Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
He’d given me ten grand to take a few days off.
No. I mean, he probably felt guilty about my face getting messed up. That was why he’d given me money.
I’d considered finding somewhere to stash it when I went to my locker to get my bag and sweater. But I didn’t like the idea of someone else randomly finding it and taking it.
So the stacks were currently sitting heavy at the bottom of my bag, full of possibilities that I wasn’t sure I could make happen.
Not after what I’d seen back in that office.
Before the one guy pulled the other off of me and got them out of there.
The memory had my heart constricting in my chest, painful enough for me to want to press a hand there and try to rub the sensation away.
But with Rico and his keen, gorgeous eyes right there beside me as we walked down the hall to my apartment, I fought the urge, reaching instead to fish for my keys.
“The fuck is that?” Rico asked as we got in front of my door.
And, sure enough, Evander was shrieking out on the fire escape.
I’d entertained the idea of just leaving the window cracked for him to come and go as he pleased. But, well, the area had more than its fair share of rats. I didn’t know if they were capable or willing to climb the fire escape like Evander did, but I wasn’t taking that chance.
“That, believe it or not,” is a cat,” I told Rico as I turned the knob.
“Is he fucking dying?” he asked as I flicked on the light and rushed across the apartment to push open the window.
“You’d think,” I said as Evander shot me an annoyed glance, likely because I was later than usual, before making his way up onto the counter. “But, no, he’s just an asshole.”
“An asshole you feed,” Rico said, shooting me a smirk as I rushed to grab the can of food before the cat started to knock things onto the floor.
“He’s not even mine. I mean, I don’t know if he has another home. But he comes here at night to eat and sleep. Then I let him out in the morning to go, I don’t know, hunt.”
“He got a name?” Rico asked, moving closer.
“Evander.”
“Like Holyfield?” Rico asked, giving me something that seemed rare for him, an actual smile. “‘Cause of the bite in his ear?”
“Yeah,” I said, letting out a little laugh, oddly happy to have someone to share that little joke with, since this new life of mine was the most solitary I’d ever been. Which was saying something. “Oh, I wouldn’t,” I said as Rico reached out toward the cat. “He doesn’t like being… oh,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the cat as he immediately started to purr for Rico. “You little dick,” I said.
“He doesn’t let you pet him?”
“Only if he initiates,” I said. “And only in very specific locations.”
But the darn cat looked ready to roll over and give his belly like a dog for Rico.
“I’m the one who buys you that expensive food you like, you know,” I told Evander who spared me one short glance before giving lovey-dovey eyes to Rico. “Why don’t you go and shriek on his fire escape then?” I asked as I went to get the milk for the other side of the bowl.
“I don’t have one,” Rico said. “You just move in?” he asked, eyes taking in my bare walls and my very minimal furnishings. I didn’t even have end tables. I had my mismatched lamps sitting on cardboard delivery boxes I’d taped shut after getting my goods out of them.
“A couple months ago,” I told him. “Pretty soon after I started working at the meat shop,” I told him. “Ah… want some coffee?” I asked, having nothing else to offer him.
“Sure,” he said, surprising me. I figured he would walk me to my door, then rush off. He clearly had friends or family waiting for him back at the shop. “You said you worked in the Bronx before this?” he asked, still petting Evander as I put the fresh grounds into the filter.
“Yeah. I grew up in the Bronx,” I said.
“What had you moving here?” he asked.
It was a casual question. It seemed like most people who lived in the city tended to pick their area and stay loyal to it. Not only the boroughs, but even the little micro neighborhoods. It was weird to make such a ‘big’ move for a lifelong city-dweller.
“I just wanted something new,” I said, only giving him part of the truth. “And Brooklyn was a lot more affordable than Manhattan,” I added. “Did you grow up here?”
“Yep,” he said as I got down mugs for the both of us.
“Were those your friends back at the shop?” I asked.