Page 62 of Off the Wall
I’m not expecting a response at this hour of the night, and anyway, Cash comes through the door, so I set down my phone. His jaw is tense, and his hands are empty. This can only mean one thing.
“No keys?”
He gives a terse jerk of his head. “I have no idea where they could’ve gone. This is all just so …” His voice trails off.
“Weird?”
“I was going to say frustrating, but yeah. Weird too. It’s like your keys just got up and walked away.”
“Maybe they fell out before we got to the courtyard,” I suggest.
“Could they be at Sir Axe-A-Lot? Or in Warren Snuze’s car?”
“You mean hisminivan.”
“The guy drives a minivan?”
“Indeed he does.” I let out a sharp guffaw. “But I had to use my keys to get in the building. That’s the last time Iremember seeing them.” I grimace. “So I guess we need to find Steve.”
Steve is our new building manager. He’s super-friendly, and fond of sweater vests. He’s usually found in the parlor if he’s not plunging toilets or fixing sinks.
“I already looked for him.” Cash draws his brows together again. “But it’s pretty late. I didn’t expect to find him. So I went up to Archer’s place to see if I could borrow his spare key, but he wasn’t there either.”
“We used to keep a key under the mat, but my brother made me promise to stop doing that after he moved out.”
“Smart man.” A vein pulses at Cash’s temple. “That’s the first place the bad guys look.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “The bad guys?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. But now I’m locked out of my apartment, so I kind of wish I’d risked the bad guys checking under my mat.”
The kettle starts whistling, and Cash tips his head. “You boiled water?”
I nod. “For tea. Or whatever.”
I wait on the couch, curled into one corner, while he heads to the kitchen and bangs around in the cabinets and drawers. When he finally reappears, he’s holding two steaming mugs with spoons sticking out.
“Tea?”
“Cocoa.” There’s a tic at his jaw, and if I’m not mistaken, a tinge of pink spreads along his throat. Like he’s a little embarrassed to be serving me hot chocolate.
“If there are marshmallows in this cup, I think I might expire from happiness.”
“There are marshmallows.” He puffs out a small laugh, handing over one of the mugs and settling onto the other side of the couch. “But I don’t want to be responsible for your demise.”
“On the contrary,” I say. “You saved me tonight.” I take a beat, tipping my head. “In fact, I think we might have our thumb now.”
He blinks. “Our what?”
“You know. The fifth thing.” I hold up my hand to count on my fingers. “Snail. Panties. Car. Bike. And …” I stick my thumb out. “Pool.” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “We’re a whole hand now. Officially friends.”
His blue-gray eyes lock on mine, a sweet moment of recognition, and the spark of something vital drops into my heart. The elusive ingredient that’s escaped me on all these dates.
For all these years.
“To friends.” Cash holds his mug up in a toast.
