My nap was brief—I knew that much because when my eyelids flitted open, the sky was still dark. I was flat on my back, a pillow cushioned under my head where I laid on the couch. And X was nowhere to be seen.
I rubbed my eyes and turned my watch over. Two in the morning. As I pushed up on one arm, I looked around the room for any signs of X. The kitchen, where our sex shenanigans had started, was completely dark. The only light I could see was where the hallway lamps spilled muted light into the dining room.
Pressing a hand to my forehead, I was surprised I didn’t feel sick. I’d had a lot of whiskey—more than my fair share—and my head was surprisingly normal. I had that light, general empty-stomach feeling which made me slightly queasy. But nothing else. Not even a buzz.
Footfalls on the steps had me pushing to a sitting position when X walked through the dining room and made his way toward me. I didn’t know how to act—how to behave. I didn’t regret the sex—it’d been a long ass dry spell for me and X certainly knew how to move his body in every way that mattered. But I wasn’t sure what that made us. We were, essentially, co-conspirators in a murder, and now that we’d done the dirty on his couch, I wondered how to behave.
As he came closer, I took in his attire. All black, from the sneakers to the turtleneck he wore. “Wow, you’ve got a costume.”
He looked down at his clothes and then at me. “Well, I figured we’re going to need to look incognito if we’re going to get rid of a body, right?”
“Get rid of?” I asked, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “How do you propose we do that?”
X shrugged. “Dump him in a dumpster or something?”
I laughed, so hard that I clutched my belly. “Oh, Xylophone. You’re adorable, you know that?” When he didn’t react, just raised an eyebrow quizzically at me, I continued. “We can’t just dump a body anywhere. It’s called evidence. He fell on the floor of my kitchen—and since your house is spotless, maybe you don’t understand this—but I’m not gonna lie, I don’t remember the last time I mopped that place. He probably has a hundred bits of evidence of me on his body. Women shed hair like you wouldn’t believe.” To illustrate, I ran my fingers through mine and then held it up. “Look. I didn’t even tug and there’s, what, one, two, three … six strands in my hand.”
“Well, we can’t just leave him in your apartment. What if your PO shows up again?”
“That’s true. We need a place to stash him.” I rubbed my chin. “Okay, how about this. We pack him up and bring him back here. You don’t have a PO dropping by unexpectedly. You don’t even appear to have friends.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“I mean, do you?” When he didn’t answer, I said, “Okay, it’s settled. We’ll pack him up and bring him here and maybe, by then, we’ll both have had enough time to figure out what to do with him.”
“Bring him here. To my house.”
“Yup. It’ll be perfect. No one would suspect you’ve got a body just chilling in these digs.” I waved a hand at him. “Then again, your outfit doesn’t exactly scream that you have innocent intentions.”
“It’s black. It’s like camouflage at night.”
“Sure. But keep in mind, we’re moving it out of my apartment—in a decently lit area. A guy dressed in all black is going to raise more than a few eyebrows.”
“I think a guy carrying a bag the size of himself is going to do that on his own,” he replied flatly. “Here.” He tossed me a sweatshirt. “You’ve got those yoga pants, but I figured you’d need something to cover your...” He whirled a finger around my chest, which was completely naked.
“My breasts?” I asked him, a hint of a smile on my lips. “Yes. Best to hide these bad boys.”
“I mean...” He kept looking from them to my face, and I found it endearing.
I laughed and stood, tucking my head into the sweatshirt hole and letting it fall over me. “Yeah, you’re kind of adorable, X.” I walked around the couch to him and brushed my fingers along the side of his face. “Hi.”
He let loose a breath, and his whole face softened. “Hi.” I felt his fingers tangle in my hair and I leaned into him. “Oh, I made you a sandwich.”
I tilted my head to the side. “A sandwich?”
“I know you like sandwiches. I made one like the one you made when you broke in. I figured you could use it after the whiskey distillery you drank. You need your strength.”
“That so?” I laid a hand flat on his chest and wished it wasn’t covered by all of this fabric. “You really are adorable. You’re letting me borrow your sleuthing clothes and you made me a sandwich.” I patted his chest and let him lead me to the kitchen, swiping up my yoga pants on the way and tugging them on. He handed me a parchment paper-wrapped sandwich and a water bottle.
“Ready?” he asked.
Nodding, I let him lead me to the driveway where his car was parked and running already. He opened my door, and then seemed like he wanted to close it before I made it there. Knowing he was just as confused as I was gave me some comfort, and I ran my hand down his arm as it held open my door.
“Let’s go retrieve a dead guy,” I said with a hell of a lot more confidence than I felt.
• • •
My parking lot was blessedly quiet when we arrived. Once X had turned off the engine, we sat for a moment in the car, looking up at my dark apartment.
“At least it doesn’t appear that someone broke in during my absence.”
“That’s a thing that happens around here?”
His ignorance made me laugh. “Yeah, that’s a ‘thing’ that happens around here. I mean, have you noticed this place? No security alarms for miles. In fact, if you look at the side of my door, you’ll see exactly where it was kicked in before.” At his look of alarm, I patted him reassuringly. “Not while I lived there. Not yet, at least. I think my duct taped car kind of puts off any potential burglars.”
X looked around the nearly-empty parking lot. “Where is your car?”
“Oh.” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about it. “Unless it’s been stolen—fingers crossed—or towed, it’s still in your neighborhood. Broke down when I was on the way to your place yesterday.” After glancing at the clock on his dash, I said, “Okay, two days ago.”
