“It’s affordable.” I slip out of my jacket and hang it on the standing coat rack.
“We pay you better than this.” He drops the curtain and spins on his heel, sweeping his hand out.
“Thanks. That wasn’t at all insulting.”
“You live in a shoebox.”
“I live in an apartment.” I correct. “It’s a little small, but I have everything I need. A living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom.”
My face heats when his attention swings to the bedroom door I just pointed out. There’s no hallway, just two doors off the living room and the kitchen area.
“Your kitchen is in the living room.”
“We can’t all be billionaires, Ivan.” I lean back against the wall and take in a deep breath. “It’s late; I’m sure you have somewhere to be.”
“I don’t.”
A heavy knock on my door cuts in, and he immediately stands straighter.
“I got it.” I put my hand out to stop him from charging to the door.
His jaw tightens, but he stills, giving me a permissive nod.
“Hey, Vee. I’m sorry, but Marion is stuck in the bed again. Can you help me real quick?” Maxine, my neighbor, stands at my door in her pink and gray plaid pajama set.
“Yeah. Of course.” I turn toward Ivan, only to find him standing right behind me.
He eyes Maxine with her shoulder length dark hair pulled up into a messy ponytail and her thick rimmed glasses, assessing her as though she’s a danger. Maxine, to her credit, gives him a deadpan stare in response.
“I need to help her. Feel free to let yourself out.” I follow Maxine to her apartment, where Marion has once again climbed up into the boxspring from a hole she tore beneath the bed.
“I’m so sorry to bug you, it’s so late, but I heard you talking when you got home.” Maxine gets on the floor, lying flat so she can slide under once I pick up the bed for her. The bed is too low to the ground for any human to wiggle beneath it, but the perfect height for a black cat with a major attitude problem to make it through.
“It’s okay.” I lift the bed, and she pushes herself beneath, reaching up into the hole in the boxspring.
An irritated meow later, Marion is out, and Maxine sits with her in her lap inspecting her paw. “She’s going to get it broken one of these times. I’m just going to take the boxspring off the frame. Every time I put stuff under there to keep her out, she just wiggles through it anyway. Damn cat.”
Marion seems to understand her, because she narrows her eyes at Maxine and mewls in disagreement.
“So, who’s the guy?” Maxine asks while walking me to the door.
“Just my boss. My car died, and he gave me a lift home.” I step into the hall. “He’s just my boss.”
It doesn’t matter how many times I say it, or how matter of fact I make it sound, she’s still giving me a look like we’re in high school and I’ve somehow scored a date with the captain of the football team.
“Okay.” She clears her throat, like she’s trying not to laugh. “Just your boss that drove you home, parked his car and walked you up two flights of stairs, and is now waiting for you in your apartment.”
“I’m going.” I scratch Marion behind her ear. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I step into the hallway, shutting her door behind me.
As I get to my door a gunshot rings out, followed by a scream.
Another shot rings out and I get my feet to move, throwing open my apartment door and hurrying inside.
Ivan stands at the window, watching the street.
“Stay there.” He points a long finger at me. “It’s just an idiot firing off a gun in the air. Stay away from the window.”
