek!” I squealed the second my feet and legs were consumed with bubbles and water.
When he roughly released my ear, the momentum kept me going, and I slid right into the wall of washing machines, bouncing off.
“Agh!” I fell back onto my butt, suds splashing everywhere and clouds of white filling my vision. Sputtering and soaked, I scrambled up, slipping and falling once more. Like a lightning rod, pain shot up my finger, but I pushed it away as I managed to stand. “Why would you do that?” I panted, putting my hands on my hips to glare.
“If I have to wear your mess, it’s only fair that you should too,” he intoned and then flung open the washing machine door.
Like a tidal wave, water whooshed out, splattering against the floor with a loud splash as droplets reached for everything they could find.
My damp shoes became soaked through, and the only pair of pants I had were saturated.
The tail ends of Neo’s flannel suddenly felt heavy, and even though it seemed dramatic, the extra weight seemed to pull my shoulders down until they wanted to break.
The past two days had left me frightened. Confused. I felt like a woman lost in a strange world where nothing and no one was recognizable. I was abandoned by everything I knew and at the mercy of a place I didn’t know how to thrive in.
I’d had enough.
Stiffening my spine and lifting my chin, I let the air around me shift until it felt familiar. Keeping my gaze cool beneath the brim of the hat, I swept it over the older man and even spared a glance at the very rude woman. “This is all very uncalled for. Maybe you should let your patrons know how much detergent is too much.”
The man blinked at the change in me, but then he snarled and pointed to a sign near the vending machine. It did indeed say how much soap to use.
Well. Maybe he should have made it bigger.
“Just call someone to clean it up and send me the bill.”
The rude woman cackled. “You hear that, Fred? She’s offering to pay for someone else to clean up her mess!”
“What do you think this is, miss, the freaking Hilton?”
I made a face. I wouldn’t stay at the Hilton.
“The only person cleaning this up is you because you made the mess,” he ordered.
Oh, I’d had enough of cleaning to last me a lifetime. “What kind of establishment makes their customers clean?” I admonished.
“You think you can pull out your fancy words and somehow act like you’re better than us?” The woman advanced, eyes boring into me. “Just look at yourself. Can’t even afford clothes that fit, can’t use a washing machine, and carrying around a jar of quarters.” She pointed to the jar I’d brought along. “Probably can’t even hold a job.”
I felt like a flower wilting in the heat. Except it wasn’t hot. In fact, my fingers and toes ached with cold. I’d never felt so judged in my entire life.
Insulted and pissed off, I bent, scooping up handfuls of the bubbles, and charged, swiping them down the woman’s neck and coat. They clung to her chin like a beard, and I smirked.
“You little bitch,” she snarled, and my eyes widened.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.
Skittering back, my soaked sneakers lost traction, and the next thing I knew, my feet were in the air above my head and I was once again part of the mess on the floor.
Momentarily stunned, I blinked up, white suds floating everywhere but suddenly blocked out by a giant looming black cloud.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” she intoned.
The woman came at me. I screamed as both my arms came up to protectively shield my face. Flashbacks of being attacked in the park assaulted me, the past and present all mushed together burning me with anxiety.
Hands latched onto my forearms and tugged. I cried out, curling closer into myself. “Please, no,” I whimpered. “Please…”
“It’s me, princess.” The familiar voice broke through my panic, bringing with it a cascade of warmth.
Peeking around my arm, I saw Neo resettling his grip on me, gently tugging my arms away from my face.
“Neo?” I whimpered.
“C’mon now, up,” he instructed, basically pulling me off the floor, depositing me on my feet.
A saturated strand of hair clung to my cheek, punctuated by a glob of bubbles. Neo clucked his tongue, eyes soft and warm as he brushed away the soap, then tucked the strand of hair behind my ear.
“Are you okay?” he murmured, voice meant only for me and eyes like the softest caress I’d ever felt.
Lips quivering, I held up my bandaged finger. “Pretty sure it’s bleeding again.”
The soft sound he made wrapped around me, comforting without a single touch.
Neo rotated, planting himself in front of me like a shield, everything about his body language shifting and growing hard. I wasn’t afraid, though. In fact, I shuffled a little closer to his back.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asked, his voice cool and hard.
Both the woman and man stared at Neo in shock.
“You, ah, know her?” the woman stuttered, mouth agape.
“She’s mine,” Neo all but growled, making heat explode in my lower belly and a sense of relief chase it. His dark eyes settled on the laundromat man. “Fred?”
“Look at this mess! I come out from the back and she’s sitting there reading a book while my machine practically explodes behind her, making a huge mess of this place!” When he yelled at Neo, it didn’t sound the same. There was no real heat in the words, no aggression. It almost sounded like plaintive whining instead.
Neo glanced over his shoulder. “You make this mess?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
The woman snorted. “No one is that stupid.”
I gasped. Neo shifted a little closer to me but kept his back turned.
I wished I could see the look on his face because the woman’s eyes went wide, and then she pointed to her damp jacket. “Look at what she did to me!”
“You insulted me!” I shot out. “So rude.”
“She said she would pay someone to clean up this mess.” The woman criticized. “With what? That jar of quarters?”
I sighed. “I’m tired of cleaning.”
A ghost of a smile and some warmth passed behind his night-sky stare.
The door to the laundromat was open, being tugged at by the wind, and I shivered slightly as tendrils of cold air brushed against my soaked clothes.
Neo’s expression shifted again. This time, concern deepened his stare. When he turned fully around, all his attention was back on me, and it felt like coming home.
Get a grip, Ivory. You’ve only known him two days.
“Why are you so wet?” he demanded, shaking me from my silly thoughts.
“Because he”—I jabbed a finger at the older man—“forced me into the water, then opened the machine so I’d get splashed. And she”—I pointed to the woman—“knocked me down again.”
Shrugging out of his black leather jacket, he positioned it around my shoulders, and I couldn’t help but snuggle in because his remaining body heat was delicious.
“Don’t you think this was a little uncalled for?” Neo spoke to Fred.
“Well, I—”
“I know this isn’t the first time this has happened. The machine is fine.” He pointed at the open door. “Get me a mop and bucket, and I’ll clean this up.”
“You?” the woman exclaimed, incredulous.
Why was she even still here?
Neo turned. “What part of mine did you not understand?” he shot out. “You know in the Grimms, we take care of our own, Rhonda.”
Ah, so the she-devil had a name.
Her face turned red. “I didn’t know you had someone.” She fished, looking between us.
Neo said nothing, just staring in stony silence.
Rhonda cleared her throat. “Well then, I guess I’ll be going.”
If she had a tail, it would have been tucked between her legs as she walked away to get her laundry.
Anger rose in me because she would concede to Neo but not to me.
“Don’t forget your unfashionable and uncolorful wardrobe.” I snickered.
The woman gasped, and Neo turned, slapping me with a hard look.
Ivory White : A House of Misfits Standalone Page 12
