Page 76 of Inferno
“You live in storage room?” he questions.
“No, I err, live in the apartment. I was actually calling to give notice. I’ve been offered a job?—”
“You pay deposit?” he interrupts.
“Yes. I paid a four-hundred-dollar deposit.”
“You out by tomorrow night, I give deposit back. You not out, I don’t give.”
I’ve only met Mr. Yanis once. He was a large, somewhat sweaty man who showed me the apartment by opening the door, then shouted from the hallway, without ever setting foot inside the space.
“You come, my apartment, five p.m. tomorrow. You give keys, I give money. You no come, you don’t get.” I’m not sureof Mr. Yanis’s descent, but his accent is thick, guttural, and perpetually angry.
“Okay, I’ll…err, see you at five tomorrow,” I tell him. When he doesn’t respond, I look at my cell and realize he ended the call.
It takes me a long time to fall asleep that night. Partly because it’ll be the last night I spend here and partly because every time I close my eyes, images of Anders fill my mind. Since Bay shocked me by offering me a great job and a free apartment, I’ve managed to force thoughts of Anders from my mind. But in the dark silence of the night, with nothing and no one to distract me, all I can think about is him.
Eventually I give in and close my eyes, wrapping my hand around my hard dick, gripping tightly enough that I’m hoping my body will get the message and remember that he’s not mine. That he never was. That his pretty words and seductive touches were just a fleeting moment in time and not something that was built to last.
I wake up late to a message from Parker.
Parker: Hey, I know yesterday I said I’d help you move today, but could we do it tomorrow instead?
As I read her words, my mind remembers the conversation I had with Mr. Yanis last night. If I can get all my stuff out of the apartment by five p.m., he’ll give me my deposit back. Honestly, I hadn’t expected to ever see that money again, and now apparently, I never will. Four hundred bucks might not seem like much to some people, but it took me so long to save that money, and the idea of just relinquishing it feels wrong. But I don’t have a car, and I can’t carry a dozen large plastic totes and a mattress on the bus.
Instead of telling Parker what I’m at risk of losing, I type back a quick reply.
Me: Of course.
Parker: I’ll bring doughnuts and boxes in the morning.
Me: Okay, but no worries if you can’t make it.
Parker: I’ll see you at 9 a.m.
Me: Okay.
Sighing, I drag myself out of bed, take a cold shower, and then glance around my apartment, wondering how much it would cost to pay someone to come and pick up my stuff and drive it to Rockhead Point.
SIXTEEN
ANDERS
It’s earlywhen my cell starts to ring. Glancing at the screen, I see Danny’s name and question if I should answer or just let it go to voicemail. I’m sitting on my couch, the coffee table and floor surrounding me littered with the empty beer bottles that are the remnants of the pretty epic pity party I threw myself after Danny, Oz, and I got back from our visit to the garage yesterday afternoon.
“Goodbye, Anders.” The sound of his voice telling me goodbye and the finality of his quietly spoken words have been tormenting me since the moment he uttered them. It was me that ended things. It was me that lied and said I needed to go out of town. It was me who told him, without having the balls to actually say out loud that it was over. It was me who ruined things.
But it was his goodbye that heralded the death knell. He made the kill stroke. He did what I wasn’t man enough to do. He said goodbye.
Now hours later, after drinking my own body weight in beer and whiskey, I can’t think of a single reason good enough to keep me away from him. He’s become like a drug to me, and afterless than twenty-four hours without him, I can feel the itching need beneath my skin as my craving for him increases hour after hour.
Henry is mine, and I walked away because I was scared. But instead of confronting my fear, I’ve run away from it like the fucking pussy that I am. My cell stops ringing, then immediately starts again, the shrill, cheerful tone that usually makes me smile, sounding too loud, too happy, and too fucking annoying.
Reaching for the cell, I hit Answer, then bring it to my ear.
“Hello,” I say, my voice extra gruff from the alcohol and misery.
“Hey, I thought you should know your man is moving to the apartment above the garage. Parker was supposed to be helping him with his stuff, but me and her have some things to sort out before I go on shift, so there’s an opening for a big, strong moving buddy,” Danny says.
