Page 23 of Selfish Suit

“Yeah, well, this is for while I work on my projects alone tonight,” I say. “I need to buy a few things and there’s no parking outside my place anyway. This is way easier.”

He doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t slow down either.

As if he can tell I’m tempted to jump out of the car, he locks the doors as we ride past the bodega.

And then, as if fate is playing some type of cruel joke, he pulls into one of the surprisingly empty spots in front of my building.

“This is where you really live?” he asks, looking offended.

I nod.

I can’t even blame him.

The front door is half off the hinges. The foyer’s entry light is flickering, beckoning anyone to come and see if it’s haunted. An old mattress—with a lovely orange pee stain—is leaning against the side of the steps.

“Okay, Miss Locke.” He puts the car in park and steps out to open my door. He doesn’t return to the driver’s side, though.

He steps with me onto the sidewalk.

“Whoa,” I say. “What are you doing?”

“Walking with you inside.”

“I don’t need you to do that.” I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“This isn’t a debate.” He presses his key fob lock. “Lead the way.”

“It’s really not that serious.” There’s no way I can let him inside to see anything else. “It’s not like this is a hotbed for crime.”

“Ay, finance bro!” The universe betrays me again as someone calls out to him.

Clay, the guy from Apartment 4B, jogs over to us and pulls out a knife.

“Hand over your wallet and your keys and I’ll let you live,” he says. “Move.”

Mr. Sutton blinks at him, looking completely unfazed.

“Now, motherfucker.”

“Clay, please stop.” I sigh. “This is my boss…”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, man.” Clay grins, putting the knife away. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“You just threatened to kill me.”

“It was an empty threat.” He shrugs. “You’d be surprised how often that works on business dudes, though. I can’t help but try it every time.”

I shoot him a pointed look. “Go home.”

He salutes me and slips into the alley.

I head up the steps, key in hand, and glance back.

“You don’t need to come inside,” I say. “You’ve come far enough.”

“Open the door, Ivy.”

“We’re on a first-name basis now?” I narrow my eyes. “You think the promotion and the raise were just pretext to seduce me in my kitchen?”

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