Page 83 of Inferno

SEVENTEEN

HENRY

Just as I’mcontemplating how many plastic totes I can carry on my own, my cell starts to ring. Glancing at the screen, I see Bay’s name and start to panic. Is he calling to say he’s changed his mind, that I can’t have the job or the apartment anymore?

My fingers are shaking as I accept the call and bring my cell to my ear.

“Hello,” I whisper.

“Hey, Henry. We have the couch and a few other bits loaded into my truck, but I remembered that there’s no way you’ll be able to fit a mattress into Parker’s car, so we’re heading over to your place now to come grab it for you. Anything we can’t fit, we’ll go back for later,” Bay says brightly.

“What?” I blurt.

“I got your address from your medical forms, so we’ll be with you in about fifteen minutes. Also remind me on Monday to get you all signed up to the company health insurance scheme, the paperwork is in the filing cabinet.”

“Wait, you’re already on your way here?” I question, feeling dumb.

“Yes, sir. Beau’s with me, so we’ll have plenty of muscle if you’ve got anything heavy.”

“Okay, well, you didn’t need to come all the way out here, but thank you. I’ll start bringing stuff up to the curb.”

“No need, we’re only a few minutes out, and it’ll be quicker if we get the big stuff loaded first,” Bay says, a stern tone to his words. “Stay where you are, we’ll see you in ten.”

After ending the call, I run my eyes over my apartment and cringe at the idea of my boss and his brother seeing it. But as they’re only ten minutes away, it’s too late to stop them from coming.

Eight minutes later, Bay calls to let me know he’s outside, and I run up the stairs and find both Bay and Beau already inside the building, eyeing the place cautiously. The moment they see me, they both smile, then follow me down into my apartment without an ounce of discernible discomfort.

“It’s small,” I warn them as I open my door and step inside.

They try to hide it, but I see the look on their faces when they take in my home. Neither of them comments about how dingy and dark it is, and instead they jump to work, grabbing my crappy mattress and hauling it to the truck without a word.

Thirty minutes later, my tiny basement hideaway is empty, all of my worldly possessions loaded into the back of the truck that’s currently being supervised by Beau.

“My landlord isn’t expecting me to drop the key off until five,” I tell Bay.

“Does he live in the building?”

I nod.

“Then let’s head up there and see if he’s in. If he isn’t, I’ll bring you back later.”

I start to protest, but Bay silences me with a look, holding the stairwell door open for me and gesturing for me to lead the way.

Mr. Yanis is in and becomes a lot more agreeable the moment Bay steps up behind me. As I settle into the seat in Bay’s truck, I’m gripping my four-hundred-dollar deposit like a lifeline and fighting the urge to hyperventilate as we drive away from the only home I’ve ever known.

It turns out that when Bay said he had a couch and a few bits for my new place, what he actually meant was that he had enough furniture to fill three apartments ready for me to choose from. Penn, Huck, and all of the wives are waiting for us when we get to the garage, and quicker than I thought possible, my new apartment is furnished with a comfortable couch, a wooden bedroom set handmade by Granger Barnett, a coffee table, a TV, lamps, rugs, and a refrigerator full of food.

The wives, Missy, Bonnie, Lulu, and Cora, all insist on helping me to unpack, and by the time the sun has started to set, my meager belongings have been emptied from their totes and redistributed in my new apartment.

Once they’re happy that I have everything I could possibly need and more, the Barnetts all hug me goodbye, then climb into their cars and truck and leave. The moment I close the front door behind me, the unsettling feeling of being alone washes over me.

Standing in the small entrance hall, I turn to look into the apartment and wonder what I should do now. In my old place, I’d have gotten into bed and used my hour’s worth of stolen Wi-Fi before I went to sleep. My weekends usually consisted of the laundromat and a book, but that’s not my life now.

I have a living room, a couch, a TV. Penn said there’s cable—only the free channels—but that’s still more than I’ve had for the last four years. My cell is connected to the garage’s Wi-Fi, which Bay assured me is mine to make use of for free.

I don’t know how to cook, but if I did, I have a kitchen. A full kitchen with an oven and burners and all the kitchen utensilsI could ever need, courtesy of the box of cooking equipment Bonnie brought me—just in case.

In fact, it seems the Barnetts came with everything I could possibly need—just in case. I offered to buy some of the things off them, and all four women looked so affronted I immediately apologized and then just let them fill my apartment with things that they deemed as essential, without ever mentioning that I’d been just fine for the last four years without anything.

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