Page 108 of Callan

“I don’t know,” I say, lifting my gaze. “And I don’t know if I should even think about that.”

She tilts her chin to my suit.

“You put a lot of thought into that.”

“I’m going to a club. You know that. I’m not meeting anyone.”

“Regardless. There is something about you.”

Her eyes move over my face.

“You're dressed up like you care,” she adds. “I haven’t seen you give a damn about anything since…”

She stops, looking for the right word.

“It’s been a while,” she says.

My eyes tear away from hers as I start tugging at my cufflinks, making sure they peek from under the edge of my black suit sleeves.

“I’m glad you think that,” I say before bringing my eyes to her again. “Although, I’m not so sure I can afford to care about anything or anyone anymore. So, I’m going out. And that will be all,” I say curtly, anxious to end our conversation.

“As you say,” she murmurs. “Just make sure nothing bad happens to her. Especially if you know she won’t be a constant in your life.”

“She’s not…” My voice trails off as my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I pull it out and check the name on the screen. “I need to take this,” I say, despite rejecting Beverly’s call.

Katlin observes me as I clutch my phone and lift my gaze to her.

“She’s not a part of my life…” I say reassuringly. “But it’s great if you think she’s improved my sense of fashion,” I add, my voice tinged with humor.

Smiling, she wags her finger at me.

“Just don’t play with this girl,” she friendly warns me before pulling away and taking the stairs down first.

“No worries. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

I watch her carefully climb the steps and head to the kitchen before I pivot and pull my phone out of my pocket again.

A text message catches my eye.

Beverly: Call me. This is urgent.

I tap the screen, her phone rings, and she answers right away.

“What happened?” I ask in a low, quiet voice, walking toward the window at the end of the hallway and peering outside.

A mantel of snow covers the backyard, and thick fog wraps around the trees.

“Your girl got visitors,” Beverly says.

“What?”

My grip hardens around my phone, my shoulders heavy with tension.

“She called me a few moments ago and talked to me like she was having a gun barrel pressed to her head, mumbling something about booking a cleaning lady. I played along, and it all worked well. Or so I think. Jimmy and Carlos are no longer at her building, but I can go there and check things out for you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”

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