by Aly Martinez
"What's your name?"
"Adam," I lie. She might recognize me, but if she's looking for me to confirm it, it's not going to happen.
"Where are you staying?" she asks, and I narrow my eyes back at her.
"Do I need to leave? Is this going to be a problem?" I ignore her question and jump right to the issue.
"No problem for you, but I'm going to rip Dave's balls off for not giving me a heads-up." She shoves open the door and moves inside.
Clearly, this woman is unstable. Just out of curiosity, I peek around her apartment as she walks to her kitchen. The entire room is open, not even a wall to separate the entryway from the kitchen. I can tell that her place is two bedrooms based on the hallway. It's the exact same floor plan as mine, only in reverse. It’s clean, but most of the furniture is older and well used. It actually looks similar to the place I lived when I was growing up. Well kept, but nothing nice. I smile and breathe in the scent of dust and mothballs.
"Are you a bloodhound as well as a bodyguard?" she asks, looking at me strangely.
"Bodyguard?" I question, and she tilts her head in confusion.
Suddenly, her eyes go wide and she takes two giant steps away from me. "How long have you known Dave?" she asks as her face pales. She slides behind the kitchen counter. I can see her head and shoulders over the bar, but her body is blocked. I can hear her digging through a drawer as fear transforms her.
I can't figure out why she is suddenly scared, but I think this would be a good time for me to leave. "I don't know any Dave. I'm sorry. I think you must have me confused for someone else."
"Cool Rider," she whispers as tears start to well in her eyes.
I shake my head as her words make even less sense. "Yeah. I'm going to go. It was nice to meet you..." I realize she never even gave me her name. "Anyway. I'm next door if you ever need anything," I throw in for some strange reason and immediately hope this odd woman never needs anything.
"We need to move!" I screech into the phone as soon as Dave picks up.
"What! I'll call it in now. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, but there is a huge guy next door, and he helped me pick up eggs. I thought you sent him. I thought he was one of your guys to babysit me," I rush out incoherently.
"Wait! Do you think he's one of Wilkes's men?"
"I don't know!"
"Did you get a bad feeling?" he asks with concern filling his voice.
"I. Don't. Know!" I repeat on a frustrated shout.
"Riley, calm down."
"I can't. I thought—" I choke out a sob. "I thought he knew you, but then I said the word, and he had no idea what I was talking about," I continue, rushing out broken pieces of sentences.
"Okay. Well, did he try anything on you? Like, did he come in and look around or do anything that made you suspicious?" he asks, and I can tell he is still curious but he has already started to relax.
"No. He just stuck his head in and sniffed."
"Sniffed?"
"Yes, like a dog. He pushed his head inside and sniffed," I explain yet again, and he lets out a laugh.
"Can you blame him? That place stinks."
"So you don't think he's a threat?"
"I'll call and have someone look into it. He just sounds like our new neighbor to me. If you were obviously alone, there is not a chance in hell one of Wilkes’s guys would have left you standing there."
"Maybe they were hoping you would come back." When I get an idea, I screech, "Maybe he was sniffing for you!"
He starts laughing. "Do I stink? Can you smell me?"
"Sometimes," I whine.
He lets out a chuckle before getting serious again. "Stay inside. I'll get him checked out, okay? Did he give you his name?"
"Adam."
"Hang tight. I'll get him looked into."
"Okay."
"Oh, and Riley. We need a new word now. Your choice this time."
"Parakeet Breath," I blurt out.
"Wait, are you calling me that or is that the word?"
"Both."
"Well, okay then. I guess I'll pick the word again," he replies, and I finally let out a small laugh. "I'll look into him," he promises again.
"Thank you," I breathe, and only partly because he's looking into Adam. It’s mainly because, even from eight hundred miles away, he still makes me feel safe.
The knock on the front door startles me. No one knows we live here. It's not like we are expecting any visitors. I have no friends or anyone to randomly stop by. It’s sad, but I have no one in this world but Dave. Although, in my old life, I didn't exactly have anyone either—but at least then I had myself. That's a lot more than I can say now.
I sit on the couch, nervously staring at the door, just waiting for the salesman to give up and leave. But this person is persistent. The knocking continues for a few minutes before I finally hear Adam’s voice from the other side of the door.
"Um, I brought you some eggs," he calls out.
I cautiously walk to the door to look through the peephole.
"I wanted to apologize for scaring you earlier. I was at the store anyway, and I knew you were out," he says loudly.
"You didn’t have to do that," I respond to the door without even considering opening it.
"Well, I guess I’ll just leave these right here for you. Don't leave them out here long. In this cold, they are liable to freeze."
"Oh, yeah. Uh, thanks," I respond awkwardly, knowing good and damn well that I am not going outside to get those eggs.
Who the hell brings someone eggs? Maybe he is just luring me outside so he can kidnap me and take me back to whomever he is working for. But if that's the case, why didn't he just grab me when he had the chance earlier? Whatever, Dave told me to stay inside. That’s more than enough for me.
I move to the window and very carefully peek through the blinds. He lingers at the door, seemingly uncomfortable. Why is he nervous?
