Then the motorcycle comes into view. Blaze has put it together so I can watch him coming, see how he stops and takes note of her. Then it switches to another angle, the back of Taylor as she approaches the end of the sidewalk, waiting to cross.
The bike races forward and stops right in front of her. According to the news these crimes are about opportunity. He snatches her phone and reaches for her purse, shocking her. He should leave but Taylor puts up a fight. Part of me is proud, but another is telling her to let the shit go, it’s material things, her safety matters.
“Fuck,” I growl as he gets off the bike and grapples with her. Then he hits her in the face. Her head is knocked sideways. Rage like I’ve never experienced fills my body as I watch him hit her again and again. The people around stand and fucking watch as Taylor falls to the ground.
I can watch that part later, I keep my eyes on him as he grabs her things and runs back to the bike. Blaze followed his escape for a while with CCTV footage. Then it goes back to her. Passersby are helping her now. And she’s fucking crying.
I’m going to tear his head from his fucking neck. It takes a moment for me to calm down, as I pocket the phone. Taylor doesn’t need to see me like this.
I get off the bike, walk up the path and jog up the steps onto the porch.
Now that I’m standing here, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to say to her about why I’m here. I can’t stop re-running the image of him hitting her beautiful face. Without a second thought that it’s a woman, or that he has fucked this up and should run. No, he got off his bike and…
A curtain behind a small window on the front door moves and Taylor peers out. Her eyes widen when she sees me. The glass is opaque but I can still make out most of her features.
“Open the door,” I tell her.
“What you are doing here?” she asks.
“Do you really want to have this conversation through a door?”
“You should leave, Noah.”
Hearing her call me that kick starts a heavy beat in my chest. Only Jesse calls me by that name these days. Even Phoenix and my mother call me Nero.
“Open up Cherry, I’m not going anywhere.”
Her head lowers, and she doesn’t move for a moment.
“Cherry, you either open up or I’m going to let myself in.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I reach up above the door and feel around, then look at the planters on the window and go toward them. If I know these kinds of houses and the type of man her dad was, there is a spare key here.
“Okay,” she calls out.
The sound of locks undoing and a chain sliding make me stop searching. We’ll be having words about that too. It’s not the sixties anymore, it’s not fucking safe to leave a way into her house when she lives alone.
The door opens a crack, she still isn’t letting me in.
“Cherry,” I lean an arm on the doorframe and try to see her but she is hiding her face.
“Noah, please leave.”
“You know why I’m here.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re really gonna leave me standing out here? I’m not going away. And your neighbors won’t be too happy when I bang on the door, or rev the bike to get your atten-”
“Fine,” she cuts me off. “Don’t do that.”
“All you gotta do is let me in.”
She steps back and opens the door and I walk inside before she can change her mind. I close the door and she wraps an arm around her middle, looking toward the back of the house. The front door opens up right into the living room with a staircase on the right.
It looks like a guy lived here with an old but comfortable looking dark couch, and matching chair. There is a large TV facing the couch, a coffee table and rugs. But I’m not interested in the fucking décor.
