The bloodlust died out of his eyes and he shuffled his feet. “Ellie, I hate to bother you when your heart is broken and all—”
“It’s not broken!”
“—but I don’t know if my father will let me in the house,” Robbie said, ignoring her interruption. “I have a friend who’s going out of town and he said I could stay at his place starting tomorrow. But tonight…”
“You’re welcome to stay with me,” she said. “Martina’s going to be gone—I’m sure she won’t mind if you use her room.”
“Thanks, El—you’re the best. Oh, and one more thing. I have a friend—another friend. He wants to be an artist. He’s really talented…”
Ellie’s heart sank a little. “Did you meet this friend in prison?”
“Yeah, he got busted for some pyramid scheme. But he’s completely reformed—he’s a real smart guy. He’s taken every mailorder course there is. If you ever need an undertaker, a minister or a lawyer, he’s your man.”
“Uh, exactly how long has he been in prison?”
“Not that long. The thing is, he’s decided he really wants to be an artist. You think you could take a look at his stuff?”
“Sure,” she said listlessly. “Have him bring by some samples of his work tomorrow.”
“Thanks, El. I owe you one. Say, could you give me the key to your apartment?”
She handed over the key, and he gave her a casual hug. “Thanks again, El. Oh, and listen. If you need any help, if you want me to punch your boyfriend’s lights out or something, you let me know.”
“I will,” she told him, touched in spite of herself.
Once he was gone, she sank slowly back into her chair, imagining a confrontation between the two men—Garek getting beat up and Robbie being hauled back to jail.
She hoped she never saw Garek again. But even more, she hoped he and Robbie never met.
Ellie was sitting on her couch that evening, across from Robbie and his friend Caspar, when the phone rang. Trying to ignore it, she pretended to study Caspar’s painting.
Caspar hadn’t been able to wait until tomorrow to show Ellie his work, so Robbie had invited him to come over. Caspar seemed nice enough—he was a tall, thin young man with lank brown hair and a skittish gaze—but Ellie hadn’t been too thrilled to find him in her apartment when she arrived home. His paintings held even less to thrill her. His bland landscapes did little to distract her from the shrill ringing of the telephone. Was it her imagination or did the phone actually sound angry?
“Ellie? Ellie? Are you there?” The harsh voice coming from the answering machine definitely sounded angry. “Pick up the phone, Ellie, or I’m coming over…”
Becoming angry herself, Ellie stalked over to the phone on the kitchen wall and snatched up the receiver. “I can’t talk right now,” she snapped. “What do you want?”
“What do you think I want?” he snarled. “I want an explanation of that message you left on my phone.”
“I don’t care what you want—” Seeing Robbie and Caspar eavesdropping with blatant interest, she hunched her shoulders and turned her back to them. “I don’t want to go out with you anymore, you snake,” she hissed, adding a few improvements to the calm, cool message she’d left earlier. “I don’t ever want to see you again, you miserable excuse for a human being. Which part don’t you understand?”
“Oh, I understand you’re upset about something. I just don’t understand what.”
“I had a little visit from your sister today. Let’s just say that she opened my eyes as to your true character.”
There was a long silence. Then, his voice grim, he said, “I’m coming up.”
“Coming up? What do you mean?” She ran over to the window and saw him getting out of his car, cell phone in hand. “No! You can’t—”
The line went dead. She saw him put the phone in his pocket and start up the stairs.
Panic assailed her. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to talk to him. She wanted to hide. She’d get Robbie to tell him to go away…
Robbie!
Oh, dear heaven. There was no predicting how Robbie would behave.
The doorbell rang.