“My name’s not important,” I said.
“Oh, more mystery, huh? I like that.” He gave me that wide smile again.
“I have to get dressed,” I said, and started away, but he reached out and seized my wrist.
“Naw, you don’t have to get dressed yet. You just told me you’re not going on a date. You can keep me company.”
“Well, it’s not a date, but I’m meeting someone.”
“That’s not a date? More mystery?” he said, and pulled me a little closer. “You smell fresh. Just take a shower or something?”
“Please. You’re hurting my wrist,” I said. He was holding me very tightly, his grip burning my skin.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, releasing his grip on my wrist, but then he seized the belt on my robe. “What are you really, the warm-up girl? Like an act before the main act or something? Because I don’t mind.”
I shook my head.
“You invited me in for a drink. Is this some role-playing game, part of the service? Because if it is, I like it.”
“No.”
I backed away, but he held on to my robe’s belt.
“Please, let me go,” I said.
“I like that. Pleading. Sexy,” he said, getting off the stool. He tugged my belt and then reached for me, taking hold of the collar of the robe. “How about we get it on first, then?” he said. “Pass the time?”
When he brought his lips toward me, I pushed on his forehead, and then I spun, slipping out of the robe and running naked to my bedroom. I heard his laughter as I locked the door behind me. Shivering with fear, I hurried to put on a blouse and a pair of jeans. He came to the door and tried the knob.
“Hey!” he yelled. “What is this?”
“Please. Go away,” I said, crying now. He rattled the knob. I thought he might break the lock, but suddenly, he stopped. I held my breath, and then I heard Roxy’s voice and him walking away from my door.
23
I didn’t leave my room. Still trembling, I returned to my bed and sat waiting to see what was going to happen. I heard the music get turned off, but I didn’t hear any voices. The silence made me even more nervous. What was going on out there? Did Roxy realize she had forgotten a date? Was there a real mix-up, and was she explaining it to him? Would it matter to him?
I began to worry about Roxy. Although the man wore expensive clothes and jewelry, there was something very common and streetlike about him. My mind spun with images from mobster movies. I paced in my room, stopping when I thought I heard someone shouting. It grew quiet, and then it sounded as if something hit the building. I held my breath and listened. This time, I heard footsteps, and then I clearly heard the door slam. Was it the front door or the door to Roxy’s bedroom?
I went to mine and pressed my ear against it, listening. It was very silent again, ominously silent this time. If the man had left, why didn’t Roxy come to see me? Terrified but seeing nothing else I could do, I unlocked the door and opened it slightly. Still, I heard nothing.
My first thought was to close it again and wait for Roxy. Of course, she could have left with the man, but if she had, she surely would have come by to tell me she was going, wouldn’t she? There was no point in her pretending there was no one but her there now. I waited and listened, and then I began to move slowly toward the living room. I kept as quiet as I could. There was no one there—no one at the bar and no one in the kitchen or the dining room. The apartment was still dead quiet. Nothing looked moved or touched. His whiskey glass was still on the bar.
I paused and listened for voices again but heard none. Dare I do it? What else could I do? I had to find out what was happening. I practically tiptoed to Roxy’s bedroom. The door was closed. My heart was racing so hard and fast I thought I might faint in the hallway. After every few steps, I paused to listen. It was too silent. Roxy must have left with him, I concluded, and went to her door. I stood there for a moment, and then I pressed my ear against it to listen for voices, sounds, anything. I thought I heard a sob.
I certainly didn’t want to confront that man again, but I had to do it. I had to take a chance.
“Roxy?” I called. “Are you there?”
It grew silent again.
“Roxy?”
“Go back to your room, M. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Are you all right?”
“Go back to your room,” she ordered.