Dinner is cold by the time we finish fooling around. After, we watch some Netflix and as we circle the staircase for bed, I remember the phone call. “Oh by the way? I found Mrs. Gallo’s husband.”
“Alive?”
“And well. He’s vacationing in the Bahamas.”
“Sorry, honey. I know how much you wanted him dead.” He lowers onto the futon and pulls me down with him.
“Yeah. Them’s the breaks. Maybe next time we’ll have a real murder.” I spoon next to his warm body and he tugs me closer.
“Goodnight, sugar. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I snuggle under the comforter as the subway across the street rumbles me to sleep.
Sometime later, his PTSD alarm screams in the dark. Quickly, I skootch off the mattress, a safe distance away while he thrashes, jumps out of bed and squats with his hands open.
Poised to kill and sleepwalking, he doesn’t see me, so I stay put until he blinks a few times.
“You there?” I hold my Taser behind my back, praying the killer has fallen back into his subconscious mind.
He shakes his head, rubs a hand across his face, then holds his arms open. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“Not even close. The alarm went off but I was ready.”
I show him the weapon. “See?”
“Atta girl.” He hugs me into his warm chest, my ear at his thumping heart.
The clock reads five in the morning and he yawns. “You go back to sleep. Okay? I’m going downstairs.”
Catrina peeks her head into the loft and curls around his legs, purring.
“Yeah, breakfast. I get it.” Suds dresses in a pair of sweats and a hoodie.
Meanwhile, her paws sound on the iron staircase and land on the floor below. Me? I think of catching a few more Z’s until the construction noise starts up again next door.
“Oh my F’N God! What the fuck?” Moaning, I put the pillow over my head but it’s no good. Jackhammers beat feathers any day of the week.
“That’s it! I’m going to find out who owns that company and shut them down.”
“What did you say, Sam? Can’t hear you.”
“Argh! It’s fucking five AM. On hands and knees, I crawl to the banister and shout down to Suds. “Coffee!”
His brows raise as he throws a pod into the machine. “Coming right up.”
At that, I throw on some yoga pants and one of his oversized sweat shirts before clomping down the stairs. When I reach for the light switch, all I get is a handful of wires.
“Huh?” Remembering the state of my bathroom, I maneuver over the rocking floorboards, locate the toilet, and pee.
No sink, I make my way to the kitchen countertop and wash my hands. Maybe living above our office space wasn’t such a great idea, after all. Sharing an apartment with cousins is sounding better and better.
Catrina, sensing my mood, jumps to the countertop next to the toaster, meeting me eye to eye. “Meow?”
The jackhammers start up and again, she yowls and digs her claws into my shoulder as she does a flying leap into the living room and under the couch.
“Damn. The cat drew blood.” Pulling at the shirt’s collar, I inspect the damage.
I want to share a few words about our fucked up morning but Suds looks so miserable I can’t. After sipping down some much needed coffee, I walk across the room to where he stares out the window.
