Page 60 of Sinister Red
“Maybe. Gonna have to get upstairs and find out.”
“Where are you again?”
“Sitting in a ditch.”
I roll my eyes as I walk up to the front of the building and start entering the first code. “In your truck, right?”
“Yep. Hit some black ice and went right off the fucking highway.” Marblesgiggles, and it has me arching a brow.
“On your way to pick up Harlow from work…”
“Yep.”
“But you know she isn’t off for another two hours…”
“Right.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I walk up to the elevator doors. “So you were just going to wait in the parking lot for a minimum of two hours and hope that Harlow actually gets out of work on time?”
“You ok, Sofie girl? Did I confuse you?” He laughs.
“No, I’m just trying to follow the train of thought that led to me riding up an elevator to check your pet out while neither of you are home.”
“It’s an emergency.”
“As you said in all caps via text message.” I step into the car and hit the button for the eighth floor. “Acheetah emergencythat didn’t occur to you until you were in a ditch off the highway.”
Marbles’ grin is audible through the phone. “That’s when I do my best thinking.”
“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”
“You’re right.” He cackles. “My best thinking happens when I’m balls deep inside my sweet Harlow Harlot.”
Should have seen that coming.“Why do you think Mortimer is constipated?” With a sigh, I exit the elevator and walk down to his apartment, the last one on the right with a military grade alarm system, courtesy of Spider. “When was the last time he pooped?”
“Eh… maybe like, three days ago?”
I drop my forehead to Marbles’ front door and close my eyes. “That’s not good, Mitch.”
“Oh,you used my real name. I must be in trouble.”
“Not yet, but if I walk in there to either find that your cheetah can poop just fine, or has explosive diarrhea the minute I take his temperature, I will make sure to let him do his business in your bedroom.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Hey, Sofie, I gotta go, babe. Red and blue riding up on my ass and I forgot to bring lube. Morty is in the spare bedroom, first door on the left, not the right, there’s jello everywhere and I don’t want you to fall. Keep me posted.” Then he hangs up, but not without what was clearly a police siren coming through the phone as well as what sounded vaguely like Harlow’s laugh.
But my best friend is at work, her boyfriend is nuts, and I’m sure I’m probably just as cracked myself since I’m about to play doctor with a fucking cheetah.
Wonderful.
I punch in the security code on Marbles’ front door, take a deep breath, then walk into the deceptively spacious apartment. With a defeated exhale, I look around as the door clicks then hisses closed behind me, still totally in awe of how nice this place is.
Apparently—as I learned shortly after we first met—Marbles is a neat freak.
You wouldn’t think so by looking at him, not with the holey clothes and crazy smile. He looks a little like he should be living in a refrigerator box in an alley over in Rolling Meadows to be honest, but looks can be deceiving and Marbles is the perfect example of that. He’s clean and tidy, very organized, and particular about where things go, and the apartment he shares with my best friend is simplistic and modern while still feeling homey, and there is never so much as a dish in the sink.
Harlow says it’s because he’s always trying to overcompensate for what he views as his shortcomings—his mind that isn’t as sharp as he thinks it should be but works on overdrive all the same, the fact that he’s scrambled everywhere else—his home being what brings the balance he needs to even things out. If his best friend hadn’t told me that a long time ago, I would have thought she was nuts, but I heard it from someone who lived with Marbles for a good portion of his life, and seeing it with my own two eyes over the past year or so, I can’t argue with either of them.
Mitchell Gentry is a better housekeeper than I am and I pride myself on my ability to rage clean.
