Page 34 of No, You Hang Up

Somehow, turning him in feels like the wrong move.

“What’s your last name?” I hiss, already heading down the hallway.

“Denver.” I stop and glance at him, but he only gives me a flat look in return.

“Okay uh…” I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what else the cops might ask about him. What I need to know about him. “When’s your birthday? How old are you?”

“Thirty. And it’s February first.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

I hear his footsteps come to a stop, and I turn to look at him, perplexed.

“My favorite color?” Huxley repeats when we’re only a foot from the door.

“Look, I’m sort of panicking here,” I grumble, then rub my clammy palms on my sweatpants, biting my lower lip. “I have no idea what I’ll have to answer, or what they’ll want to know! I’m just trying to be prepared.”

Huxley just watches me for a moment, until another knock on the door makes me jump and causes his eyes to flick toward it. “Teal,” he sighs finally. “It’s teal. Now open the door and stop looking like I’m holding you here at gunpoint, all right?”

“I’ll consider it.”

His hand is on the door before I can open it, and my stomach does a little flip when he leans in, lips brushing my ear. “Consider it harder. Because even if they arrest me, I’ll be back here, little bunny, and you won’t like the side of me that comes to visit if you turn me in right now.”

The shudder that goes down my spine is one of pure fear, and I take a moment to compose myself, inhaling deeply, as his hand slides down the door to drop to his side. “Fine,” I mutter, and I yank open the door before the cops can get paranoid and break in.

That would certainly give Patrice something to talk about. Though I know for a fact just their presence on my porch is going to sustain her for weeks, if not months.

The two officers that are currently occupying my doorstep don’t exactly look thrilled with their lot in life. The man, who’s balding in a very unfortunate way, wears a pair of reflective aviators and is looking around like he’s bored with the situation.

The woman is the one to take her sunglasses off, and she smiles reassuringly at me before her eyes go to Huxley behind me. “Good morning,” she says, in a friendly tone that I’m not expecting. As I watch, both of them hold up very official looking badges. “I’m Officer Diaz, and this is Officer Whitman. Could we come in for just a few minutes? We wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Alone,” the man adds, finally looking over. Even behind the sunglasses, I can tell he’s glaring at Huxley. “Why don’t you step outside with me?”

“Uh, sure?” Huxley is all innocent charm and bemusement as he edges out from behind me, and he doesn’t even give me a look or a touch before he’s ambling down the stairs with the male officer. “Maybe not right here, though?” he chuckles. “She has the nosiest neighbor across the street, and she’s already going to get a ton of shit for cops showing up.”

“Sorry about this,” the woman adds with a sigh, stepping inside when I move back to invite her in. “I live in an HOA as well. I know what it’s like trying to hide things from the neighbors.”

“She’s on the HOA council.” I sigh, closing the door and moving to sink down on my sofa. It’s so hard to seem casual. To act like I have no idea why they’re here, or what they might need. “Is everything okay, officer? Did something happen?”

Officer Diaz smiles in a kindly, amicable way that I don’t buy for one second. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about your friend out there.”

“Hux?” I ask, still feigning confusion. “Why? What’s up?” I try to keep my answers short and to the point, not wanting to ramble or have to remember an intricate lie.

“How well do you know him?”

I roll my shoulders in a shrug at the question. “Umm. I don’t know. Well enough to let him spend the night?” I give her an almost-guilty grin and she returns it with a chuckle. “He’s sweet. He’s fun, and he’s nicer than a lot of guys I’ve met in Lexington.”

“Gosh, it makes me feel bad to have to ask you anything weird about him then.” The blonde smiles at me with a winning grin that definitely works on unsuspecting accomplices.

Too bad I’m the overly suspecting kind instead.

“Can you tell me when he’s been here recently?”

“Sure? Uh, he was here last night, obviously. And he spent all night here. Then three nights ago he was here and spent the night. He left early that morning, though. Left me a stupid post-it note.” I roll my eyes, feigning frustration, and I hope to God putting a bit of truth in with the lie won’t fuck up things for Hux.

“How early?”

I roll my shoulders, looking thoughtful. “Couldn’t have been any earlier than, like, six or so? I remember being up and tripping over his shoes. I threw one at him, he moaned at me, and I ended up going back to bed pretty soon after.”

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