Page 3 of Eyes in the Shadows
“Hence, the thick socks.”
He tries not to laugh again and fails under the weight of my superior sarcastic deadpan, choosing to cover his eyes instead. “Don’t your socks get wet?”
“I avoid the snow piles.”
“You’re, what, 29?”
“28 for, like, two more months.” My tone is somewhat sharp—I get to joke about being old, he doesn’t get to call me old.
He holds up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Apologies. All I’m sayin’ is, you’re 28 and you’re wearing shoes just for their arch support?”
“Hey, it’s not pretty, but this is what you get when the adults in your life start calling you an old soul at eight years old.” I grab my phone and hurriedly type a few things into the search bar. “Which is why I refuse to sleep at the library. Want to split a motel room? Looks like the Super Dreams has availability for three nights for $120 before fees. I’ll do 70-30 with you.”
“They’ll need to fumigate again with what we bring back,” he says, frowning with distaste.
I can’t disagree. Any motel room that’s $40 a night around here is the kind of place where you bring your own cleaning wipes and shower shoes, and pray the stains on the rug aren’t blood. Or at least that the police solved the case.
It’s the only place around here cheap enough that I could afford it on my own, but I’d feel a lot safer with Harrison snoring in the other double bed. “80-20?”
He sighs and takes another bite, chewing slowly. “I guess it’ll be easier than trying to sneak my sleeping bag into the library. I still think we should shower at that fancy new gym.”
I wince, swiping through the pictures that the management at Super Dreams really thought would help sell the rooms. One of the pictures has a small mirror laying on the table in the little sitting area—at least someone remembered to wipe off the lines of coke for the photo. Another photo has a bedspread with some fairly obvious stains.
“Can’t argue with you, there. Maybe we should bring our own sheets.”
“Good idea. I guess it’ll be like an adventure.”
“Yeah, because Ilovethose,” I reply wryly.
I’ve lived in the same crappy apartment, worked the same crappy job for years. I haven’t been on a vacation since my parents took me when I was a kid.
My life may seem small and boring, but I like it. It’s easy. Predictable. Safe.
“You need something to shake things up every once in a while.”
2
Mac
Leave no trace—a motto beloved by snipers and national park enthusiasts alike.
According to the residents file that the oily property manager, Ed Something, gave me, the tenant of 3B is Eleanor Wilson. I blow out a breath as I lift my knuckles against the thick wood, preparing to lay on the charm. The old bags really love the southern accent, and I’ve never met a woman named Eleanor under the age of 75.
So, even though it’s 10 AM on a Tuesday, I fully expect the apartment to be occupied. Old usually means retired, bored, opinionated, and generally a pain in my ass for this kind of thing.
As if to prove my point, a head pops out from the apartment next door. The woman is so myopic that her glasses are half an inch thick, and the halo of gray curls is too perfect not to be a wig. She looks me up and down, taking in the gray jumpsuit. “You here about them bugs?” she asks in a thick Cajun accent.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I push the fake frames I’m wearing up my nose to draw more attention to them.
She startles at the twang in my voice, but it’s quickly replaced by irritation. “I don’t got nowhere to go, me.”
“We’re awful sorry for the short notice, Ma’am. Between you and me, this is one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen. You’ve never seen a nest this size. Another couple’a days and we would’ve had to condemn.”
Her eyes widen behind the lenses, though still appearing comically small in her face. “No,” she cries as she looks around nervously and scratches her arm, like she can feel the nonexistent bugs. “You serious? Hmm. I s’pose I can figure somethin’ out. You don’t start sprayin’ nothin’ ‘til Ileave, you. Uh?”
I nod, an answer to the creative noise that represents a question. “I’m getting everyone out first.”
She shuffles back into her apartment and the door slams.
