I sat there and felt the old, familiar excitement building.
Two hours and change went by before I saw a familiar face.Rory wore a tank and shorts and running shoes, and he looked like he was either going to the gym or to get plowed.The way he walked, though, said something different.His face, too.He dragged himself down the street.His eyes were sunken, and his expression was vacant.Grief, maybe.Or guilt.Or both.How long had it been since I’d found Tip?Two days?Three?That seemed impossible.It felt like it had been years.
Rory climbed into a cute little Mazda and drove away.As soon as his car was out of sight, I jogged over to the apartment and knocked.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
The door opened, and Jordan looked out at me.Like Rory, he was a wreck: he hadn’t combed his hair, and his eyes were bloodshot and ringed with shadows, and his nose was red.He was dressed in a Freddy’s t-shirt that looked too well-worn to be anything but a comfort wear, with frozen custard featured prominently on the front, and he had a blanket draped around his shoulders like a shawl.
Shock at seeing me made his eyes go wide.And then his color dropped as shock changed to fear.
That was what I’d wanted to know.
“You lied to me, Jordan.You know what that means?That means you’re in deep shit—”
He slammed the door.
I’d thought I was ready, but he was faster than I’d expected.I grabbed the handle and turned it before he could set the lock.Then I put my shoulder to the door and shoved inward.Jordan grunted, but he was a kid, and he was panicking.He stumbled back.
I moved into the apartment.Jordan was breathing harshly, and the sounds were explosive in the darkened apartment.The place was even more of a sty than it had been last time I’d visited: the bifold doors were open, and in the washing machine, wet clothes had been left in the drum until they’d gone sour; glasses and bottles covered the coffee table, the TV stand, the kitchen counter; takeout containers were piled high in the trash can, and next to it, a black garbage bag that was already full explained the stink of food gone bad.
“What are you doing?”Jordan asked.His voice was high.He backpedaled toward the kitchen, his bare feet making sticky sounds against the floor.“What do you want?”
I shut the door and threw the deadbolt.
“You can’t—you can’t come in here!”If anything, Jordan’s voice had gotten higher.“You have to leave!”
I made my way to the apartment’s front window and closed the blinds.
“Don’t do that!”
I crossed toward the kitchen.Jordan scrambled back to keep his distance, the blanket slipping from one shoulder now.I lowered the blinds in the kitchen window too.The lights were off, and the slivers of light that managed to make their way inside gave the apartment a dusky, midday gloom.
“What are you doing?Why are you doing that?”Jordan seemed to make an effort to pull himself together, but his eyes kept darting around the room—away from me, back, away again.“You’re not supposed to be here!Those detectives said so.You need to get out of here right now, or—”
“Or what?”I asked.
His jaw hung slack.He was breathing through his mouth.The poor kid was probably thirty seconds away from a full-blown panic attack.
“Or you’ll call the police?”When Jordan didn’t say anything, I said, “Go ahead, Jordan.Call the police.”
I bent to open one of the cabinet doors.It looked like particleboard.I gave it a few experimental swings, open, closed, open, closed.I slammed it, and the cabinet door banged.Jordan jumped and let out a whimpering breath.Hard to tell, but I think maybe he peed a little.
“What are you doing?”he moaned.“Rory’s not here.Can’t you just go away?”
“I don’t want to talk to Rory.I want to talk to you, Jordan.And this time, I want you to tell me the truth.”
“I already told you!I told you the truth!I told you everything!”Hysteria tinged his shouts.“If you don’t get out of here right now, Iwillcall the police.I’ll—I’ll show them that picture!”
That stopped me.“What picture?”
“That picture of Rory fucking you.You’ll get fired.Or arrested.Or something.”
I nodded.“This is going to be a real bummer, Jordan, but they already know I fucked Rory.Fuck, at this point, the whole town probably knows.So, if you want to call them, go ahead.”
But he didn’t go for his phone.He didn’t move at all if you didn’t count those shallow, trembling breaths.
