His Treat

by Bloom, Penelope

  “In what world was any of that a good idea to you two?” I asked.

  “Ryan,” William was speaking in an infuriatingly calm voice, like he was trying to calm down a wild animal. “If it weren’t for you, I might have never invited Hailey to that party. Because of you, I have my wife. That means I’m going to help you find your wife, whether you like it or not. Also, I’ve always thought I’d make a badass criminal. This was really a win-win situation, no matter how you look at it.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Steve, who honestly looked a little confused about the reasoning but was excited to be on-board anyway. “Win-win, dude. Think about it.”

  “I refuse your help. Both of you. I don’t want it. Okay?”

  William shook his head and templed his fingers. “You don’t get it, Ryan. This isn’t about you. It’s about what you need.”

  “What? That doesn’t even—”

  “You need a woman. And you need my help, because I’ve seen what you do. You friendzone anything with boobs. You’re challenged in the dating department, and lucky for you, Steve and I are gifted.”

  “Prodigies,” agreed Steve.

  “Steve,” I said. “If I wanted to learn the quantity over quality dating method, I’d check with you first. And William, you said it yourself, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be married.”

  William looked to Steve and shared a knowing smile with him. “He thinks he has a say in this. It’s kind of cute, isn’t it?”

  “Adorable.”

  “Enough with the bad cop/stupid cop routine,” I groaned. “I’m being serious.”

  “Wait,” Steve said. “Which one of us is the stupid one?”

  “Maybe the one who just tagged along because he was promised free beer?” William asked.

  “I want both of you to swear this is done. No more weird fake robberies. Understand?”

  Steve looked to William, then both men gave me a nod and a wink.

  “No more robberies,” William said. “I swear it on my brother’s life.”

  “Swear it on something you care about,” I said.

  William looked aghast. “How dare you? I care about my brother. If something happened to him, do you have any idea how much harder I’d have to work? Besides, pissing him off is like a little ray of sunshine in my day.”

  “Fine. Steve?”

  “I have to swear on something?”

  “No. Just tell me it’s over.”

  “Yep. Sure. No more robberies. You got it.”

  7

  Emily

  Lilith sat on the edge of my bed in my apartment. It was the morning after those men tried to rob the gastropub, which already felt like a weird, half-remembered nightmare. I hardly ever had her over—or anyone, for that matter, but I’d called an emergency meeting and invited all of my friends. Lilith—A.K.A. “all of my friends”—sat with her black-nailed fingers on her knees, a look of hunger in her eyes.

  “Did you see their guns?” she asked. None of her usual disinterest stained her words. I had her full and undivided attention, for once.

  “No. They just had their hands in their pockets, but it was pretty obvious what they were holding.”

  “Fuck, yes,” she breathed. “They could’ve shot you. Killed you. Right there, on the spot. Brain matter everywhere. Blood. It could’ve been a massacre. They would’ve had to do that crime scene thing with the red strings and the pins. Blood spatter analysis.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” I said.

  “What did you do?”

  “I threw a bottle of paint at one of their heads.”

  Her eyebrows climbed her forehead. “You?”

  “What? You don’t think I have a little action hero in me when the moment arises? I used to watch every single Steven Seagal movie with my dad when I was a kid. Jackie Chan, too. I think I know what to do in any given kung foo scenario. I know how to bring down a perp with a pool cue. I also know if you kick somebody in the chest, white powder will inexplicably fly away from the impact. So yeah, you could say I’m an expert. In theory, at least.”

  “Guns aren’t kung foo, Emily.”

  “Well, a paint bottle to the head seemed to do the trick, even if I felt like I was about to pee myself. And Ryan tackled the other guy. So it worked out, anyway.”

  “Wait. You made the first move? Not him?”

  “He didn’t really have a chance. It just happened. They turned to look at us, and, well. It just happened. Boom. Beer glass to the head..”

  “Light beer or normal?”

  “What?”

  “It matters.”

  “Normal?”

  She nodded her approval. “Hardcore.”

  I grinned. “Maybe it sounds that way, but it was honestly pretty terrifying.”

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  “Because it was kind of sexy seeing the way he put himself between me and the bad guys. And the way he jumped in to tackle the other one and took charge. And I’m kind of proud of myself for going all kung foo on them.”

  “Ugh.” Lilith made a disgusted sound. “He was just thinking with his dick. Don’t go giving him a medal over it.”

  “Wouldn’t thinking with his dick be more like, I don’t know, trying to do me in the middle of the action? I’d like to think he was thinking with his heart.”

  “Men’s dicks are highly evolved thinking machines. It’s not limited to immediate gratification. If a dick brain thinks it needs to lay the groundwork to get what it wants, it’ll lay the groundwork. Believe that.”

  “I think you’re giving penises way too much credit,” I said. “And what makes you an expert? The last time I saw you with a guy was when you had that fling with the gothy barista.”

  “Just because I don’t update my relationship status on Facebook or post pictures on Instagram, it doesn’t mean I’m single. Ugh.” She crossed her arms and looked to the side, but her annoyance looked a little more forced than usual.

