Saving Della Ray

“I have a taxi waiting.”

I closed the door and hopped past him into it. Climbing into the backseat, I scooted along to the other side to make space for him. I wanted to reach out and help him get into the car, but I didn’t know where not to touch, so I just leaned back and let him figure his own way into the cab.

He was soon inside and we were on our way. Taking my phone out, I sent a message to Nichole telling her I had left with Bone and would go straight to work after being with him. Then I put my seatbelt on and buckled in for the ride. He seemed content not to speak and just sat quietly next to me so the ride passed with me looking out of the window and him laying his head against the headrest with his eyes closed.

He lived in Paddock Villas.

As the taxi pulled up in front of the apartment block I turned my gaze to his face, his eyes were still shut, the corners slightly tightened, perhaps in pain and his mouth tightened and pale.

He was beautiful, and I did feel like I had literally been set on fire when he touched me, but was it worth all this? Was Nichole right in that all I did was attract trouble?

Completely aware, he immediately opened his eyes, paid the fare and turned to me. “I’ll be right back. I’ll get you something from the house.”

“Oh, okay,” I said confused by the request.

“I’ll be just a few minutes,” he said to the cab driver. He slammed the door shut and walked away quickly.

I was left in the silence of the bright yellow Sedan and to the stolen glances of the aged ginger-haired taxi-driver.

“You two dating?” he eventually asked.

“Uh, no,” was my response. I wondered why he was curious.

“Good. A nice girl like you shouldn’t mix with scum like that,” he commented.

“Actually, you’ve been paid so you can go now.” I pulled the handle, got out of the vehicle, and he sped off in a huff.

Two minutes later, the hunk I had come with, resurfaced, a pair of huge black sneakers in hand. He placed them on the ground in front of me.

I laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I like walking around barefoot in summer. Anyway, I have a pair of shoes in my bag. How did you imagine I was going to work later?”

“Makes sense,” he said quietly.

We walked together towards his apartments. Taking the stairs, we arrived on the second floor and walked along the balcony until I was ushered into an apartment, an apartment that was very sparsely furnished.

A black leather sofa in front of a television, and not much else. It was open plan, so I could see right through to the kitchen. There was a large two door refrigerator, but no dining table. I watched as he went ahead into the kitchen.

“I’ll order some food in,” he said to me.

My nerves immediately tightened. “Uh, why don’t I go get you some groceries? I didn’t come all the way over here just to lounge around and eat some free food.” I had tried to make it all sound light and amusing.

There was absolutely no trace of humor on his face as he asked, “What if you bail on me?”

“If I was going to do that I would have never agreed to come in the first place,” I answered, and as I said the words, I realized that I meant it.

He nodded. “I’m still surprised that you did.”

“Well,” I replied. “That makes two of us. I have less than an hour so let me put it to good use. What can I help you with?” His regard made me squirm with discomfort. Something about the way he looked at me made me feel completely stripped down and exposed, and that severely bothered me because I wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

“Nothing,” he replied slowly.

I blinked.

He ran his fingers through his hair then, his breathing heavy as he briefly glanced away. “I want to lie down. Would you stay by my side?” When I just stared on, he added. “I’ll order something in so you can eat, at least. I can’t send you off to work on an empty stomach.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What do you feel like?”

I shrugged. “Perhaps pizza?”

He nodded in agreement. “I’m getting ham and pepperoni, what do you want?”

“Ham and pineapple, please.”

He winced.

“What?” I demanded immediately.

He wouldn’t be drawn. “Nothing.” He placed the order and ended the call.

“Do you at least need help taking off your boots? There are a lot of laces there.”

He glanced down at them, then back up to me, a ghost of a smile on his tired face. “They have zippers,” he confessed.

I was taken aback. “You lied to me?”