I grab the package, my gun, make sure I’ve got the pawn ticket, then I leave.
21
Violet
I hear a door slam, so I poke my head out. Killian must be gone out somewhere.
I wander out to the kitchen and pour some orange juice, side-eyeing the leftovers from last night. I’m not sure I can handle any food right now, nor the memories of last night’s conversation.
The fridge is stocked with healthy and not-so-healthy ingredients. Killian is fit, clearly takes care of his body, but the fridge looks like it’s stocked for both a health nut as well as a junk food junkie. I see refrigerated cookie and biscuit dough, a jar of queso, guac and three kinds of ice cream in the freezer, and of course there are two quarts of flavored creamer. And again, that creamer makes me wonder if he knew I was coming here with him that night – if he bought those in preparation for that. He seems like a strategic guy and that makes me believe that my hunch is correct. That was no knee-jerk reaction at my apartment that night to bring me here as a marker.
Killian has been angry all day so far. Waking up in bed with me this morning and whatever dream he had last night put him in a foul mood.
Though, as grouchy as he was both before we left as well as while we were out, it didn’t feel the same as the way Ray used to get. I didn’t feel like I was tiptoeing on broken glass, trying not to draw blood.
After putting my coat on, juice in hand, I head out to the balcony and curl up on a lounge chair whose cushions are cool and damp and should probably be stored now that the weather has turned. Despite the chill, I feel a strange sense of self-awareness I haven’t had in some time as I admire the view, as I ponder things, including how strangely comforting it was to wake up next to him – having that feeling of safety.
My judgement feels so clouded though.
Tomorrow will be good, getting to hang with my best friend for the day. I should go see my parents soon, too. I’m thinking I’ll wait until this is over with, this two week … thing. As tempted as I am to put Mom’s mind at ease by telling her I’m on my way toward being Ray-free permanently (I hope), it’s premature. I should wait until that page has fully turned. When I get to go home, when I know Ray is out of my life, I’ll tell them then.
I surf social media on my phone and see a funny joke, so I forward it to my mother and tell her I’m thinking of her and hope to visit soon. She replies that she and Dad are leaving tonight, heading to their time share for two weeks. She says Cody is staying with my grandfather and has her car. She’ll make plans when she gets back for us to get together.
I smile and hope that by then, I can tell them Ray is out of my life.
Feeling the cold, I decide to go in, but before I do, I spot a deck box and finding it empty, I take the cushions from the two lounge chairs as well as the accessories from the patio table and put them all away before going back inside and grabbing a broom and dustpan to sweep up all the stray leaves.
22
Killian
“When did he leave?” I ask Wes.
I’m parked in a visitor’s spot a couple cars away from Violet’s empty spot at her building. I’m driving my Macan today; Ray doesn’t know this vehicle – or he shouldn’t.
I get out and lean against the driver’s door, phone to my ear.
“Thirty-six minutes ago,” Wes informs.
“Where is he now?”
“Library, four blocks away. He’s checking his email and there’s nothing interesting in there, but not five minutes ago he was on your website, reading a press release with details of tonight’s party and jotting them down on a scrap of paper.”
I suck my teeth as I process this. What is that fucker planning?
“I’m goin’ in.” I push off the car and head for the entrance to the building. “Text me when he’s on the way back. I’m planting bugs in the apartment.”
“Coulda got me to do that for you.”
“Some things I need to see to myself. I’ll get you the details so you can link in.”
“Got it. Cool, man.”
I hang up and slip into the building using Violet’s key.
I enter her apartment. The door is unlocked, which pisses me off. Fucker doesn’t give a shit about her belongings? When I get the door open, a stench hits me. The stench of a fucking loser.
It’s a combination of stale beer and desperation. The place is a mess.