*** NEW AND IMPROVED ***
With her father missing, Shay will do anything to get him back, even if that means teaming up with a cruel gang leader and his band of psychotic men.
CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN.
***WARNING*** OFFENSIVE CON...
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SO COLD
After a quick tire change, a short drive back with speeds over the limit, and an argument about nothing in particular, the arrival back at the apartment complex brought back moods that were fickle, predisposed to tempestuous and volatile bursts of anger. We parked and walked the short distance to the building in silence. "Terrible weather, isn't it?" the late-night clerk, a pudgy pink-faced man with tuffs of hair peeking out of his nostrils, conversed out of cultural necessity. He looked at us from over his monitor, taking in our soaked figures and water-logged footwear and pushed back his wheeled chair, heaving himself up from behind the front desk. "I better get the Wet Floor signs out."
"Sorry," I apologised.
He waved away my apology, telling me it was fine, and as he was half-stuck through a doorway behind the desk, I hesitated as I weighed the pros and cons of an idea, and then flipped a coin on my decision and twisted my ankle around, turning back to him. "Uh, sir. We're in apartment 11B, and the showerhead seems faulty. Is there any way we could get a technician up there early this morning?"
Waiting at the elevators, Cole threw me a dirty look, heavy-browed and keeping his voice light. "It's been repaired. The technician came after you left for work, sweetheart." He flashed a derisive smile. "I must've forgotten to tell you."
"Oh," my smile was painful to pull. "Never mind then. He's always a ditz, forgetting to tell me things, awful memory, you know how it is,"
"My wife is the same," the night clerk moved around the reception desk, pulling apart a yellow sign as he strode across the communal area, "she'd forgot she was married if she could."
I laughed politely at his joke. "Oh, wouldn't we all," the elevator dinged upon its arrival, doors sliding apart. Heading away from the front desk, I joined Cole in the elevator. "Have a good night."
"You too!"
The doors slid shut. I was going to crack a joke about having shower sex but the coldness in his expression made my tongue curl up in submission, quiet and the joke withered and died at the back of my throat. The climb to the eleventh floor was uninterrupted. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
He unlocked the front door. "After you,"
"How gracious of you," I slipped off my shoes, slipping my sweatpants down my legs and stepping out. I didn't say a word about his intimidation tactic: locking the front door and moving ahead without dropping the keys into the bowl he normally would drop them in. I tugged off my sweatshirt up over my head and followed him into the bedroom for a clean set of clothes. "You've dripped onto the carpet."
"That should be the least of your concerns," he threw me a sideways look, opening up the wardrobe and throwing me a clean t-shirt and jogging pants. I took off my underwear and redressed, feeling better now I was out of sodden clothes. I tied my hair up as I watched him get dressed in a grey sweatshirt and matching grey sweatpants. He gathered the wet clothing and dumped them in a basket in the kitchen. He dialled a number soon after. "Come over."
