Chapter 10

 

Gabriel

 

At seven o’clock sharp I’m knocking on a dilapidated door of apartment 4B in a run-down apartment building in the Hermosa neighborhood of Chicago.  Hermosa isn’t a terrible place to live, I suppose. There are worse, certainly.  But, this building is a joke.  I’m not sure it’d pass code in its current state of, well, duress.

When no one answers the door, I knock again.  Leaning my ear closer to the door, I hear talking and a little squawking. “What the hell?” I whisper.  When I hear the clicking of footsteps, I stand back and wait. 

I watch the door as it’s slowly pulled open and one big blue eye peeks out of the two-inch gap created by the door and the chain. “Oh, it’s you.”

Who else would it be? I told her I’d pick her up at seven. It’s seven.  Rolling my eyes, I play along, “Yes. It certainly is. May I come in?”

“Oh, you want to come in? To my apartment?”

“I’d prefer that to the mugging I’m about to endure thanks to your neighbor who’s been lurking at the end of the hall for the last ten minutes.”

Giggling, she shuts the door. For a moment, I’m worried she’s decided against letting me inside, but when I hear the chain disengage and the door reopen, wider this time, I sigh in relief. Literally. Sigh. “Thank you,” I mutter as I step into the world’s tiniest apartment.  I walk down the short hallway past two, how shall I say this? Two animal habitats.  I can’t help myself; I have to know what she’s housing.  “Is that a turtle?”

Yes, that’s Shelly. She’s a Red Eared Slider turtle. And over here are my guinea pigs, Ron and Hermione.” She looks at me expectantly. 

“From Harry Potter?”

“Yes! Yay! Have you read the books?”

“Uh, no.” But, hell, you’d have to be dead not to know ‘Ron and Hermione’.

She leads me into; I guess you could call it a living room but I’d probably categorize it as more of a closet-size space.  She has the entire room filled with Christmas decorations. There’s a small tree in the only available corner. It’s adorned with lights and ornaments that have seen better days.  There is one stocking hanging from a hook on the wall next to the tree. Beneath the tree are several packages already wrapped and labeled. She must prepare for Christmas early. Around the perimeter of the room, she’s strung white lights and hung some of the snowflakes from the holiday party.  I’d love to tell you it looks good, but…

I follow her over to a cage that hangs from a hook on the ceiling. Peering inside, I wince. “What is that?” I say, disgusted. It’s hideous. It’s a cross between a bird and an unsuccessful scientific experiment.

She looks a tad offended but she soldiers on, “This is my best fella, Cyclops.”

“Your ‘best fella’?” I say ‘best fella’ slowly, so she understands my confusion.

“Yes. I’ve had him the longest. He’s my buddy. He keeps me company.”

“I imagine.” I nod but, no… No, I can’t imagine that this ugly, disfigured creature would do anything other than terrify small children. 

“You’re not an animal lover, I take it,” she says crossing her arms over her chest making them press up and out. 

It’s then I take notice of her dress. “I thought you bought new clothes.”

Lexie’s face turns from a lovely light pink, almost porcelain hue to a deep shade of magenta in seconds. “This is new. It’s a 1950s vintage Dior party dress.”

“Vintage?”

“Yes, vintage.”

“I specifically told Victoria…”

“And I told her I didn’t want to dress like I was going to a funeral. She worked with me to find things that match my personality.”

“Well, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m suddenly feeling very ill. I’m afraid you’ll have to attend whatever this thing is tonight alone. Or better yet, call one of your regulars.”

“Jesus, you make it sound like I hire prostitutes.” She shrugs.  Is she sincerely implying what I think she’s implying? Or is that inferring? I can never keep those straight. “I beg your pardon.”

“I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s none of my business anyway.”

“Look. This gallery exhibit is important. I promise to be on my best behavior. My apologies for any comments about your attire that you may have found offensive. If it’s any consolation, the garment you’re wearing looks fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes. Fine.”

“This is a Dior. A black velvet dress in with silk, embroidered floral design in fuchsia, red, and green to be exact.”

“Wonderful. Now, let’s find your wrap and go, so we’re not late.”

Growling. Yes, that’s what I said, growling, she pulls on the world’s ugliest winter parka. It’s got faux fur around the hood. Oh, hell. It’s got a hood.  “So, you didn’t happen to buy a dress coat today?”

“Nope,” she snaps.

I think I’d better stop talking about her clothing. She’s taking off the offending outwear as I watch. “Please. I’m sorry. Your coat is fine.”

“Fine?” she says gritting her pretty teeth.

“Yes. It’s fine.”

Stomping to her front door, she yanks the rickety old door open, almost off its hinges. I step out into the hallway. I’m half expecting her to slam the door closed with her still inside, but as luck would have it, she’s decided to accompany me tonight. Yay?

“My driver is waiting for us if you’d like to come this way.”

“You have a driver?”

“Of course.”

“Figures,” she mutters. 

It’s strange. I don’t recall the last time I’ve been on a date with someone so unimpressed before. As far as dates go, this one is starting off a little rocky. I intend on smoothing things out in the car. If not, my plans of having Miss Cartwright in my lap on the way home will never come to fruition. 

I let my mind linger on her backside as she walks down the steps. She hasn’t yet put her parka back on so I get to see her lovely curves in the designer dress.  The dress hugs her hips, and ass then tapers down fitting snuggly to just below her knees. Further down I can’t help noticing she’s wearing stockings with the seam that runs up the back. Wow, those are sexy as hell. Following the seam, I note four-inch stilettos in––you guessed it––fuchsia.

At the bottom of the steps, I slide my palm onto her lower back. “My apologies, Miss Cartwright. Now that I’ve gotten a better look at your dress, I find I rather like it.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Sarcasm? “Let’s get your coat on, shall we?  It’s brisk tonight.”

I help her on with her coat.  Standing in front of her, I slowly work the snaps closed. Yes. That’s what I said. Snaps.  When I get to the snap closest to her face, I look down at her and whisper.  “You look lovely, Lexie.” I lean down and give her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.  I feel her shiver, and I smirk.  A shiver is a good sign. A very good sign.

“Thank you. So do you.”

Of course, I do. But, I keep the bravado to myself.  “Thank you. Now, let’s get going.”