He runs a hand through his short, black hair. "Anyway. Well. Uh…" He stumbles over his words. "Have a good night."
I watch as he walks away. He doesn't look back or try to peek in the window. He just moves into his apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him.
I pace around my living room, trying to work out every possible scenario. If he is one of Wilkes’s men, why is he taking his sweet time making a move? It's possible that he’s just a nice guy, but he's freaking huge. He's easily six foot four, and he must work out all day to keep that body. Even through a sweater, I can tell he's ripped. I just don't get it.
My phone rings from the corner, snapping me out of my quickly approaching panic attack. "Hello."
"I don't know who the hell he is," Dave says across the line, "but I don't think he's a threat."
"He just brought us eggs." I say as if that obviously proves he has malicious intent.
"What?"
"Eggs."
"Why would he bring eggs?"
"I don't know! Do you think they are poisonous?" I ask, and Dave lets out an infuriating laugh. "Don't laugh at me. I'm scared!" I snap across the line, and he immediately goes silent.
"I'm going to send someone. You can argue all you want, but I don't want you alone and scared. This Adam guy seems harmless. The apartment is owned by some man named Jimmy Douglas. His record is squeaky clean. He's a boxing trainer out in L.A. I'm going to assume Adam is one of his fighters, probably down on his luck and needing a place to stay."
"He's really big," I whisper across the line, "so that at least makes more sense."
"I'm sending someone tomorrow. Hang tight. It will look like a date. He'll bring your favorite flowers since we don't have a word right now. And I'm not setting up a new one over the phone."
"Okay." I bite my lip so he can't hear the tears in my voice.
"I won't let anything happen to you. I swear," he vows tenderly.
"I know you won't." I try to smile, but it only forces the tears to spill from my eyes.
"Don't cry," he says softly.
/>
"Stop using your superpowers to read my mind."
"I just know you, Riley. No superpowers needed."
"I'm going to head to bed and read for a little while." I dry my eyes on the backs of my hands as I search the room for a distraction from reality.
"Smutty romance?" he asks as the smile returns to his voice.
"Is there any other kind?"
"Goodnight, Riley."
"Night."
"Adam!" I hear shrieked from the other side of my door.
I fly off the couch and onto my feet. I must have fallen asleep at some point. My head is groggy and my eyes struggle to adjust¸ but the sound of a woman’s scream permeates through the darkness.
"Please. Open the door. Please!" The frantic words send ice through my veins.
I rush to the door, but before it is even completely open, my neighbor squeezes past me.
"What the hell are you doing?" I ask roughly, still unable to truly grasp this sort of shocking wake-up call.
"Someone just broke into my apartment. I..." She fades off as she slides down the wall to the floor. It's only then that I notice the gun shaking in her hand.
"Jesus Christ." I walk over and reach for the gun.
She doesn't immediately release it. Instead, she tilts her head back, looking me directly in the eyes. Holy shit—her eyes. Gone is the plain brown. Now they are so blue that they are almost clear. They're mesmerizing, and it takes the sounds of her crying to snap me out of my trance.
Her lips begin to quiver. "Please tell me you won't hurt me." The combination of her words with the assumption that I would startles and disgusts me.
I squat down in front of her and gently pull the gun away. "I won't hurt you. Ever. You're safe with me." It's the only thing I can offer, and they seem to be the words she needed to hear.
She drops her head into her hands as loud sobs ravage her body. I can only stand and stare. She was odd when I met her earlier, but this is more than that. This is the remnants of a broken woman. Anyone could recognize that, but especially me.
"What happened?" I ask gently, inquiring about more than just tonight.
"The...um, window by my bed was broken. I don't know if they came in. I didn’t wait around. I just grabbed the gun and bolted," she tells the floor.
"Did you see anyone?"
"No."
I move to the door and glance around the breezeway. On the brick are a few sloppy graffiti tags that were definitely not there earlier. I’m sure it’s probably just a bunch of kids looking for trouble, so I close it back, locking both the deadbolt and the chain just in case.
"It was just some kids," I say, reassuringly. I crouch back down in front of her, and it pains me as she recoils. Not that I would ever dream of touching her, but I understand that reaction, and it kills me to witness it firsthand.
"How can you be sure?" she whimpers.
"I can't. This neighborhood may not be the nicest, but it is relatively safe. The spray paint leads me to believe it’s only some bored teenagers with slightly less than average artistic abilities." I try to make light of the situation, and for a split second, it works.
Her eyes lift to mine, and I can’t stop the gasp that escapes.
"What?" she whispers as concern once again crosses her face.
"No, nothing. It's just... Your eyes. They're amazing."
"Don't look at me." She covers her face with her hands.
"I'm sorry. It just surprised me. That's all. Earlier, they were brown, but now... Why do you cover them up?"
"I forgot my phone in the apartment." She changes the subject, ignoring my curiosity.
"You can use mine if you want." I offer her a smile, but it's not from kindness. The truth is I just want her to look back up so I can see her eyes again.
"I can't. I need mine." She finally lifts her gaze back to mine, and it's actually painful. Her eyes are beautiful, but this time, I see more than just the awe-inspiring color. I see the fear and innocence in the red rims. There is a dark shadow of false strength, but what really has me reaching forward to touch her is the hopelessness. My hand doesn't even get close before she quickly slides out of my reach.
