Page 28 of Into the Blue
“Blue?” Her voice is strained as she holds her robe tighter together at the neck. I did an okay job of cleaning up my face and changing my clothes, but there’s no hiding the way my anger vibrates in the air. “What are you doing here?” She looks at me skeptically, and that anger returns.
She likely thinks I’m here for some fucked up reason like the man I just deleted from existence moments before. She looks around behind me to see if anyone else is here with me.
They’re all in the truck we came in. Jimmy’s body in the back, prepared to sink to the bottom of the bayou after my gators have a turn.
When she really looks at me, she reels back. “What happened to you?”
I take that opportunity to walk in and close the door behind me.
She knows who I am and what I’m known for. For once, I wish she didn’t—that no one did.
I wish that I wasn’t coming into her spot for the first time wearing not one, but two, different men’s blood.
I wish that the reason I was coming over was a different one.
But wishes don’t have shit to do with why I’m here.
Jimmy was after her.
I need to know why.
“Had a talk with Dejuan,“ is what I grunt out. It’s not an answer to either question she’s asked me since I got here. Why am I talking to her like she’s the one who did something wrong? I need to calm the fuck down.
While I take a minute to attempt that, I look around her place. There’s not a lot to it. She hasn’t been in Clayton Terrace long, but this apartment looks impersonal and bare. No boxes anywhere, so I wonder where the rest of the decor is. It’s the bare bones of a living space. She makes more than enough for this place to look at least a little more lived in. Where are the photos, stupid little knickknacks or hell, a candle? This is just furniture and a TV.
She takes inventory of my person and I don’t help her fill in any gaps. At this stage, I make my way to her kitchen. Washing my hands in her sink is useless, but I do it anyway. I didn’t wear my glove and now blood has started to sink into my skin. The tattoos on my fingers look more menacing decorated in red this way. Blood is one substance that even dark skin can’t hide.
She’s followed me into the kitchen, maintaining a distance from me that I don’t like but understand. Leaning against the door frame, she asks, “Was he the rat?”Huh?
Oh right. Dejuan.
I turn in the kitchen. Leaning against the sink opposite of her, I observe what state she’s in. She looks familiar in a way that I can’t place. Not just because I’ve been picturing her in my mind non-stop.
She has no makeup on, her hair is damp and in two braids I’d be happy to wrap around my tainted fists. Her legs are bare under that robe and so are her feet.
I like how she looks made up in her shiny outfits and all, but I like this natural version, too.
I could get used to seeing her like this.
Clearing my throat, I gruff, “The rat? Nah. A rat? Yea. And so I guess athank youis what I owe you.”
Shock breaks out across her face and I wonder why that is. “Thank me? I just told you what I heard.”
“You helped me with somethin’. Maybe more than I know right now.”
“Well…” She bites her lip, making moves to exit the kitchen. I’m not letting her get away from me. Not when she’s so close. It’s not very large and with the mood I’m in, my being here is likely suffocating for her. “If that’s it, I accept your gratitude. I’ll see you at work.”
My hand shoots out to the opposite side of the door jamb, preventing her from walking away. “Holdup. Where you goin’?”
She blinks and then crosses her arms over her chest. “I want to lay down. I’ve had an… unpleasant night. We can talk another time.”
I lean over her, my stature large enough to block the overhead lighting to cast her in shadow. “We’ll be done talkin’ when I say we’re done. Heard?”
Her eyes narrow the smallest bit but she doesn’t try to leave again.Good girl.
“Saw you leavin’ the club early tonight. Why?”
She looks in the direction of her front door. It’s visible over the breakfast bar on the other side of the counter we’re against.