“Don’t you think you should check on it?”
I shrugged noncommittally and unlatched my seatbelt. “Not necessarily. It’s worthless anyway.”
“So you don’t have a car?”
I shook my head, not wanting to talk anymore about the state of my train-wreck life, and gripped the door handle. “Ready to go, Chatty Cathy? We gotta get this guy out before the sun comes up.”
X wordlessly followed me up the metal steps to my apartment, his gaze swinging back and forth. I wondered what he thought about where I lived. Obviously it was unlike where he lived—the torn condom wrappers strewn across my neighbor’s apartment door would’ve made that plainly clear. And the garbage bag that emitted a stench worse than death beside that door was almost too much for me to walk past. He barely eyed it though, looking at the windows of each apartment we passed.
“Look, if you want people to look at us suspiciously, keep up what you’re doing.”
“What?” he whispered when we were at my door.
“As far as everyone in this neighborhood knows, we’re coming home late. Not looking to see if anyone is watching us,” I whispered back as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. A horrific stench? An undead Ron walking around my apartment and making himself at home? Certainly, the former was more likely, but I didn’t entirely rule out the latter either.
When X waited just outside the door, I tugged him in and closed the door softly. “You going to be okay?” I asked him, his panic attack still on the edge of my mind.
His eyes met mine, and he had never looked as solid, as sure. “I’ll be fine. What do you suggest we do?”
“I don’t know.” Because I couldn’t help it, I leaned over the island and peered into the kitchen. Ron was still in the exact same place as before. Hadn’t moved an inch.
“Have you deduced that Ron hasn’t become the walking dead in our time away?”
“Doesn’t look like it.” I placed my hands on my hips and looked around the room. I had very few things I could use to conceal a body. My bedroom door was open a crack, and I saw the sheets hanging off the edge of my bed.
“I can wrap him in sheets, but we’re going to need something else to carry him out in that doesn’t scream, ‘This is a body!’ Any ideas?”
X swung his head around before he stopped and stared at me. “I mean, do you think we should cut him up?”
“What? No! Oh my god, no! We’re not removing him in pieces, crazy. This isn’t Dexter.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so either.” He looked relieved that I’d shot him down. “Do you have a suitcase, or a trunk, or something?”
I rubbed my hand across my chin as I thought. “Hey. Go out to the dumpster. It’s just on the side of the building. My neighbors downstairs get a new TV or couch every week—drug dealers, man—so there’s gotta be something in the dumpster big enough to put Ron in.”
X looked mildly pained at the idea of dumpster diving, but rolled up his sleeves regardless and went out the door without an objection.
I ripped the sheets off my bed, grateful for my cheap practicality. It’d kill my soul if I’d wrapped Ron up in sheets with a thread count above the two-hundred.
Laying the sheet beside where Ronald lay in the kitchen, I shored up as much courage and bravery as I had. After shaking my hands out, I crouched down and put my hands under Ron and tried to roll him onto the sheet. His skin made this wet, sticking sound as I peeled him off my linoleum and my stomach churned a little. He was a lot heavier than me, I knew, so I sucked it up and tried again, when the front door opened.
“Found a box,” X said breathlessly as he tossed a box to a portable dishwasher into the room.
“A dishwasher?” I said, stepping around the kitchen. “Those assholes. Lucky assholes. Damn.”
“I have a dishwasher,” X said when I looked at the box like I wanted to rub my body all over it.
“What, is her name Mary? Does she come three times a week? Let me guess: she washes your underwear too.”
“Despite my...wealth, I don’t hire a staff.”
I had to laugh at the way he said it, as if he expected congratulations for not having a staff. I slapped playfully at his shoulder. “Well, hot damn, Xena. We finally have something in common. Despite what you may think, I don’t have a staff either.”
He pursed his lips, and I tugged him with me into the kitchen.
“I need you to help me roll him onto this sheet,” I said, motioning to where he should squat beside me. “Then we’ll put him in the box and carry it out the door.”
It took three heaves before Ron’s body was fully on the sheet, but once he was, X covered his face and feet and lifted him off the floor. I knew those muscles would come in handy.
I held the top flaps of the box apart for him to place Ron inside and then closed it. “Think you can carry this yourself out to the car?”
He gave me a look that was if he’d said, ‘Oh, please,’ before he lifted the box. After some awkward maneuvering due to the box’s dimensions, he finally had it in place. He raised an eyebrow at me. “Going to hold open the door at least?”
I skipped over to the door and flung it open, admiring the view of his ass as he carried the box in front of me. After locking the door, I followed him as casually as possible to the car and opened the back of his SUV. He set the box in easily and carefully, before turning to me, his face red and his breaths a little strained.
A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and his eyes were dark—from lack of sleep and stress, probably. I pushed back the lock and held it in place as he held my gaze. Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned in and brushed my lips against his. It was the lightest of kisses—and the first time I’d actually initiated it.
When he pulled away and his eyes slid open, he looked at me quizzically.
Shrugging, I said, “I just figured it looked less suspicious if we made this look more romantic than,” I looked sideways at the box, “’oh hey, thanks for putting my dead drug dealer into your car.’”
He laughed lightly. “I can’t believe I’m finding anything about this situation funny,” he said as he closed the back door.
I curtsied and followed him to the passenger side of the car. “It’s one of my talents,” I said proudly as I slid into the seat.
“One of many,” he said under his breath before closing the door.