"Hey. I'll go get it for you. You're safe." I repeat the one phrase that seemed to ease her earlier.
"Why are you being so nice?" She turns her head suspiciously.
"I don't have any reason not to be nice to you. Besides, you remind me of someone I used to know," I answer, and she immediately goes stiff. Her eyes begin to frantically travel over my body—scrutinizing my every inch while desperately searching for something. "My mom. You remind me of my mother," I finish, and she holds my eyes, giving only the slightest of nods.
"Why do you live here?" she asks, and I chuckle at her random question.
"Why do you live here?" I throw right back at her.
"Will you walk back over there with me?" She once again changes the topic.
"Yeah, of course."
I offer her a hand to stand, but not surprisingly, she doesn’t take it. She pushes to her feet on her own.
I head for the door with her tight on my heels. I suddenly turn, and she takes a quick step away. "You never told me your name," I question, and her eyes light before dimming completely.
"Riley," she says flatly.
"Nice to meet you, Riley."
She finally offers me a weak smile that never even gets close to her eyes.
"Oh, let’s not forget this." I pick up the gun she came in with and pass it back to her. I immediately regret returning it. This woman is a mess right now. Arming her doesn’t seem like the brightest of ideas. "Do you even know how to use that?"
"Yeah, I do. But I hate it." She reaches forward, taking it from my hands. She doesn’t grasp it. Instead, she holds it flat on her palms as if it were a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
My lips twitch, and I force myself to turn away to hide the smile.
"Come on." I walk to the front door, pulling it open for her to lead the way, but she stands silently, waiting for me to exit first. I take the five steps to her door as she follows closely behind me.
She never touches me, although for some strange reason, I can’t say that I would mind if she did.
"You want me to look around?" Adam asks when we reach my door.
My heart sinks, unsure of the correct answer. Do I want him to look around? I’m still not completely convinced that this guy isn’t dangerous. Yet there was something in his expression when he told me that he wouldn’t hurt me that made me believe him. It was something deeper than just a superficial lie. I would recognize one of those; I tell them all the time. Honestly, what choice do I have right now? He’s had two opportunities to kill me if he wanted to. Both he let pass him by. He is either a normal guy or the world’s worst hit man.
"Uh, yeah, that would be great," I answer.
"Just stay here." He looks down at my hands and the way I’m holding the gun. "And give me that. You look like you’re serving up drinks."
I snap my head up, startled by his sudden attitude, but when my eyes meet his, he’s smiling. His expression slightly falters when his eyes lock on mine.
He gently shakes his head, seemingly trying to clear his mind. "Yeah. So, I’ll just have a look around."
"Can I get my phone out of my room? I really need to make a phone call."
"Let me just have a look around real quick."
I stand in the freezing cold while a stranger searches my apartment—a scenario that, only a few hours ago, would have thrown me into a tailspin. But as Adam’s massive body confidently walks around, checking every room for any possible sign of trouble, an unusual feeling washes over me. A feeling only one man gives me.
I snatch my phone off the nightstand and dial Dave’s number. It goes straight to his voicemail and my stomach drops. He never turns his phone off. I’m not even sure I knew that Dave had a voicemail. If I call, he answers. Plain and simple. A million different possibilities race through my mind. None of which hav
e a positive ending.
"Hey, are you okay?" Adam walks over, and only then do I realize that I’m staring at my phone with tears running down my face.
"Yeah. This whole thing just scared me. That’s all," I skillfully lie.
"Well, I think it’s just your window. Everything else looks fine. I’ve got some tape at my place. I’ll grab it and patch that window so you don’t freeze tonight."
"You don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it—"
"I’ll be right back. Put this away." He hands the gun back to me. "Preferably somewhere locked up—where you can’t reach it. I saw the way you held that thing. I think the entire city would be safer tonight if you just threw it in the river," he teases, and I can’t stop my lips from tipping into a small smile too.
For the next few minutes, Adam uses cardboard and tape to patch up my window. It will need to be fixed soon, but I’ll have to wait for Dave to get back. Where the hell is he? I repeatedly call his phone, desperate to hear his voice. But every time, it goes straight to voicemail—skyrocketing my already climbing anxiety.
"Do you have a broom?" Adam asks, surprising me.
I suck in startled breath and jump back. My foot catches on the edge of the bed and I slip, landing less than gracefully on my butt. "Shit!"
"Shit!" he echoes behind me as he rushes over. "Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you."
"Jesus, I’m making a real ass of myself tonight."
"No you’re not," he says with a smirk that tells me otherwise. "So. Broom?"
"Please, you’ve done more than enough. Don’t worry about it. I can clean up the glass."
"Well, yeah, the glass too, but I was going to clean up your eggs."
"What?" I ask, confused.
"I’m not sure what you have against eggs, but you have single-handedly killed two dozen today. I’m guessing you trampled them on your way over to my place."
"Damn. I didn’t even see them.
"It’s okay. Nothing a broom and dustpan can’t fix." He smiles again, and for the first time since I laid eyes on Adam, I really see him.
