It rang two more times. She picked up. “H-hello?”
“Hey, Em. It’s Michael. I wanted to make sure you weren’t sore after teaching that wall a thing or two.”
If only he knew she’d taught Trent’s face a thing or two. “I’m…um. How’s Eli?”
“He’ll live. He’s tougher than he looks.”
She wanted to laugh but couldn’t. All the Zorn brothers looked tough. “Good.”
“The medic made him ice his shoulder and is forcing him to lay off the heavy lifting for a couple of days. I’m sure he won’t listen. Anyway, it could have been worse.”
She nodded in acknowledgment, even though she knew Michael couldn’t see her.
He didn’t need to see her. After a pause, he responded. “Something’s wrong. You sound like someone just steamrolled your pet kitten. Are you okay?”
“Do you want the truth or the polite answer?”
“I’d like the truth even more now.”
“I’m not okay. Oh, and I think I broke my hand.”
“What? How?”
“Actually, I don’t think it’s broken but the color is weird. Should blood under the skin look red or purple?” Her voice went up in pitch with each syllable. She was just about ready to lose her shit big time.
I see the way Michael Zorn looks at you.
“Where are you?”
“My condo.”
“Alone?”
“Oh, yeah.” She snickered like the crazy lady who lived in the subway station, arguing with the walls. “Definitely alone.”
“I’m coming.”
Another lunatic laugh. “But you’re a big TV star. You shouldn’t care about my little people problems.”
“Fuck that shit. Where do you live?”
“Southport Street.”
“Really? I live on The Kingsway. We’re practically neighbors.”
“The Kingsway. La dee da. I’d better break out the fine china.”
“Well, I am a major TV star.”
She wanted to laugh at his joke, but tears swarmed her eyes. As her last shred of loyalty to Trent dissolved, a sliver of relief infiltrated her darkness. She had to talk to someone or she’d burst. Her brother would only lecture her and rightly so, but she couldn’t listen to him right now. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to talk to Michael either. She liked him a little too much, but had stopped feeling tortured about it the moment she set foot outside that coffee shop. “I’m at number 60. Unit 1013. I’ll buzz you up.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Thanks, Michael. By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have any gauze, would you?”
“I think I can spot you some gauze. Be right there.”
He ended their conversation, but it was a whole five minutes later that Emily realized she was still standing in the hallway, cushioning her sore hand, staring at the closed door, waiting for answers that refused to materialize.
