I turn away, and I’m halfway out the door when I stop and look back. “Hey, Bobby.”
He arches a brow.
“You can stay, you know. I mean, just if you want. It’s not so bad having you around.”
His mouth tilts up, blue eyes twinkling. “Thanks. Not so bad hangin’ around, either.”
We stare at each other for a second, a peaceful sort of understanding filling the gap between us, then I give them both a wave and step outside. Turns out a lack of sleep doesn’t make walking harder. In fact, it’s almost easier when you’re in a foggy daze, never quite feeling the impact of your footsteps.
Mr. Blackwood’s door is locked when I arrive, which is strange since I know he’s home. Not only is his car parked out front, but another vehicle I don’t recognize sits beside his. A guest? Another clairvoyant, maybe? That thought sparks an eagerness within me, reigniting what little determination I have left, and I give the door a quick rap. I wait a moment, expecting to hear the thump of his steps moving toward the foyer as I usually would, but I get nothing. I knock again, harder this time. After a minute, I hear it.Thump, thump, thump.
I take in a breath and place one hand on the handle, ready to get to work. Except the door doesn’t open. Instead, Mr. Blackwood’s voice booms through from the other side, grumpy as ever. “You’re relieved from duty.”
I frown, certain I misheard him. “What?”
“I said you’re relieved! Go home. Celebrate. Get drunk.”
“Mr. Blackwood, I’m not leaving.”
“Well then I hope you brought an umbrella. I hear it’s about to rain.”
I look up at the clouds. Sure enough, they’re grey and murky. Just my luck. “Let me in. I have to talk to you.”
“No can do. I’m no longer in need of your services.”
I let out a growl and bang once on the door. What the hell? “I’m serious. It’s about Enzo.”
There’s a long pause. So long I wonder if he’s walked away. But when he speaks again, his voice is somehow closer. Like he’s standing right on the other side of the door. “Drop it, Lou. I am, and you need to, too.”
“What? You can’t drop it!” I don’t care that I’m shouting, and the anger spiking my adrenaline sure doesn’t either. I inch closer, ensuring he can hear every word I say next. “You don’t understand. IknowEnzo. I’ve seen him. I know where to find him.”
He goes silent again, and I try to imagine what must be going through his mind. Does he even believe me?
When whole minutes pass and he still says nothing, the anger only soars again. “You’re so close!”
To my surprise, he answers to that. “No, I’m not. Not by a long shot. It’s over, all right? Now I need you to leave.”
I scoff, pounding my fist again. “Oh, is that what you need? Well I need you to open up this stupid door and get to work with me. I need . . . I need you to have faith.” I squeeze my eyes shut because, god, I don’t want to cry again. Soon there won’t be anything left. “Heneeds you. Y-you can’t just give up on him.”
He doesn’t respond, but his silence answers me just as well. He’s not about to open the door. “Fine! I’ll sit here all day if I have to, you know.”
Still nothing. I know he’s still standing there, though. His thumps would’ve given him away otherwise. I take a step back, lowering myself down and leaning my back against the wall.
He wants to be stubborn? Well, two can play that game.
I’m drenched. This isn’t just a light drizzle, but a full on raging downpour. It whips its way in every direction, teaming up with the wind to get to me despite the partial covering above my head. I’m shivering so hard my teeth chatter, but I’m not about to budge. If Enzo can put up with a dark void sucking the very life out of him as I sit here, on this porch, I can deal with a little rain.
I don’t know how long I stay like that before the door creaks open, and a plate and sleeping bag are slipped out. All I can focus on is that slight opening, allowing me to see into the living room. And I lunge. The door slams shut, just before it can take my hand with it. I growl. Again. Like a dog being banned from going inside with the rest of the family. I almost chuckle at that thought, but then I realize the lack of sleep and food is making me delirious. I stare at the plate. A slice of pizza stares at me. We stare at each other.
I won’t eat it, though, no matter how hard it taunts me. I’m on motherfuckin’ strike.
Chapter 47
It’s been seven days.
Seven days since I’ve seen or heard from Enzo.
Seven days of camping out on Mr. Blackwood’s porch.
