Shit. Nobody can use their fucking eyes it seems. “Move fast, before he reads the backs of our cuts,” I whisper.
We get into the elevator and turn around. Sinner waves as the doors close. Quinn is asleep on her feet as she helps us find her apartment. She blinks at the digital pad next to her door long enough that I’m thinking we’re not gonna get inside, but then slowly taps a code and the lock clicks open. Maybe it makes me an asshole, but I watch as she keys it in, tucking the information away just in case.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Colt says, looking around at the empty box she calls home.
It’s not minimalist. It’s fucking empty.
The main space is the usual open plan everything room. An ultra-modern kitchen separated from the living room by a marble topped island with built-in barstool seating. There’s ahallway towards the back where the bedrooms and bathroom probably are, and a balcony to the side overlooking the city towards the shore. The only furniture is an L-shaped gray couch and a glass coffee table. The only art on the walls are three generic black and white prints arranged together. The Eiffel tower, the Statue of Liberty, and Big Ben.
Quinn looks around like she’s seeing it for the first time. “I… I haven’t been here long.”
“Let’s get you something to drink before you zonk out.” Sinner opens the fridge. “Fucking hell, woman. Did you move in this morning?” There’s a few bottles of water, some yogurt cups and a sad assortment of pre-packaged sandwich toppings. He tosses me one of the waters.
I catch it. “Where’s your room, Quinn?”
She leads the way. It’s as barren as the rest. An air mattress on the floor pushed up against the wall, made up with sheets and a comforter. A couple of paperbacks lie next to the pillow end and there’s a phone charger plugged into the wall. There’s a massive suitcase in the corner and her closet is open, full of clothes. The place is nice, but it looks like she’s fucking squatting in it.
“I really haven’t been here long,” she mutters defensively.
I push her phone into her hand. “Call Erika before she phones the cops.”
Quinn obeys, and manages to drink some of the water before flopping onto the mattress fully clothed and passing out almost immediately. I brush the hair off her face, letting my fingers linger a bit on the softness of her cheek.
“You guys can go if you want, I’m going to stick around in case she wakes up,” I tell Sinner and Colt.
Sinner shakes his head. “Fuck that, I’ll keep you company.”
“It’s a rough neighborhood. Might need backup,” Colt adds with a smirk.
3
Chapter 3 - Quinn
I wakeup feeling like leftover garbage.
How did I get home?
And why am I still wearing my Desdemona outfit?
I didn’t drink that much, did I? I remember the PR party. Meeting Heath and his friends. Sexy friends even. Heath all grown up and looking like a bad idea and a good time rolled together. Calling himself Priest now.
Wait. Did I get his number? God I hope so.
The air mattress sinks dangerously when I sit up, leaving my butt nearly on the floor. I shake my head gently. Instant regret.
Bleh, my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. I need to drink a gallon of water, take a hot shower and brush my teeth, in no particular order.
Peeling my clothes off as I go, I let them stay where they fall like breadcrumbs in a path to the bathroom. Getting free of all thatleather is glorious, like how I bet a butterfly feels breaking out of its cocoon. Even better is when the hot water first hits my face and washes over me. Closing my eyes and tilting my head back, I just stand in the spray holding my toothbrush in one hand while trying to piece the rest of the night together.
My clothes were still firmly in place, and my bed wouldn’t have survived bringing anyone home. Not like I’d dare. It’s been nearly three years since I actually let myself get close to anyone and I still haven’t forgotten that disaster.
Washing my hair takes every last ounce of energy. When I’m done, I lean against the tile and slide down until I’m sitting. It’s far from an everything shower. Nothing gets shaved, clarified, deep conditioned, or exfoliated, but I do manage to brush my teeth while sitting on the shower floor, and eventually stand up and wash off my makeup.
A win is a win. Fortunately I don’t have to be anywhere until the interview with Cliff this afternoon.
I throw on the oversized T-shirt I’ve been wearing to bed, and drag myself out of my room to figure out what I did with my phone. I hope I didn’t leave it at the club or in the car on my way home. That would suck.
I freeze mid hallway. There are boots by the door.
