another inhale, she unlocked the bolts and opened the door.
Cold night air blew in and chilled her where she stood. Whatever it was almost fell on her. The package was wide, tall and thin. She caught it as it fell into her entryway.
Terrified that at any moment someone was going to leap out of the dark at her, she pulled the awkward package in. It wasn’t too heavy, but weighed enough that when she lost her grip, it slammed loudly against her door and inner wall. Cursing, she heaved until it stood upright in her entryway.
She turned to close the door, when an outer light pierced the stoop and she heard the door next to hers open. The condos were set up so that two doors stood side by side and her entry, living room and part of the kitchen shared the wall with her neighbors.
"Christian?" a voice asked, faintly British.
Drayson.
She thought about pretending she hadn’t heard him, but he stuck his head around her doorframe and knocked on the open door.
"Luv, what in the Almighty are you about at this bloody hour?" he asked.
Propping her hand on her hip, she said, "Exercising."
"What in the world have you got there?" he asked, still leaning into her doorway.
She looked from the robed, handsome man to the brown-paper package leaning lopsided against her wall. It went over halfway to the ceiling.
"Actually," she said on a sigh, "I have no idea."
"Where did you get it?"
From a monster? "Someone knocking on my door left it."
"Did you-- " He broke off as she heard a muffled yell from next door.
Great. Wake everyone up.
"Yes, Geoffery," Drayson said. "She’s right here." He stood in her doorway. "Sorry, luv, we were worried about you. All that bumping and thumping. And it looked like you had every light in the place on."
So she did.
Shaking her head, she motioned him in, might as well have a drink with some friends. She could open the thing later. As he crossed over her threshold, another man joined him from next door. Drayson was young, in his mid thirties with blond hair, fair eyes and a long narrow face ending in a perfectly trimmed goatee. Drayson was a director with the University theater. Geoffery on the other hand, was a bit older with gray-streaked dark hair and crinkling eyes. He worked one of the many government jobs in the city.
Both stood in her entryway wearing navy robes.
"I called Gabe. I told you to wait before just barging over here. The world is not the place it used to be, Drayson. Hello, Christian. What’s that?" Geoffery asked.
Gabe? He called Gabe? Well, hell.
Just then the phone rang.
Three a.m. and she was having a party. At least it took her mind off of other things.
It rang again.
"Are you going to get that?" Geoffery asked her.
"No, I’ll just let the machine pick it up."
On the third ring, her voice echoed from the kitchen. When it clicked, the condo blared with the strains of an opera distorted from the volume. But she recognized it. His song. His song for her, of her. An aria from Puccini’s Tosca.
Chills raced down her spine as her own voice filled her condo.
"What the hell is going on?"
She whirled around to see Gabe standing in her doorway, the music softened, silenced until she heard a chuckle and a click.
Her eyes looked away from the three pairs of questioning ones that stared at her.
"Hello? Did anyone hear me?" Gabe asked again.
Christian fisted her hands to keep them from shaking, but it was no use.
"Not now, Gabe," Drayson said, walking to her and putting his arm around her. "Can’t you see she’s upset? Christian, luv, you need to sit down. You’re looking a bit pale. Who would call and leave that on a phone machine at this ungodly hour? And that chuckle was beyond polite."
She stopped and stared at the package against the wall. Shrugging off Drayson, she walked to the present and ripped it open, the brown paper rippling and giving under her nails. The sound of tearing paper rent the air overshadowing Geoffery’s quiet voice as he tried to explain
Cold night air blew in and chilled her where she stood. Whatever it was almost fell on her. The package was wide, tall and thin. She caught it as it fell into her entryway.
Terrified that at any moment someone was going to leap out of the dark at her, she pulled the awkward package in. It wasn’t too heavy, but weighed enough that when she lost her grip, it slammed loudly against her door and inner wall. Cursing, she heaved until it stood upright in her entryway.
She turned to close the door, when an outer light pierced the stoop and she heard the door next to hers open. The condos were set up so that two doors stood side by side and her entry, living room and part of the kitchen shared the wall with her neighbors.
"Christian?" a voice asked, faintly British.
Drayson.
She thought about pretending she hadn’t heard him, but he stuck his head around her doorframe and knocked on the open door.
"Luv, what in the Almighty are you about at this bloody hour?" he asked.
Propping her hand on her hip, she said, "Exercising."
"What in the world have you got there?" he asked, still leaning into her doorway.
She looked from the robed, handsome man to the brown-paper package leaning lopsided against her wall. It went over halfway to the ceiling.
"Actually," she said on a sigh, "I have no idea."
"Where did you get it?"
From a monster? "Someone knocking on my door left it."
"Did you-- " He broke off as she heard a muffled yell from next door.
Great. Wake everyone up.
"Yes, Geoffery," Drayson said. "She’s right here." He stood in her doorway. "Sorry, luv, we were worried about you. All that bumping and thumping. And it looked like you had every light in the place on."
So she did.
Shaking her head, she motioned him in, might as well have a drink with some friends. She could open the thing later. As he crossed over her threshold, another man joined him from next door. Drayson was young, in his mid thirties with blond hair, fair eyes and a long narrow face ending in a perfectly trimmed goatee. Drayson was a director with the University theater. Geoffery on the other hand, was a bit older with gray-streaked dark hair and crinkling eyes. He worked one of the many government jobs in the city.
Both stood in her entryway wearing navy robes.
"I called Gabe. I told you to wait before just barging over here. The world is not the place it used to be, Drayson. Hello, Christian. What’s that?" Geoffery asked.
Gabe? He called Gabe? Well, hell.
Just then the phone rang.
Three a.m. and she was having a party. At least it took her mind off of other things.
It rang again.
"Are you going to get that?" Geoffery asked her.
"No, I’ll just let the machine pick it up."
On the third ring, her voice echoed from the kitchen. When it clicked, the condo blared with the strains of an opera distorted from the volume. But she recognized it. His song. His song for her, of her. An aria from Puccini’s Tosca.
Chills raced down her spine as her own voice filled her condo.
"What the hell is going on?"
She whirled around to see Gabe standing in her doorway, the music softened, silenced until she heard a chuckle and a click.
Her eyes looked away from the three pairs of questioning ones that stared at her.
"Hello? Did anyone hear me?" Gabe asked again.
Christian fisted her hands to keep them from shaking, but it was no use.
"Not now, Gabe," Drayson said, walking to her and putting his arm around her. "Can’t you see she’s upset? Christian, luv, you need to sit down. You’re looking a bit pale. Who would call and leave that on a phone machine at this ungodly hour? And that chuckle was beyond polite."
She stopped and stared at the package against the wall. Shrugging off Drayson, she walked to the present and ripped it open, the brown paper rippling and giving under her nails. The sound of tearing paper rent the air overshadowing Geoffery’s quiet voice as he tried to explain
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