“You’re always asking that.” He closes his eyes as we start moving and I’m not sure what to do.
“Joey?”
“I need a minute, that’s all. If you’re worried, that was the best handshake I’ve ever had.”
Something warm and shining unfurls inside me. “I could say the same.”
I’m so fucked.
The doors slide open and I put my arm out, making sure they won’t close on us again until he gets into the hall.
Joey doesn’t look at me as he starts for his door. “Tonight isn’t good for gaming,” he says abruptly. “You have company.”
“They’re fine. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
He stops to stare at me suspiciously. “Are you trying to take care of me?”
Does he think I’m going to dump him at his door after what we did? Who would do that?
“I know that was unexpected,” I start.
“You think?” His laugh is weak and short-lived. “I didn’t have humping the neighbor in a stalled elevator on my bingo card. Did you?”
Now I know something’s wrong. “Joey.”
“Sorry. I’m drink. Drunk.” He puts a hand on his head. “Whiskey might be the devil. Also hot wings.”
“Let me help you inside.”
He tenses up when I touch his back. “No. I mean, no, I’m fine. I’m kissing—missing a few brain cells, that’s all.”
“Joey, this is cra—”
His door swings open, startling us both. A lovely woman with shoulder-length dark hair, wearing a bathrobe, swollen eyes and a worried scowl is standing in the opening. “Are you drunk?”
Rue’s princess.
“Tani!” Joey cries out joyfully, opening his arms wide and weaving until I steady him again. “Where have you been, young lady? I’ve been worried sick.”
“I can see that.”
“He’s not doing so great,” I offer, feeling the need to apologize. “He was trying to make me feel better, but then we had shots with someone named Calamity and things got out of hand.”
“They do that.” Her expression is difficult to read. “And I’m familiar with that name. I knew those Finns were a bad influence. You’re Elliot?”
“I am.”
“Thank you for bringing him back in one piece.”
Joey is making some truly unhappy sounds beside us. “Not to ruin the reunion, but I’m about to be sick. Please don’t make me do it in the hall or Mr. Gordon might send me to the fourth floor for punishment. No one would ever see me again.”
His friend rolls her eyes and steps back into the apartment, gesturing for me to come inside. “Hurry up, lobby lurker. I might need help getting him up the stairs in time.”
I step forward and she holds up her hand to stop my progress. “Maybe button your pants first?”
Chapter Eleven
Joey
I’m never leaving my apartment again.
I’m not all that sure I want to leave my bed in the foreseeable future. But if I do, I’m going to stay in this penthouse apartment for the rest of my life. Mr. Gordon could help me find people to deliver my groceries and cut my hair. Maybe he’d come visit me after he makes his rounds and gossips with the woman on the second floor. I don’t need anything else.
I’ll be like Fourth. A mystery other people wonder about, causing random blackouts by plugging everything in at the same time.
How did she cause the power surge that changed my life? Should we be calling her Eleven instead of Fourth?
Stranger Things reference. Elliot wouldn’t get that.
I don’t want to think about Elliot.
“You up there. Are you ever going to wake up so it can be my turn to go crazy, toss my cookies and pass out?”
I lift my head out from under my pillow. I could have sworn I heard—
“I made my special tea.”
Tani.
I scowl at the sunshine coming through the windows. Way to read the room, weather. “Give me a minute.”
My bright side for the day is that Tanisha is downstairs. She’s really here. Flew across the country with no warning, using the key I overnighted her when she realized I wasn’t home.
I’ve been nagging her to move here. I’ve been planning for her eventual arrival. But this isn’t like her at all, and that can’t mean anything good.
After a quick trip through a lukewarm shower and a long session with my toothbrush because my mouth tasted like rhino ass—I imagine—I’m almost back to normal.
I wish I’d had enough whiskey to black out, because then I wouldn’t remember Elliot carrying me up the stairs before I made a drunken beeline to the toilet for my Exorcist reenactment.
I wanted to tell him that it didn’t have anything to do with what happened in the elevator, but he was gone by the time I wandered downstairs for water, aspirin and a piece of bread in between bouts.
I’m sure he knows, but if we’d done what we did and he’d spent half the night worshipping the god of porcelain loudly enough for me to hear it through the wall? I might take it personally.