  “Let’s assume I accept your penis brain theory. Is it the worst thing in the world if Ryan does want to get in my pants? Maybe these little britches haven’t been cracked open in a few years too many.”

  She planted her palm on her forehead and closed her eyes. “One: never say britches again or do whatever that voice was. You sounded like Elmer Fudd with his balls in a vice. Two: I didn’t need to know how long it’d been since you’ve boned a guy.”

  I cleared my throat. “Well, I’m so glad I called this little emergency meeting. You’ve been so helpful, as always.”

  Lilith stood and fixed her half-lidded eyes on me. “Emily, you have art school in January. Do you really want to get attached to a guy right now?”

  She swept out of my apartment and closed the door, so I had nothing to do but mull over the question she’d asked, which happened to be the same one I’d been grappling with since yesterday.

  Did I really want this?

  Ryan met me outside Galleon Enterprises. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and gray shorts, all of which were covered in what looked like flour. His shirt had a little “The Bubbly Baker” logo. I smiled, looking him up and down.

  “Cute,” I said.

  He smirked. “Your outfit isn’t bad, either. What is that, a jean dress? It’s cool.”

  I did a little curtsey and hoped I wasn’t blushing. I shouldn’t have been as flattered as I was by the compliment, but I always loved this dress. It just felt so… me. I liked that he’d noticed. I also liked the way he complimented me every time we were together. He didn’t make it weird or make me feel like he was trying to get something out of it. He had a way of casually blurting the compliments like they just occurred to him and slipped out.

  “Welcome to Galleon.” He gestured to the huge skyscraper we stood beneath, where men in suits and women in pencil skirts bustled in and out.

  “Do I get to know why I’m here and why you told me to bring my art supplies yet? Are we going to graffiti William’s office or something?”

 
“As much as I like that idea, no. I think he might take back his offer if we did that. William heard about our little lack of space problem and said you could use one of the conference rooms on his floor to work. He had the room cleared of anything that’d get in your way. The only catch is, well, William. But he’s probably going to be too busy working to really mess with you much.”

  “Oh.” I smiled, but inside I was deflating a little. Working here meant I wouldn’t have an excuse to see Ryan as much, and I wondered if I’d done something wrong to make him want more distance. I knew Lilith had a point in asking if I really wanted to be messing with a guy right now, but I also knew my heart fluttered and my skin prickled every time Ryan smiled at me. Couldn’t I have the best of both worlds? I could let things play out between us and enjoy the holidays, and then maybe we could part on good terms in January when it was time for me to leave. We were both adults, right? As long as he knew our relationship would have an expiration date from the get-go, there’d be no hard feelings.

  “Bad idea?” he asked.

  “No, no. It’s absolutely amazing. I was just wondering if I’ll get tackled going through the door looking like this. I feel a little underdressed.”

  “Looking like that, I might tackle you. They won’t.” He smiled, but his expression fell when he seemed to realize what he’d said.

  “As appealing as that sounds, I saw you tackle the robber yesterday. No offense, but I don’t feel like getting a concussion.”

  “Oh, if I tackled you, it’d be much gentler.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe it’d be best if I just stopped talking,” he said.

  “How else would you keep digging yourself in that lovely little hole?”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t tell if our date yesterday was a bad one or a good one, so I think I’m still not sure if I’m allowed to joke about tackling you, or if that’s a no-fly zone.”

  "Oh, well, being witness to a robbery and throwing a glass bottle at a guy's head has always been really high on my top ten fantasies list. You completely failed at making it a bad date."

  “Damn it. I guess you’ll have to give me another shot. I promise, you’ll hate the next one. Also, you’re going to have to tell me the other nine items on your fantasy list. You can’t just tease something like that and leave me hanging.”

  I gave him a little grin. “I’m taking the list to my grave.”

  “Hm,” he said. “We’ll see about that. Won’t we?” He pulled open the front door for me and raised his eyebrows a little mischievously.

  Inside, we passed the reception desk, where a pair of women with sleek ponytails and stylish black dresses were checking ID badges. I tried to wrap my head around the fact that William Chamberson was one half of the leadership of this entire empire and couldn’t quite manage it. The only version of him I’d seen was the carefree, wild man who liked to cause chaos at the retirement home and tease his wife. I figured his much more grounded brother, Bruce, must have been the bigger factor in their meteoric success.

  We waited for an elevator together and took the first one that dinged. Ryan pressed the button for the thirty-fourth floor and waited. A few men and women filed in and out as we rose up through the building. The elevator stopped almost every floor as people came and went, never quite leaving us alone until the fourteenth floor. The doors closed, and we were alone in the elevator.

  Almost as if on cue, the lights flickered. Something heavy and mechanical clicked above us. The elevator rumbled, then lurched to an abrupt stop.

  I frowned at the control panel where all the lights were blinking wildly.

  “Oh God,” I pressed my back to the wall and looked around. “I saw a horror movie where this happened once. The lights turned off and then there was this devil girl standing in the corner and she ate off some guy’s feet. Oh, God.”

