Things have become more complicated with Alexis. I never expected our first meeting to turn into a friendship so quickly, one where we speak on the phone almost every day, where we text constantly.
I had started to forget how great it was, having a friend.
Bang-bang-bang.
“I’m not going anywhere until you open this door.”
“Mr. Reynolds, I’m sorry, but if you keep behaving like this I’ll be forced to call the police.”
“Oooh.” He laughs coldly. “How long do you think it’d take them to get out here, eh? Don’t forget what part of town we’re in, girlie.”
I cringe at the word.
Girlie.
It makes me want to throw something at the door.
Taking a breath, I steady my voice. “I didn’t break the elevator.”
“Then explain all the jabbing.”
“Jesus Christ,” I snap. “I was just checking. It was already broken. It’s been broken for weeks. I’m sorry, but are you on drugs or something? You’re acting crazy.”
“I fixed it two days ago. And then, hey presto, you come along and start messing with it. Now it’s broken again.”
“I don’t remember it being fixed.”
“Well, maybe you should pay better attention. Are you going to open the door or not?”
“No, I won’t. Please—”
He hammers his fist against the door again.
I groan and march to the opposite end of the apartment, rubbing my hand up and down my arm, thoughts scattering as I try to work out what to do, how to handle this.
Dropping onto the bed, I think of Lisa. She’d know what to say. She’d beat him with kindness. She always found a way to make even the most infuriating, annoying people like her.
The banging continues and I close my eyes, counting the seconds until Triston gets here.
I have to remember. He’s not coming because he wants to protect me specifically. He’s not coming because we share a bond, or we’re going to share a future or anything like that.
He’s coming because I’m friends with his daughter.
That’s all.
Bang-bang-bang.
I grab a pillow and press it against my face, screaming as loudly as I can, until my vocal cords strain and I feel the veins rising in my neck.
Finally, the hammering stops. I hear raised voices.
Standing, I walk across the apartment and crack open the front door.
Mr. Reynolds stands side-on, wavering slightly on the spot, telling me I was right when I guessed he’d been drinking. He’s a tall man, wide, with a shaved head and a sleeve of tattoos on one of his hairy arms.
Triston is taller, wider, more muscular. He glares down at my landlord like he’s ready to snap his neck.
I’ve never seen such rage, even though it’s contained behind his steely blue eyes.
Alexis glances at me, smiling softly. All I can do is nod back.
“So what’s the issue?” Triston snaps.
“The issue is…” My. Reynolds points a trembling finger toward me. “She broke the elevator and she owes me eight hundred bucks.”
“Right.” Triston grits his teeth. “And how did you figure that out?”
“I saw her jabbing the button.”
Triston takes a step forward, looming over the man, his chest heaving. My body does inappropriate things, considering the circumstances, considering Alexis is standing right there.
My panties brush against my sex, my clit growing hot, Triston's passion causing my body to tingle and buzz.
“Jabbing the button,” Triston repeats darkly.
“Yeah, I didn’t stutter,” Mr. Reynolds growls.
“You didn’t stutter. But you are slurring your fucking words.” Triston takes a step forward, glaring down at my landlord. “You know what I think? You went out on a bender last night. And maybe you want to keep the ‘fun’ going or maybe you owe someone money. Whatever the reason, you think you can intimidate an innocent woman into paying you for some made-up bullshit about an elevator. Am I close?”
Mr. Reynolds opens his mouth, staring dumbly at Triston.
Triston steps even closer, so close now he could grab Mr. Reynolds by the shoulders and throw him down the hallway. That’s exactly what it looks like he wants to do. His whole body looks like it’s ready to break out of his clothes, his muscles throbbing, his eyes wide and filled with rage.
“Well?” he snaps.
“You don’t understand,” Mr. Reynolds says after a pause. “I just wanted…”
“You’re drunk.” Triston sighs grimly. “And you thought you could shake Tamia down to give you the money. Maybe you thought that now that she’s alone, you can bully her. But let me tell you something, motherfucker.”
Triston takes another step, even closer now, forcing Mr. Reynolds to stumble back. “If you ever pull anything like this again, I won’t be so nice next time. Do I make myself clear?”
Mr. Reynolds opens and closes his mouth, as though he can’t comprehend what’s just happened. He looks at me and then back at Triston, swallowing. “Yes, I understand. It… it won’t happen again.”
“It better fucking not. Now get lost.”
Triston stares at Mr. Reynolds as he turns, trips, and walks away.