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„I think you should bring them to a vet,” I suggest. „To check if they’re okay. Who knows how long they had to stay out in the cold.”
„Yes, I will do that.”
By now his pace is so fast that he’s almost running, despite carrying both of the cat carriers by himself. The man in suit and sunglasses has been walking quietly next to him, but now sprints forward to open the gate for him to walk through.
„Is that your bodyguard?” I ask.
He laughs. „Why would I have a bodyguard?”
„I don’t know, he looks like one.”
„That’s Alexander, my personal assistant and driver.”
„Oh, okay.” I knew that university professors were paid well, but this well? Who can afford to have his own driver?
„You shouldn’t be speaking to me,” he says, as we’re about to reach the gate. He’s speaking in a whisper, which makes me think that he doesn’t want his assistant to hear our conversation.
„What’s so bad about speaking? You can’t ignore me for the entire semester, we’re working together, remember?” I tell him—and he frowns at me.
„I’m serious,” I insist. „Why do we have to act like we don’t know each other? This is ridiculous…”
My voice trails off when we walk through the gate, and I notice something that sends a cold wave of shock down my spine.
„Fuck,” I hiss, before I can stop myself, and I halt dead in my tracks.
He stops, too, and looks at me, before his eyes follow mine.
„My…my bike,” I utter, as I slowly walk over to the lamppost where I locked my bike when I got here. I usually lock it on the premises of the cat rescue, but the gate was closed when I arrived this morning, and I was too lazy to handle the whole operation of unlocking it and maneuvering my bike through the small gate. It’s obviously safer to bring the bike into the shelter, but I’ve locked it out here a million times before without anything happening to it.
Until today. Because my bike is gone.
„No!” I cry out. „No, no, no!”
I was dumb enough to lock it around the front tire, against my better judgment—and that decision is now taking its toll. I have a good and sturdy lock, but that doesn’t matter when a thief is smart enough to just remove the front tire and take the rest of the bike home with him.
Professor Jones hands the cat carriers to his assistant before following me over to the lonely tire.
„Nooo!” I cry out again with my arms in the air. „I can’t fucking believe this!”
„What the hell is the matter?” he asks.
Much to my surprise, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me back, so I’m forced to look at him. Honest concern is written across his expression, as he leans down to study my face.
„Tell me,” he probes.
„My bike,” I wail, as I coil out of his grip. „It’s gone! Someone stole my bike!”
A deep frown appears on his face when he looks at the single tire that’s tied to a lamp post.
„You left it out here? Like that?” He asks as he points in the direction of the tire.
„I-I-I didn’t think it would…” I stutter, before my voice breaks. Tears are dwelling in my eyes, and I don’t want him to see me crying about this. I don’t want him to think of me as a little whiny baby.
But it’s too late. He noticed. I can tell in the way his eyes widen, as he takes a step back. He looks back and forth between me and the tire before he turns around to his assistant, who is still standing on the sidewalk with both of the cat carriers in his hands.
„How are you getting home?”
His question catches me off guard, and I shrug. „I don’t know, the bus I suppose.”
