stand from my chair and creep to one of the
glass windows. This is not the tallest building in Vegas, but it’s high enough
to make my stomach flip flop when I stare below me at the streets. The people
look like little ants, and I’m not brave enough to put my hands on the glass so
I can look down even more vertical.
My cellphone buzzes incessantly in my purse hung off the
back of the leather chair I was occupying moments before, and I almost trip in
my heels as I wobble towards it. I should have worn something more practical,
but I guess I wanted to show this man what he’s missing. That might seem petty,
but it’s also rude to marry a girl and not even give her a phone call.
“Hello?” I no sooner get that one word greeting out when
Kyle starts.
“I need to know where the cat food is, the litter, and please tell me that is not diarrhea on the carpet!” The last part of his
sentence doesn’t seem to be directed at me considering his voice becomes far
off. I cringe and wonder what Aphrodite got into this time. Every time I leave,
she ends up eating something she shouldn’t and there is always a mess for the
cat sitter to clean up. Or a mess that the cat sitter refuses to touch and I
have to call a professional carpet cleaning company to get it out of my large,
living room rug.
“The food is under the sink. I moved it. The litter is in
the bathroom closet on the bottom, and if you want to call Oliver to clean up
the mess I can give you his number.” I’m about to recite the number when the
weirdest thing happens.
“Oh, I’ve got it.” I try to remember back to when I
introduced Kyle and Oliver, and I can’t remember a time. “I mean, he’s here
right now.” There is something odd in Kyle’s voice, but I chalk it off to the
fact that there is a mess in front of him. “He stopped by to see if you were
home and I let him in. He seems like a really great guy, Melanie.”
“Thanks, I’ll catch you later.” I don’t wait for him to say
goodbye because the elevator door has just dinged, and I’m prepared to defend
myself from being drug out of the building or for another barrage of insulting
words.
What I’m not prepared for is the fact that no one actually
steps off the elevator when it finally comes back.
“Hello?” The answering groan has me taking an involuntary
step back, but my butt hits the glass of the window and I immediately jump
forward. My heel catches in the rug, again, and I make an embarrassing stumble
forward as I inch closer to the elevator. It’s a large room, so it takes me a
while to get over there. By the time I do, the door is about to close.
My eyes fall on the cut above his brow, and I immediately
jerk forward into action. Just before the door can close I shove my arm through
and it reopens. He’s too heavy for me to pull out on my own, but with some
prodding and shoving from me, he crawls through the doors and lies down on the
carpet of the room. He flinches as I put a finger to a bruise developing at his
temple, and I glance at the elevator.
I’m almost one hundred percent sure that if someone were
going to come up with him, they would have. But I don’t want to take any
chances. I grab a chair, and stuff it right where the elevator door opens to
stop it from closing and ignore the dinging noise that it makes in protest.
Before I even ask him what happened, I’m grabbing my phone to call the police.
“No cops!” It comes out jumbled and raspy, but I understand
the words clearly.
“Why on earth not?” He doesn’t respond to me due to a
coughing fit, and then he rolls over onto his side and begins to dry heave. I
step out of the way and turn around in case he vomits because I cannot handle
watching or hearing someone actually upchuck.
“Could you help me into the bathroom?” When I turn around he’s
trying to struggle to his feet, and I see that his pant leg is ripped. It looks
like someone got in a good slash to his calf, and he needs some stitches.
glass windows. This is not the tallest building in Vegas, but it’s high enough
to make my stomach flip flop when I stare below me at the streets. The people
look like little ants, and I’m not brave enough to put my hands on the glass so
I can look down even more vertical.
My cellphone buzzes incessantly in my purse hung off the
back of the leather chair I was occupying moments before, and I almost trip in
my heels as I wobble towards it. I should have worn something more practical,
but I guess I wanted to show this man what he’s missing. That might seem petty,
but it’s also rude to marry a girl and not even give her a phone call.
“Hello?” I no sooner get that one word greeting out when
Kyle starts.
“I need to know where the cat food is, the litter, and please tell me that is not diarrhea on the carpet!” The last part of his
sentence doesn’t seem to be directed at me considering his voice becomes far
off. I cringe and wonder what Aphrodite got into this time. Every time I leave,
she ends up eating something she shouldn’t and there is always a mess for the
cat sitter to clean up. Or a mess that the cat sitter refuses to touch and I
have to call a professional carpet cleaning company to get it out of my large,
living room rug.
“The food is under the sink. I moved it. The litter is in
the bathroom closet on the bottom, and if you want to call Oliver to clean up
the mess I can give you his number.” I’m about to recite the number when the
weirdest thing happens.
“Oh, I’ve got it.” I try to remember back to when I
introduced Kyle and Oliver, and I can’t remember a time. “I mean, he’s here
right now.” There is something odd in Kyle’s voice, but I chalk it off to the
fact that there is a mess in front of him. “He stopped by to see if you were
home and I let him in. He seems like a really great guy, Melanie.”
“Thanks, I’ll catch you later.” I don’t wait for him to say
goodbye because the elevator door has just dinged, and I’m prepared to defend
myself from being drug out of the building or for another barrage of insulting
words.
What I’m not prepared for is the fact that no one actually
steps off the elevator when it finally comes back.
“Hello?” The answering groan has me taking an involuntary
step back, but my butt hits the glass of the window and I immediately jump
forward. My heel catches in the rug, again, and I make an embarrassing stumble
forward as I inch closer to the elevator. It’s a large room, so it takes me a
while to get over there. By the time I do, the door is about to close.
My eyes fall on the cut above his brow, and I immediately
jerk forward into action. Just before the door can close I shove my arm through
and it reopens. He’s too heavy for me to pull out on my own, but with some
prodding and shoving from me, he crawls through the doors and lies down on the
carpet of the room. He flinches as I put a finger to a bruise developing at his
temple, and I glance at the elevator.
I’m almost one hundred percent sure that if someone were
going to come up with him, they would have. But I don’t want to take any
chances. I grab a chair, and stuff it right where the elevator door opens to
stop it from closing and ignore the dinging noise that it makes in protest.
Before I even ask him what happened, I’m grabbing my phone to call the police.
“No cops!” It comes out jumbled and raspy, but I understand
the words clearly.
“Why on earth not?” He doesn’t respond to me due to a
coughing fit, and then he rolls over onto his side and begins to dry heave. I
step out of the way and turn around in case he vomits because I cannot handle
watching or hearing someone actually upchuck.
“Could you help me into the bathroom?” When I turn around he’s
trying to struggle to his feet, and I see that his pant leg is ripped. It looks
like someone got in a good slash to his calf, and he needs some stitches.
Similar Books
