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“This is Remy,” Carmine muttered, pointing at him. “And this is . . .” He hesitated. He didn’t even know the other guy’s name.
“I know who they are,” Corrado said tersely.
“Mr. Moretti, sir,” Remy said. “Great club you have here.”
Corrado nodded, but offered no response to the compliment.
“We were just getting a drink,” Carmine slurred. “You know . . . or two.”
“I see that,” he said. “You guys just be careful getting home.”
“Yes, sir,” Remy said. “Thank you.”
Corrado’s eyes lingered on Carmine for a moment before he walked away, disappearing down the hallway.
Remy shook his head, gulping the last of his drink. “Man, he’s intense as fuck.”
Carmine laughed bitterly. “You’re telling me.”
* * *
Thump. Crash. “Shit!”
Haven’s eyes shot open at once at the noise. Disoriented, she stared at the low ceiling above her bed, surveying the textured white paint as if it could somehow tell her what happened. Sunlight streamed in the small window across the room, sweeping across the faded wooden floor. It was warm, almost peaceful, and all was silent for a long moment.
Had she imagined it?
She started to close her eyes again when another bang rang out. Following it was the clicking sound of high heels against wood, accompanying a woman’s frustrated growl. Confused, Haven’s stomach twisted as she threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. She walked through the apartment at the same time the high heels started along the floor above her, following her direction as they made their way to the staircase.
Quietly, Haven unlocked her front door and peeked out as the woman started down the stairs. She was tall and curvy, her long hair an unnatural burgundy shade. She lugged two empty cardboard boxes with her and dropped them in the small foyer right outside of Haven’s door.
Haven didn’t want to be caught spying, but the woman saw her before she could slip back away.
“Hey there!” she said enthusiastically. “I’m Kelsey.”
“Hav—uh, den.” She cleared her throat. “Hayden.”
“Do you live here, Hayden?” Kelsey asked, pausing to take a breath but not long enough for Haven to actually answer. “Thank God you’re a she and not a he. I was totally convinced I was going to be living above some creepy bald dude with a potbelly who smelled like beef jerky and cheap beer. Yuck. Could you imagine? Ugh, I bet you were worried about the same thing, some pervert tromping through here all day and night. Am I right?”
Haven smiled timidly. She hadn’t even considered it. The thought of someone moving into the vacant second floor never crossed her mind. She had assumed Corrado rented the entire building.
“So what do you do?” Kelsey asked, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Are you a student or something?”
“Uh, yes,” she replied. “I go to the School of Visual Arts.”
Kelsey’s eyes widened. “No shit? Me too!”
Haven was taken aback. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Kelsey said. “I’m majoring in graphic design. You?”
“Painting.”
“Fine arts? Ugh, I could never do that.” Kelsey waved her off dismissively. “So have you gone to orientation yet?”
“No.” Haven frowned. She had been putting it off, her nerves getting the best of her. “I should probably do that, though.”
“Totally,” Kelsey said. “I was about to head over there myself. We can go together! Everyone needs a walking buddy, right?”
