Wary but amused, I wait with a raised eyebrow.
“Libby’s school play is coming up and I promised to help her sell some tickets.”
My grin widens, and I laugh as I pick up my coffee cup. Libby’s even more dramatic than her big sister. “Is this the one she has a lead role in?”
“Yup.” She presses her hands together in prayer. “Please come.”
“Of course I will.”
“I swear, these kids are so good. You won’t think they’re high school performers.”
I laugh even harder. “You can stop with the hard sell. I already said I’ll go.”
She squeezes her hands together and squees like she’s closer to her sister’s age than mine. “I’ll buy the tickets. I just need bodies in the seats.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Maybe,” she sing-songs with a wicked glint in her eyes, “you can bring your boyfriend so I can check him out.”
“Oh my God.” I drop my forehead to the table. “I can’t ask him to do that.”
“Why not? It’s a fun date,” she says with a hint of snark in her voice. “You can tell stories for years to come about how you fell in love during Johnsonville High’s stirring performance of Peter and the Star Catcher.”
“What’s it about?”
“A boy who won’t grow up.”
“Great,” I groan.
My phone buzzes, and I flip it over and catch the time. Shoot, it’s almost time to go back to work. A text pops up.
Grayson: Thinking of you. Hope you’re having a good day.
“Is it him?” Emily cranes her neck to peer at my phone.
“Yes.” I spin it around before she breaks something and let her read the note.
“Aw. He’s direct but sweet.”
“That’s how I’d describe him.”
She jumps out of her chair and skirts the table, leaning in to wrap me up in a fierce hug. “Remember, fear imprisons us. Maybe not behind bars. But it cripples.”
I sigh and hug her back. “I know all about that.”
“I know you do, sweetie.” She pulls away and returns to her chair. “Be smart, go into this with your eyes open, but don’t let fear rule your life.”
Chapter Seventeen
Grinder
“A school play?” I’m too shocked and amused to think of another response.
On the other end of the phone, Serena sighs. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry—”
“No, no.” Anything sounds good, as long as I’m not rotting away in a cell. Sitting next to Serena all night sounds damn near close to heaven. “I’ll go with you.”
“Really?”
“Just tell me where and when.”
I hadn’t been thrilled the night I followed her home and found out she lives in one of the shittiest areas of Empire. Not the cutesy rundown look of the historic brownstones near the capitol building. No, these are the seriously rundown brownstones on the outskirts of the city. Hers is the nicest building on the block but it’s kinda like saying the fifth circle of hell is cooler than the seventh. You’re still in hell.
I park in front of her building and send her a text to let her know I’m coming up.
Serena: Second floor.
Well, I guess that’s better than the first, where anyone could crawl in the street-level window.
Front door’s busted and hanging ajar. Great security. Looks like there’s an intercom. Doubt it’s worked since the Seventies. At least there are no names on the mailboxes to advertise to the world she’s a woman living alone.
I push my way inside and stare at the long, dark wooden staircase, then the rest of the area. Looks like two apartments down here. The lighting is so dim Serena wouldn’t have a chance of seeing someone waiting for her until it was too late.
This ain’t right.
At least the stairs are sturdy and in good shape. The ancient tiles on the second-floor landing have seen better days. So dirty it’s hard to tell if they’re supposed to be white or brown. There’s only one door on this floor.
I knock.
“Hang on!” she shouts from inside.
A click and slide later, she opens the door wide.
Fuck, that smile.
To see me.
All mine.
“Hi!” She smiles wide and waves me inside with one hand while fussing with an earring with the other.
I scoop her into my arms and press my lips to hers. She lets out a soft sound of surprise, but recovers fast. Wrapping her arms around me, she clings tight while I kick the door closed.
“I missed you, buttercup. Been a rough week,” I say, then take another taste. Haven’t even seen what she’s wearing yet. Feels like a dress. I turn and pin her to the door, hiking the fabric up her legs, skimming my fingers over the thin netting covering her thighs.
Using me for leverage, she raises her legs, wrapping them around my waist, drawing me close to her center.
“That’s right,” I whisper against her lips.
“Gray.” Her voice is raw and desperate. “Please.”
“What?” My hands reach her hips under her dress. Pantyhose? Whatever’s in my way feels thin and easy to rip. I pull away, staring at her flushed cheeks and smeared lipstick. I swipe a hand across my mouth and come away with red-stained fingers.