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Something tingles deep inside of me when I think that maybe, just maybe, he bought the bed with intention of using it with me.
He and his business partner Jagger carry the mattress inside, and I decide to sit on the bench across the road and wait for them to come out and get the box spring. When they do, I see Angelo look around then shake his head before grabbing the box spring and carrying it inside.
Time passes slowly as I wait until what I feel like enough time has passed for me to go up. I take a deep breath and stand on shaky legs, which doesn’t mix well with heels, but I somehow manage to walk across the road without dropping the bag of food in my arms or falling over.
When I get to the door, the lights turn out and Jagger and his wife walk out.
“Oh, hey,” Tatiana says.
“Hi. I um...” I close my eyes and sigh.
Jagger chuckles. “Go on in; he’s upstairs. Just lock the door behind you before heading up.”
“Yeah, of course,” I say as my confidence slowly fades.
Tatiana grabs my elbow and gives it a squeeze. “See you tomorrow for class?”
I nod. “Yes, of course. Sure.”
Once I close the door, I look up to see Jagger making a twisting motion with his hand, telling me to lock the door. I nod and do just that. Then, feeling brave, I walk across the gym floor and to the door that leads to the stairway to his apartment. When he doesn’t answer after I knock, I twist the handle and find it unlocked.
Walking up the stairs, I hear power tools. Now I understand why he didn’t hear me.
At the top, I wait until the sound stops before I knock again.
When the door flies open, he is standing there, looking down at me in confusion. I hold up the takeout bag in explanation, but he still stands in front of me, looking stunned, lost. He doesn’t say a word until I carefully balance everything and reach in the bag, pulling out the book.
“This really isn’t a good time,” he whispers.
“We got company?” I hear a voice from inside say.
“No,” he says over his shoulder then looks back at me. “I mean, yes.” He pulls the door open wider, and I see the young man from the gym standing in shorts and no shirt.
“Well, aren’t you being unhospitable.” He smirks at Angelo. “Come on in, lady with the bag of something delicious.”
“Watch it,” Angelo sneers at him.
Knowing that, if I don’t make a move, he’s going to ask me to leave, I take the last step up, forcing him to step back. Then I walk past him and set the bag on his kitchen counter, seeing the bed set up in the corner of the room.
“You bought a bed.” I nod in its direction.
“Buck needed a place to sleep,” he says, looking at me peculiarly.
“So, the bed’s mine?” The young man he calls Buck laughs.
“No, the mattress on the floor is yours; that’s mine.” He raises an eyebrow at Buck.
“Bed’s big enough for two. We could snuggle and shit,” Buck ribs him.
“Not likely,” he says, looking back at me.
There is an uncomfortable silence that needs to end, so I do just that.
“Well, I brought dinner. Italian, just like you asked.” I take the containers out of the bag and set them out.
“Dinner for two?” Buck asks.
“No, of course not. There is plenty for three.”
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Buck says, goading Angelo.
Angelo sighs heavily as he walks toward the door. “Set it up. I’ll be back.”
“Where you going?” Buck asks. “And more importantly, how much time do me and the lady have alone?”
“You feel like getting your ass kicked tonight?” Angelo asks, throwing on a hoodie.
“Pft,” Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“Keep being disrespectful, and it’s a damn guarantee,” Angelo says before starting down the stairs.
“Well”—I smile—“are there any plates around here?”
“Smells delicious,” Buck says, grabbing a t-shirt and putting it on.
“It’s from a place just down the block; Caldwell’s bar. They do dinner takeout nightly.”
He laughs. “Jagger’s brother owns the place. Hendrix and his pregnant wife Livi.”
“Small world.” I smile. “So, do you get along with them as well as you do Jagger?”
“Jagger’s a dick. Thinks he knows everything.” He grabs some paper plates from the cupboard beside the sink.
I shrug. “Seems like a nice enough guy.”
“Yeah, to everyone but me,” he says with sadness in his voice.
“Maybe you should try harder.”
He stops and looks at me, face draining of emotion. “Maybe he should.”
I nod. “Maybe.”
“Be the good; that’s what he preaches. Inked up to high heaven with his momma’s legacy shit. Thinks his shit doesn’t stink because his mom and old man lived together. You know, better than the rest of us type of attitude. From what I hear tell, his old man beat the ever-living shit out of his mom, and she was stupid for not leaving his sorry ass. But, hey, her boys seem pretty fucking set, so maybe it pays to be a drunk’s whore.”
