Page 2 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

“You need a hand to your apartment?”

Clementine froze. She didn’t know that voice or the purple hair that was as bright as the smile directed at her. “I’m good. Just a twisted ankle.”

“I twist my ankle all the time,” the woman said, oblivious to Clementine’s brush off. “The right one. How I have any ligaments left is beyond me. I have some frozen peas in my place, if you need. And Advil…but I should maybe introduce myself before I give you pills.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Jenny. New neighbor in 2B.”

Clementine gave Jenny’s hand a reluctant shake. “I’m Amy.”

An easy, forgettable alias.

Aside from occasional lunches and dinners with Lucien, Clementine kept to herself. Being on her own was safe. She was consistent. She didn’t even know a neighbor had moved out.

Jenny slung her arm around Clementine’s waist. “At least let me help you to your door. 2C, I assume?”

She nodded, preferring silence. Jenny, however, liked the sound of her own voice. In the span of nine steps, Clementine learned she’d just moved here from LA and was a vegan hairstylist who planned to open her own salon. “A few friends moved here last year,” she said. “They loved it so much, I decided what the hell. Life is short, right? Anyway, they’re stopping over for drinks tomorrow. You should come.”

“I don’t think so.”

“If you have plans, you can bring a friend.”

“I’m going out.”

“You can come by after.”

This girl was more tenacious than that damn pit bull, and Clementine’s mind drifted back to Ned’s framed photographs. Friends and family. Things Clementine didn’t have.

“I’ll play it by ear,” she said. A lie she wished was the truth.

“Awesome.” Jenny fished a card from her pocket and held it out. “Text me if you can make it. And if you need to trim that stunning hair, I’m your gal.”

Clementine smiled politely and escaped to her apartment, but her heart was doing some sort of erratic calisthenics. A messed-up ankle and a new nosy neighbor. This had turned into one hell of a night.

She dropped Jenny’s card on her kitchen counter and limped to Lucy’s terrarium. “How’s my girl?”

Lucy stared at her favorite piece of wood.

“That good, huh?” Clementine reached in and pulled out her bearded dragon. Maybe sitting on the couch with Lucy would settle her overactive pulse. It didn’t.

She surveyed her small but neat-ish apartment, simple with its Ikea essentials. Aside from spending cash on her beast of a car, Clementine only needed enough money to live on. Spreading the remainder around local charities and orphanages in developing countries fueled her drive to make a difference, to help those the system had let down, and make sure others didn’t suffer the way she had. What it didn’t do was keep her from picturing her apartment filled with friends, their laughter as lively as Jenny’s purple hair.

The few times she’d made an effort with strangers, she’d broken out in cold sweats. Asking others questions meant they reciprocated. What’s your name? What do you do? Where are you from? Lying on the job was one thing. Lying to potential friends made Clementine feel like a ghost. A non-person.

She stroked Lucy’s back. Her bearded dragon pancaked her belly on Clementine’s palm and closed her eyes. Her version of a cat’s purr. “What should we do tomorrow, girl?”

No answer, of course. That never stopped Clementine from talking to her pet just to use her vocal cords. At this rate, she’d be jabbering to herself on street corners by forty, or she’d become one of those women whose body was discovered weeks or months after time of death, wedged between stacks of newspapers, her leg half eaten by pet reptiles.

She glanced at her kitchen counter and eyed Jenny’s business card.

Maybe one night of socializing wouldn’t be so bad.

She could go over for a quick visit, after her supposed “plans.” Not linger too long. Drink wine and gossip about celebrities, or do whatever it was women did. They probably wouldn’t want to hear about her bearded dragon or the car engine she’d finished rebuilding, and she couldn’t talk about her illegal philanthropic work, but it could be fun to feel normal for a minute.

She returned Lucy to her terrarium and grabbed Jenny’s card. Before overthinking, she sent her a quick text.

Clementine: It’s your neighbor Amy. Thanks for the invite. I’ll stop by at ten.

Now she couldn’t back out. She’d force herself to be a non-ghost.

Hopefully the decision wouldn’t bite her in the ass.