Page 13 of Fish out of Water
The door to the mailroom opened and two men I didn’t recognize came in.
Which was a problem. As the only person under the age of sixty living here, I knew everyone and everyone knew me.
I was their token young person. They sought me out for any and everything. Questions about cell phone plans. How to find the password to their internet.
What WAP meant.
That was a fun discussion.
Grant’s hold on me tightened as his front pressed into my back. His lips rested against my ear. “Just go with this, Banana Pants.”
Go with what?
It was all the warning I got before I was turning, spinning in place until it was no longer my back Grant’s body was pressed against.
It was my front.
He held me close. Tight in a way I’d never been held, one hand running down my back, sliding along my spine.
Lower.
Lower.
I barely noticed the slip of the envelope from under my shirt as he leaned into me, face tucking against my neck. “How you doing?”
“Fine.” It was a bold-faced lie.
I was not fine. Not by a long shot.
“Stay close to me.” He straightened but didn’t let me go. The arm around me pulled my body tight to the side of his as he walked toward the door. Grant tipped his head to the men as we passed. “Morning.”
The men who hadn’t made any move to collect their mail nodded back, one after the other.
Grant pushed me out the door ahead of him, one hand staying on my back, pressing firmly as he directed me away from the mailbox room.
I craned my neck, trying to look behind us.
“Eyes straight ahead, Banana Pants.”
“Who were those guys?”
“That’s what I was about to ask you.” He pushed me a little faster as the heavy metal door of the mailroom clicked open.
We made it to the stairs leading to my apartment just as the first man appeared.
Grant pushed me along. “Go.”
The urgency in his voice made me move faster than my footwear could withstand. As I took the next step my toe crotch blew out the thong of my flip-flop, sending me nosediving toward the cement treads.
Grant caught me around the waist, hauling my body up as he continued moving, taking the steps two at a time. “If you’re going to be a pain in the ass then you need to start wearing shoes you can run in.”
“Shoes have nothing to do with how I run.” I managed to get back on my feet just as we reached the landing for the second floor. My ruined flip-flop dangled from my ankle as I leaned to peek over the edge of the solid partition running up the side of the open-air hall connecting the apartments on this floor.
Grant yanked me back. “Was it not clear we didn’t want them to see where we went?”
“I wanted to see wheretheywent.”
“Christ.” Grant practically shoved me to my door. “Open it.”
