“You make it sound so boring. It’s also excitement and fun and realizing you can’t live without the other person.”
“I don’t love Tiny.”
“No, it’s probably too soon,” Tara agreed. “But when you think about him leaving how do you feel?”
Like her heart was being ripped from her chest. Like she’d never be whole again.
Well, shit. Was it possible she did love him? Just a little.
No. Impossible.
***
Tiny approached the building manager’s door. He’d been waiting for this asshole to return. When he’d spotted a red truck with the license plate, sux2bu, pull into the parking spot for apartment 1A, he’d almost smiled. An overweight, greasy-looking guy had climbed out, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, carrying a bag of take-out and a six-pack of beer.
Time for a chat.
And not about the cameras. They were already up. Screw waiting for permission to put up the cameras. As far as he was concerned, this guy didn’t do his job properly, so he didn’t have much to say in what went on. And Reagan’s safety was more important than following any rules.
He was probably being a touch overprotective. He could tell Reagan was starting to get annoyed with all the restrictions placed on her. But he would keep her safe. Reagan was more than just a client.
So what if he had to put the cups back a certain way or that she liked to check the door was locked three times before bed? It didn’t make any difference to him, and it was a big deal to her. He’d do a lot to ensure her comfort.
He knocked on the building manager’s door. He paused for a second then banged on the door again.
The door finally opened and the guy he’d seen exit the truck scowled at him. “What ya want?”
“You the building manager here?”
“Yeah, so what? You don’t live here.” He reached one arm up and scratched his armpit. Tiny hid his grimace at the stench emanating from the other man.
“I’m staying in apartment 3B,” Tiny told him easily, watching the other man carefully. He didn’t seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but then appearances could be deceiving.
“What? With that frigid bitch Reagan?” he scoffed.
Tiny grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him out of the doorway then slammed him up against the wall. “What did you call her?”
The other man spluttered, fear filling his face. “I didn’t mean nothing by it!”
“No. Why’d you call her frigid? Because she wouldn’t give you a blowjob for fixing her faucet?”
“I didn’t do that!” McDonald protested. “She led me on. She was giving me all the signals, then as soon as I got inside her apartment she changed her mind. She’s a tease, man.”
“She’s not a tease or frigid or a bitch. I ever hear you say anything derogatory about her you’ll be in a world of trouble, got it?” He placed his arm over McDonald’s neck to make his meaning clear.
McDonald nodded frantically. “I got it. I got it.”
Tiny stepped back, trying to rid himself of his anger. Getting mad wouldn’t help. Not when he was after a few answers.
“You her boyfriend?” McDonald asked.
“It doesn’t matter to you who I am,” he replied.
“It’s just subletting is illegal in this building, and she’s supposed—”
“You’re supposed to do your job,” Tiny pointed out. “Wouldn’t your boss would be interested to hear the deal you offered Reagan?”
McDonald held his hands up in the air placatingly. “Hey, man, no need for that. You stay as long as you like.”