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“Not like this.”
She tilts her head. “Oh.”
I extend my hand and offer her purse. I have a feeling this one is going to bite.
“So you used me then?”
I don’t answer. If no response is better than any you might give, that’s how you know to keep your mouth shut.
Suddenly, she’s out of bed and next thing I know she is throwing her clothes on, and I am reminded of what a woman looks like when she’s angry. It should make me happy because it means I’m one step closer to getting her out of my apartment, but something flickers in me, and I know what that feeling is. It’s a memory threatening to break free.
“Really? You’re not even going to offer me breakfast…coffee…nothing?”
“I’m late,” I remind her. I watch as she dresses. She’ll do well for herself.
“I can’t believe this,” she mutters under her breath. She repeats the sentiment at least three times in the excessively long duration it takes to pull on her clothes.
When she’s finally dressed, I gently place my hand on the small of her back and lead her to the entryway. She doesn’t move away from my touch. She should be repulsed. She still thinks I’m going to change my mind.
“It was a pleasure,” I say, opening the door. I hold it open wide. “Take care.”
“What. In. The. Serious. Fuck,” she huffs.
I open it wider. I don’t think it will go any further.
Jenny shakes her head. “You are seriously kidding me. This has to be a joke.”
If it is, then I missed the punch line. I glance down at my watch and will her out with my mind.
Thankfully, it works.
But when she stops and she turns, I hold my breath. “You weren’t even good in bed!”
“I’m sorry for that,” I offer before moving to close the door. I’m careful. I take it easy, slow at first. She could be the ninja type—the kind that pops back in, just for one more insult, like a jack-in-the-box. I’ve learned the hard way.
Her eyes meet mine. She holds my gaze but she doesn’t pop back in. She waits until the door is closed, and then she pounds on it with her fists.
The expletives are impressive. Like she’s practiced.
It goes on for five solid minutes. At least.
I place my head in my hands. The insults keep coming. Motherfucker.
Later, after building security has cleared the deck and I’ve showered and dressed for work, I’m standing in the hall, locking my door, when I hear my name. There’s still a part of me that half-expects Jenny to pop around the corner. Stranger things have happened. Only when I turn, it isn’t the blonde from the bar. It’s my neighbor, Mrs. Dunn.
No. No. No. I brace myself. She is the last thing I need right now. I know what’s coming, and I can see by her expression that she’s well prepared for the opportunity.
“Mrs. Dunn.” I nod.
“This has to stop.”
“You’re right.” I hold my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.”
She stammers. Just barely. “I realize a man of your age likes things a certain way. But this can’t go on.”
“I—”
“This is the third time this month I’ve had to contact security.”
