A few minutes after the door to my bathroom shuts, the water is turned on and the door opens again, only to shut a moment later.
I peek through, and once I'm sure she's not running around here naked, I enter the space and snatch the clothes she tossed out the door, leaving in a hurry to give her some privacy.
It's not that I wouldn't love to catch a glance of her in the nude, but consent is consent, and I might have some very grey morals but that is not one of them I budge on. Respecting women and their bodily autonomy has always been at the top of my list of lines I refuse to cross.
I'm walking through my apartment when I accidentally drop some of the garments she left out for me. Snatching her dress slacks off the ground, it's then that I notice something peculiar about them. I lay the rest of the things on my kitchen counter and examine the slacks, noting where the rip is and recalling a similar strand of fabric tucked into the victim’s hand that I was tasked to get rid of.
Only, he was no victim at all. No, he was the fucking abuser, and if I'm not mistaken, the reason the fucker is dead is because he tried to force himself on Cora but he underestimated her ability to fight for herself. My fist tightens around the pants, and I grow furious at his actions. At the actions of so many men.
And all the women who never stood a chance against their attackers.
"Fucking pig," I blurt out to no one but myself.
If I hadn't already disposed of his body, I would put a bullet or two into his fucking skull for good measure.
But the time has passed for that, and all that can be done now is to make sure it never happens ever again.
I snatch everything except Miller's jacket off the counter, walk over to the door leading out onto my patio, and slip outside. I toss her things into the burn barrel and douse it with lighter fluid before tossing in a match. It ignites quickly, burns for a few minutes, and then dies down. I poke at it with my fire stick, and once I'm satisfied the evidence is gone enough to not be an issue, I grab the broom leaning in the corner and sweep up the fallen leaves from the tall shrubs lining my patio. They offer full protection from any prying eyes, but damn do they make a mess if you don't keep up with it. I toss the debris into the trash and return inside to finish my task. Grabbing a bag from my laundry room, I shove Miller's jacket inside and set it near the door so I don't forget to drop it off at the dry cleaners. If there's any trace of what happened today on it, they'll get rid of it and leave nothing behind.
The counters get a wipe down with a homemade but highly effective antiseptic and when I'm done, I wash my hands twice and scrub up to my elbows.
At the same time I'm finishing, the faucet to my shower turns off, giving me only a few minutes before Cora is back out here.
I stroll to the far side of my kitchen, opening the mini fridge at my coffee bar to pull out the thing of oat milk. I check the expiration date, grateful I had groceries delivered last week, and make quick work of her special-order latte. I pull the shots of espresso and pour them into an oversized mug with some vanilla syrup and steam the oat milk until it's perfect enough to add to the espresso. I hold the cup at an angle and do my best job of creating some foam art, but it turns into a weird blob.
"That smells good," Cora says as she enters the open space of my apartment.
I don't mean to, but my entire body tenses at her arrival. I complete the latte, anyway, and turn toward her with it in my hands, careful not to spill a drop.
"Holy shit." Cora comes the rest of the way. "You made that? For me?"
"You said you wanted an oat milk latte."
She towel dries her blonde hair, and it's then that I recognize the clothes she's wearing that I had laid out for her. A pair of my sweatpants and a tee shirt, the same thing I'm wearing, only they hang on her small frame instead of hugging it like they do on me.
"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd make one. I thought you'd order it or something." She cranes her neck to look around me. "Is that a DeLonghi?"
"Yes."
"Those things are so expensive..." She turns her attention to the mug in my hand. "Oh my God, is that a heart in the foam?"
I hold the thing out to her. "I tried. I'm not very good at it though."
"Are you kidding me? It's perfect." She brings it toward her and breathes in before taking a cautious sip, the foam lingering on her upper lip prior to her licking it away. "It's so good. Thank you. I love it."
My hand itches to reach and tuck the strand of hair that falls into her face but thankfully my train of thought is interrupted by the buzzer blaring in my apartment.
"Must be our food." I rush past her and press the button near my door. "Yeah?"
"Dinner's ready, sir," the person calls back.
There are few places I order takeout from, but every single one of them has been vetted and knows certain phrases to use to get access to my building, and they change frequently in case anyone tries to pick up on them. One can never be too careful in my line of work.
I grant him entry and a few moments later, a solid knock sounds on my door. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a hundred and slip it to the kid as he gives me our order.
"Thank you, sir," he tells me with a smile he can barely hide.
I had already paid our bill on the app I ordered from, but I always like to give the delivery kids a bit extra since there's no telling if their greedy bosses ever actually tip them out what's left on the mobile orders.
