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“I am.” Astrid squeezed through the opening between the doorframe and Mrs. Duffy, planting her back against the wall of Mrs. Duffy’s living room. “Please, close the door.”
The other woman didn’t seem to be the least bit out of sorts that Astrid had barged into her apartment. Instead, she almost looked intrigued. Honestly, Astrid wasn’t sure if being an object of Mrs. Duffy’s curiosity was better or worse than being a target of her acidic tongue, but if it kept her hidden from Cal, she could take it.
“You didn’t take out a loan from Mikey, did you?” Mrs. Duffy asked just as Jada and Cal hit their floor, judging by the sound of their voices.
Astrid shook her head but didn’t say anything because she couldn’t risk Cal overhearing her.
The old woman pursed her lips and took a step out into the hallway.
“First floor down, Rufus. You’re almost there,” Jada said as they got closer to the open door. “Mr. Matsen is just helping, Rufus. Why did you start growling like that? Oh—” The teenager’s voice sank with dread. “Hi, Mrs. Duffy.”
“Is it just you two making all this racket?” the older woman asked, wrinkling her nose with irritation. “I would have sworn there was a parade coming. I see I’ll need to talk to your moth—”
“No parade,” Cal said, cutting her off before she could finish the threat. “It’s just us.”
“I see.” Mrs. Duffy slid a sideways glance at Astrid. “I definitely see.”
She stood in the doorway as Jada and Cal walked past. Astrid held her breath, listening to their footsteps fade away. Then all the air in her lungs came out in a giant whoosh. When she glanced over, Mrs. Duffy was watching her like she was a defenseless bunny out in the open and the older woman was a fox about to pounce. Astrid had to get out of here, now.
She stepped away from the wall and edged toward the door. “I’m sorr—”
“Oh, can the fake apology.” Mrs. Duffy moved with surprising alacrity to block her path. “Tell me why you’re hiding from that man.”
For someone with glasses thicker than the bottom of a pint glass, the old woman sure saw a lot.
“Maybe I’m scared of dogs,” Astrid said, her nerves settling now that Cal was out of sight.
“Yeah, and maybe my bunions will all disappear overnight,” Mrs. Duffy shot back with a snarl. “Spill it.”
Like she was going to tell the meanest person in the building anything.
Astrid pulled herself up to her full height, which put her eye-to-eye with the older woman, and matched her glare. “There’s nothing to spill.”
Mrs. Duffy pushed up her oversize, round glasses with one knobby finger and made it out into the hallway faster than Astrid had ever seen her move—especially that time she was carrying three grocery bags at once up the stairs and the old woman swerved into her path every time Astrid made a move to pass.
“Young man!” Mrs. Duffy hollered up the stairs. “Come on down here so I can talk to you.”
Astrid’s bones left her body. No, not the air in her lungs, her bones, the ones that made standing upright possible because she slid down Mrs. Duffy’s pale pink living room wall until her ass was on the ground.
“Hurry up,” Mrs. Duffy yelled.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cal grumbled, his voice sounding nowhere close to being far enough away.
“Mrs. Duffy!” Astrid hissed as she fanned her suddenly way-too-hot face.
The old woman shrugged her bony shoulders. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I might as well ask him.”
Astrid gasped.
This was blackmail.
She was being blackmailed by the building bully.
There was no way she was going to put up with this. The old bag could take her nastiness and—
“You wanted to talk to me?” Cal asked from the other side of the door.
He stood at the wrong angle to spot her but was close enough that Astrid could see the tips of his shoes as she tried to become one with the paint.
