Then I ignored it as I grabbed my bottle and started going back to my balcony with plans to curl up on my lounger under the stars. And possibly drink until I couldn’t drink anymore.
The buzzing became more insistent, no longer short bursts but coming in one long, annoying sound that drilled into my brain. With a growl of frustration, I realized it was my apartment’s buzzer.
“Sorry, not the time to visit,” I muttered, but the person kept at it. Finally, I marched over and punched my thumb down on the intercom button. “Jeremiah’s not here. Leave a message.”
“This isn’t your voicemail,” a sweet, familiar voice said through the slatted metal box. “It’s me, Jer. Stephanie. Can I come up?”
I swayed on my feet again, a wave of dizziness threatening to make me lose my balance. Warm whiskey roiled in my stomach. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Hovering my finger over the intercom button, I looked around at my apartment after blinking a few times to clear my vision. It swam into view. Not a pretty sight. Clothes, blankets, cushions, empty bottles, glasses, and cardboard containers were strewn around.
Some of the furniture was askew, though I couldn’t remember when or how that happened. Past the living areas in the kitchen, dirty utensils and implements lay forgotten on the stove and countertops.
I rubbed my eyes, surveying the carnage of my usually immaculate home. Courtesy of my housekeeper, but I liked keeping things clean and neat too.
A large mirror hung on the wall in the entrance hall. I twisted around to see my reflection in it. Jesus. I looked as bad as my apartment did. My skin’s pallor was unhealthy and pale. It had a grayish tinge to it I couldn’t imagine being a good thing.
Shadows bloomed under my eyes, dark smudges of bluish purple that reminded me of people dressing up for Halloween, but October was a long way away. I looked pinched, tired, and angry.
My jaw was tight, my features arranged into a scowl that felt permanent. Eyes narrowed almost to slits, there was barely any skin left between my eyebrows for how much they were knitted together.
Blue drawstring pants hung from my hips and a navy robe over my shoulders, but I wasn’t wearing anything else. Honestly, I didn’t even remember putting this on after my last shower. Which was… fuck if I knew.
The place was a mess. I was a mess. The state I was in wasn’t pretty. I didn’t want her to see me like this. If she did, she would probably turn tail and run in the other direction as fast as her legs could carry her. Any sane woman would.
No one would want to stick around to deal with the mess in my life. Couldn’t say I blamed them either. If I could, I would probably run in the other direction about now. It had to smell better there.
Stephanie, oblivious to what she was asking to be let in on, spoke up again. “Come on, Jeremiah. Please let me come up.”
I leaned in closer to the intercom, swaying a little as I pressed my finger down firmly on the button. Enunciating as clearly as I could, I said “No.”
Proud of myself for having made the right decision, I was about to turn away and get back to the lounger and my whiskey when her voice crackled through the intercom again, so sweet and pure. It was like a siren’s call to me.
“I just want to see you, Jeremiah. Make sure you’re okay. It’s been a rough week and I...” She trailed off. I could picture her so clearly in my mind’s eye, the way her eyes would be intently focused on the buzzer as she thought. “I need to see you. I need… You.”
The last few words threw me off my game, made me falter in my certainty. “You need me?”
“Yes,” she said, as clearly as my “No” had been and with as little hesitation.
Dropping my forehead to my hand on the wall, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady myself. If I let Stephanie up, I was sure to lose her before I even really had her. On the other hand, she needed me. If I didn’t let her up after she told me that, I’d probably lose her anyway. I would definitely lose her respect.
Catch-22. Nausea got a grip on my stomach from my eyes being closed, and I quickly opened them again, just as I felt that grip turn into a hook that would’ve turned ugly in less than a minute.
“Jer, are you there?”
My finger grew heavy, pressing down on the button almost by itself. “I’m here.”
Her voice was soft, gentle. “You going to let me up?”
“I’m thinking about it,” I said, wondering which way of losing her was the lesser of the two evils. Letting her up and seeing me as such a wreck, or not letting her up and having her go back to thinking I was an unfeeling, uncaring, arrogant bastard with more money than brain cells who still played hit-it-and-quit-it with every woman he came into contact with.
A bitter feeling spread through my chest. My dad already thought I was that guy. As did most of the people who had ever heard my name. For some reason I would never understand, Stephanie saw through that guy. That guise.
She saw through it, then she reached in and brought the guy inside out. Challenged him and demanded better from him, making me feel like I could be that version of myself all the time. Like maybe I was that guy already.
Without saying another word or trying to talk myself out of it anymore, I buzzed Stephanie in. There wasn’t really an alternative. I couldn’t bear to see her looking at me again like she had after that lunchtime incident after her first interview. I couldn’t stand the thought of her thinking I was the guy my father was convinced I was.
Having him look at me with disappointment and thinly veiled disgust was enough. I wouldn’t let Stephanie do the same, though she might anyway once she saw the state I was in.
But then at least she wouldn’t think I left her literally standing out in the cold after she told me she needed me, wouldn’t think I was that callous or unfeeling or immature.
The lock on my door clicked as I unlocked it for her, then went to wait for Stephanie on the couch with a replenished glass of whiskey in hand. A tiny, decanted one again. Not the whole bottle. I was counting it as a win.