  Ryan smiled confidently. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s just some kind of power surge. And it’s not like nobody knows we’re in here. We just need to sit tight for a little bit and—”

  “Actually,” a voice said over the intercom in the elevator. “This is, uh, Fred—with the fire department. The elevator division. We’re not going to be able to break you out of there. You’ll have to use the hatch on the top and climb out yourselves.”

  Ryan glared at the intercom. “Fred, from the fire department? The elevator division.”

  "That's correct, sir. And I'll be honest, here. The only way you're getting that woman out of this is through some serious act of heroism. We usually try to do that sort of thing ourselves, but our hands are really tied here. See, there's been a, uh, labor dispute. Kind of like a sit-in." The voice on the intercom grunted, then muttered something I couldn't quite make out. "A walk-off, I mean. They're on strike, so it's just me here at the fire station, and the guys didn't even leave me the keys to the truck, believe it or not."

  “What?” I said, more to myself than to anyone else. I was struck by the same feeling of odd unreality, like during the robbery. It was almost as if the man on the intercom was acting in some Bollywood movie and doing a terrible job of it.

  Ryan put his hands on the wall and leaned close to the intercom. He whispered something so quiet I couldn’t make it out.

  “Nope.” The voice over the intercom said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir. You’ll need to climb out the top of the elevator. Heroism and all that. Thank you for your compliance.”

  Ryan punched the intercom button in. “Open. The. Door.”

  There was a weird edge to the fireman’s tone. It almost seemed dismissive. I would’ve expected someone in his position to sound like he was trying to keep us calm. If anything, all he’d managed to do was piss Ryan off, so I decided to try my own hand at calming him down.

  “Ryan, come on. I’m sure they would if they could. I think if you boost me up there, we can get to the top of the elevator. I’ve seen them do this on movies and always wished I could try it.”

  He was breathing heavily, and he looked back to the intercom one last time like he might punch a dent in the thing for good measure. “You’re right. How hard could this be, anyway?”

  He knelt down and threaded his fingers together to make a pocket for me to step into. I put my foot down and tested his ability to hold me up. His arms didn’t even seem to strain against my weight. “Wow. You’re strong,” I said. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead as soon as the words left my mouth. I was one step away from clapping my hands together and chanting “Hercules, Hercules!”

  “Okay, just let me kind of raise you up slowly. Don’t jump or anything.”

  I nodded, sticking my hands up over my head and reaching for the panel at the top of the elevator. I didn’t see any obvious way to open it, other than the square outline of a seam I figured you must be able to push and release. He raised me up, inch by inch, until I was able to put my palms against the cool metal roof. I pushed and strained. “It’s not budging,” I said.

  “Shit. Okay. Try just putting your palms up flat and I’ll give you a little boost.”

  “You mean you’ll use me like a battering ram?”

  “No. Well, yes. But carefully.”

  I swallowed hard. “Let’s ram this bitch! Carefully,” I added.

  He laughed. “I like the enthusiasm. On three. One, two, thr—”

  I felt myself rise up toward the ceiling far faster than I expected, and my arms immediately buckled under the sudden force of impact with the ceiling. My forehead collided with the ceiling, and then black clouded my vision.

  8

  Ryan

  I’d ruined relationships in more ways than I could count, but homicide was a first. Emily was lying on her back with her lips parted and her body totally limp.

  I patted her cheek and shook her softly. “Emily! Wake up!”

  I checked her pulse and breathing. She was still alive, but she wasn’t moving. I’d completely underestimated how fast and hard I could lift her up. And if I hadn’t tak
en the world title of biggest idiot in that moment, I was at least in the top ten.

  The elevator doors opened and William came in. He was bent over from laughing so hard, and he was wearing a ridiculous little plastic fireman’s hat to go with his suit.

  “Oh my God,” he said through bursts of laughter. “I completely forgot they sealed those hatches when the safety codes changed. You just catapulted your girlfriend into a solid ceiling.” He broke out in fresh laughter that made him slump down on the floor and block the doors. A few employees who had been waiting for an elevator seemed to know better than to get involved because they all dispersed and waited on other elevators.

  “She’s not my girlfriend. And this isn’t even close to funny. She’s unconscious and she could have a concussion. It’s your fault, too.”

  William pointed to his chest. “Me? I told you to use the panel, not use her head to crack it open.” He couldn’t even finish the sentence without laughter taking him again. “You know, I’m not sure I can live with myself if I set you two up now. Emily might not survive your next genius plan.”

  I picked up Emily and started to walk toward the door, but she stirred in my arms. I quickly yanked the fireman’s hat off William, snapping the rubber band holding it under his chin in the process. “Say a word of this to her and you’re dead.”

  “What are you going to do, take me under your arm and start ramming through doors with my head? Or maybe you’ll try to use me to hammer nails.”

  I gave him a look that said to be quiet as I eased Emily down to her feet and made sure she could stand.

  She blinked her eyes open and put her hand experimentally to her head, which, thankfully, wasn’t bleeding. “What happened?”

  “We can talk about that later,” I said.

  “William?” she asked.

  “The elevator works again!” he declared as he hopped to his feet and dusted his hands. “It’s a Halloween miracle!”

  “A Halloween miracle would be if a guy in a mask suddenly stabbed you,” I said.