Somehow, I managed to grab onto the frame as I found my footing on the narrow windowsill. Only then did it occur to me that I was totally fucked if I failed to get the window open. I was holding on by my toes and fingertips, without enough traction to propel myself back to the fire escape.
Okay, so the only way out was forward. I could do this. And once I got my stuff and it was time to flee from the apartment,all I’d have to do was remove the dowel and climb through the much easier window. That part was a piece of cake.
I fished my credit card from my pocket and slid it into the gap between the window sashes. The old-fashioned locking mechanism was pretty straightforward. It opened with a half-turn, which moved the catch out from under a metal lip. That was easy to do when you were inside and using your hand, but it didn’t give as I tried to rotate it with the credit card.
I tried tapping it with the edge of the card, and when it didn’t budge I hit it harder. I was steadying myself by grasping the window frame with one hand, and I almost lost my balance. A jolt of fear shot through me. I pressed myself against the window to keep my center of gravity from shifting and sending me off that narrow ledge.
My heart was pounding as I muttered, “Such a dumb way to die,” and tried again with the credit card.
It took longer than I’d anticipated, but eventually the lock gave, rotating just enough for the hasp to clear the lip. I stuck the card back in my pocket and managed to slide the window open a few inches. I used my foot to slide it up a bit more, and then I was finally able to reach down and open it enough to crawl through.
Success! I landed in the creep’s bedroom and crept across the floor. The door was slightly ajar, and when I slipped through it into the hall, I could hear voices coming from the living room. It sounded like a nice, polite conversation, so that was good.
When I reached the hall closet, I opened it slowly and carefully to make sure it didn’t squeak, and there was my stuff. I took a quick peek into the backpack to confirm my journal and photos were still inside it, and then I zipped it up and put it on before wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. Everything I was doing seemed way too loud, even my breathing.
I straightened up and was about to close the closet door, but my amp wasright there. My gross ex-landlord had alreadystolen my security deposit. I didn’t want him to have that too, so I grabbed it with both hands. It was a fairly compact model, maybe eighteen inches square, but its solidly built cabinet probably weighed thirty pounds. This thing had been made to last.
My exit was through my former bedroom, and from its door, there was an unobstructed view of the living room. I’d taken so long trying to open the lock that Kit had finished up and was about to leave. They were standing at the front door, and the creep’s back was to me.
I heard Kit say, “Thanks, but I don’t think this apartment is what I’m looking for.”
He started to open the door, but my ex-landlord pushed it shut again and said, “Don’t rush off. Let’s have a few drinks and get acquainted.”
Kit looked panicked, so I yelled, “Get away from him, you asshole!”
The creep whirled around, and when he saw me, he growled, “You!”
To my horror, he grabbed a sword from the wall and started to run at me. At least that gave Kit a chance to open the door. I shouted, “Run!”
The creep paused for a moment, looking from Kit to me as he hissed, “You sent an accomplice? I’m going to make you regret that!”
He started coming at me again, raising the sword like a baseball bat. I ran toward him, and as he started to swing the big weapon, I dove and slid across the floor, like I was stealing home plate.
The sword was so heavy that the swing threw him off balance. He staggered and tried to regain his footing. This gave me a chance to leap up, tuck the amp under one arm, and run for the front door. Kit was standing there with a stunned expression. Igrabbed his hand and yanked him out the door with me, and both of us sprinted for the stairs.
Fortunately, the creep didn’t think we were worth chasing. He ran onto the landing, cussing at us and threatening to kill us if we ever came back again, while Kit and I thundered down three flights of stairs.
We burst through the main entrance, still hand-in-hand, and ran two blocks before ducking around a corner. I gasped for breath, doubling over as my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest. Kit did the same thing. A few seconds passed before we recovered enough to straighten up and turn to each other.
Instead of saying anything, he held up the startled, taxidermied squirrel, which he’d snatched from the table beside the front door. Both of us started laughing, and I asked, “Why’d you take it?”
“I felt sorry for it. But also, maybe we can hold it for ransom and try to get your security deposit back.”
That made me laugh again. “That’s pretty twisted,” I said, as I shifted the amp and pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I like the way you think.”
“Thank you.”
“Come on, let me buy you dinner. You deserve it after all of that.”
As we started walking, he said, “I see you couldn’t resist saving your amp.”
“I didn’t want that jerk to have it.”
“I get that.”
We returned to the same place, both because Eduardo was holding my guitar and duffle bag for me, and because I knew it was Kit’s favorite restaurant. It was more crowded now, but we were able to get the same booth in the corner and immediately ordered another pitcher of margaritas.
The waiter glanced at the stuffed squirrel, which Kit had placed beside us on the upholstered seat, and asked, “What’s that about?”
