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This must be Seth.
His red trucker cap, with a tear at the bill, rests low over his wide forehead. His scruffy brown beard matches the wiry brown hair on his head and the torn overalls with grass and dirt stains at the knees makes him look like a character from a Steinbeck novel.
Of Mice and Men, perhaps.
With the intelligence in his eyes, I deduce he’s more George than Lennie.
“Come on in, man. You’re letting the cold out and the mosquitoes in.”
I do as he asks. Once the door shuts, I face him. “Do you always invite people you don’t know into the home you share with Gen?”
“Naw. But I knew you’d be coming by. Nat told her and then Gen told me.”
Even though I have good intentions (hell, I brought chicken soup after all) I feel like showing up makes me look desperate. Weak.
I don’t like that.
And it’s a damn shame I can’t take it out on her body.
I swallow thickly. Seth notes the movement of my Adam’s apple with an interested grin.
Under his scrutiny, my palms start to sweat. Seth has me under a microscope and I’m all sorts of uncomfortable given that I’ve never had to prove myself to anyone (except Gramps) before.
“Relax, dude. I don’t bite.”
I rake a hand through my hair.Damn nervous habit.“Genesis never told me she was living with anyone.”
Seth chuckles, “Yeah? I guess she only does so when she needs to scare off some dumb-ass who won’t take no for an answer.” He scratches at his scruff and eyes me keenly. Yep, there is definitely intelligence there and more than a bit of protectiveness. “I guess you must not be a dumb-ass, huh?”
It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t bother answering. Instead, I stick out a hand. “I’m Royce, by the way.”
Seth holds out a fist. We bump.
“I figured you were. I’m Seth, man. Glad to meet you.” At my curious look, he laughs. “Don’t look so puzzled, dude.”
“I didn’t give you my name. How did you know it would be me?”
“I clocked you through the peephole. She described you pretty well.”
How well?I wonder.
I won’t ask, so I just stand there grinning and probably looking like a damn fool.
Seth doesn’t enlighten me. Instead, he asks, “Hey man, you wanna beer? I just came in from playing a little touch football and I’m parched. I got some Miller, Shiner Bock, and a couple of Heinekens.”
“A Shiner for me. I heard they’re good.”
Seth lumbers off to the kitchen. I stuff my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels as I look around.
Overall, the apartment seems to be a decent size. The living room runs into the dining room, which is opposite the open kitchen. The appliances are of medium grade. A granite countertop that is gray and white goes well with the light-gray walls. Most of the wooden furniture, along with the sectional couch, looks fairly new.
I like it.
Seth comes back and slaps a cold brown bottle in my hand. We both take a pull. The lager goes down smoothly, with a few bubbles popping in my throat. As I lift my bottle to my lips for another taste, a burst of music (some 70s slow jam), comes from a room down the hall.
“Gen must be out of the shower. Won’t take her long to appear. She doesn’t do a lot of makeup shit.”
I nod again. Gen is as fresh-faced as they come. I’ve never seen her with more than a bit of eyeliner and a touch of lip gloss. I wonder what she would look like if she got a makeover.
