Page 100 of Out of the Blue

The women around here certainly don’t take any shit. Reminds me of another woman who lives in this building.

Nelly stops next to me as if she hit a brick wall, giving me the once over. “Haven’t seen you around here before. I’d remember a face like yours. Who are you here to visit, honey?” She plucks at my shirt.

I’m definitely not going to tell her. “I was on my way to the bar,” I point my guitar in the opposite direction than they’re going. “Thought I recognized you, but I didn’t.”

Her hand swipes down my shirt. “I think I’d like to be recognized by you. Want to change that up?”

Seriously? “Ah, don’t think so.”

Her roommate approaches. “Nelly, come on. We have to get to work. Flirt on your own time.”

Nelly spares her a glance. “Fine. See you around again, soon, okay handsome?”

Not if I can help it. I offer a non-committal nod and they disappear. Thank God.

Now I’m back to staring at the front door. I need to go up the three steps and ring the bell for her. I double-check the envelope—she lives on the first floor. With the nice flower box.

It’s now or never, Trent. On jelly legs, I reach the front door and press the bell for her apartment.

Chapter 31 - Cordelia

I’m off for the rest of the day. Even with the money from Apex paying off all my bills, I thought it was a good idea to keep working both jobs in order to save up a bigger nest egg to get another apartment. In a better neighborhood. I’ll start looking for a real estate agent soon.

I stick my bare foot under my butt on the couch and pick up the word search book I purchased. Holding my new Mont Blanc pen—the only luxury I’ve allowed myself—I start searching for the word “songwriter.” Snorting, I drop my hand to the couch and trace the textured fabric. Juanita’s been bugging me to buy a new one, but I’m not ready to part with the money yet. Once we move, I’ll buy one. Then we won’t have to pay for the movers to transport it. Makes sense to me.

Tenor hops onto my lap. Reaching out, I stroke his black and white fur. “How are you doing today?”

In response, he purrs. The first time I heard him purr, I thought something was wrong with him, it’s so loud. Now, I love the way he expresses how happy he is to be living with us. His happy sound is like a balm on my weary soul.

I yawn and drop my head against the cushions and continue to pet our new addition. He’s the only living soul I’ve allowed myself to get close to, probably because he can’t share his disapproval of me. I’ve kept all of my co-workers at more than an arm’s length. I’ve even distanced myself from Rita. Well, I haven’t picked up her calls and only respond with short texts.

It’s better this way. No one can leave me if I don’t let them in.

The only exceptions being Tenor and Juanita. Tenor rolls over on my lap, totally stretched out. I rub his white belly. Juanita’s sort of like my cat. She accepts my helping her to pay for her schooling, but I’ve refused her offers to go out with her friends. They’re too young for me anyway.

I pull up my bank account and a satisfied grin crosses my face. Big Rolls made his deposit on time. Since the article outed him as running up my credit card, he was shamed into entering a payment plan with me. At least something good came out of this whole debacle.

My doorbell rings. “Who could that be, Tenor?”

He purrs.

If past is prologue, probably a delivery for one of my neighbors. I don’t move a pinky.

My doorbell rings again, followed by banging on the building’s front door.

Really? What the heck? A signature or something is probably needed. Sighing, I put Tenor onto the couch, check my reflection in the mirror, and make my way to the front door. The blouse I wore to my day job is untucked from my skirt and I’m barefoot, but who cares? I’m sure the delivery guy won’t.

Pounding on the front door gets more insistent.

Geez. “Coming!”

Leaving the apartment door open, I grab the front doorknob. As I swing it open, I ask, “Who are you looking for?”

A tall, dark, and decidedly handsome man stands on my front doorstep. “You.”

My whole body spasms, and I slam the door. Remaining inside the foyer with my back to the door, I keep my hand glued to the handle. My breathing comes in rapid pants. What ishedoing here?

He knocks on the door again. An achingly familiar voice begs, “Open up, Cordelia. Please.”

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