But what about the carpets? A Rug Doctor could be rented from Vons, but it would need to wait until after work. As much as Emmett didn’t want to go, it seemed unwise to do anything too out of the ordinary. And anyway, he had promised Aaron he’d give his notice today.
He briefly wondered if it was worth it, if he even wanted to work with Aaron anymore after the way he’d behaved.
Maybe not. But nor could Emmett stomach backing out of themuseum job. The part of him that hungered for love and approval wouldn’t let him ruin things with the only man who’d ever made him feel worth anything; he knew better than to bite the hand that fed him.
Emmett’s car, though not as bad as the bedroom, provided further evidence of a blood-soaked fugue. Flies congregated around a few dark stains on the trunk, matching ones on the steering wheel, gear stick, and center console. Thankfully, the upholstery wasn’t too bad, with just a few small smears on the driver’s seat that Emmett must have left himself.
One of the property managers passed by as he cleaned the back of the car with a rag and a bottle of disinfectant. The leathery woman stopped to stare, her eyes narrowed. Emmett masked his panic with a tremulous smile.No, nothing’s the matter. You haven’t seen anything odd.
“Two thirteen?” she called out, referencing his unit number. “Looking good.”
She nodded, impressed, and walked on.
Emmett ran into Rick shortly after clocking in. “Hey there. Little late, aren’t ya?” Rick said.
“Sorry—”
“Ah, never mind. Just a couple of minutes. Man, still losing weight, huh? You don’t have cancer or anything, do ya?” Rick laughed, miming a punch to Emmett’s shoulder.
Emmett stared. “Would you have a few minutes to chat today?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“It’d be better to talk in private.”
Rick’s smile stuttered. “Right. Okay. I have a few things I need to do, but how about I give you a shout when I have a minute?” Without waiting for an answer, he hurried off.
Several hours later Rick was apparently still tied up. Emmett grumbled, wanting to get it over with already, lighten the black cloud of uncertainty hanging over his head. One of them, at least.
As he retired to the break room for his fifteen minutes, Jazz and another associate conversed at the table. The associate was younger, with discs in her ears, piercings, and witchy nails. The women noticed Emmettcome in, but otherwise neither acknowledged him. Jazz had been weird with him lately. He sat as far from them as possible.
“Did you hear about that severed arm they found this morning?” Jazz was saying.
“Arm?” The pierced associate gaped. “No, where?”
“Few streets over. Apparently a coyote was walking down the street with it in its mouth.”
“Shut up!”
“Seriously, look.” Jazz pulled the article up on her phone and showed it to her. “Someone needs to do something about those friggin’ coyotes. They’re everywhere.”
“No, they’re cute!”
“Not these ones. I heard a pack of them killed a woman in a mobility scooter. One punctured her tires and two others dragged her out of her chair.”
“It was probably Cocktail Sauce Lady. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”
A hushed discomfort permeated the room; Emmett could sense Jazz glancing at him, measuring the risk of gossiping about him while he was right there. She leaned closer to the associate, dropping into a more secretive register.
Finally Emmett pushed back from the table and walked out.
He noticed Rick in his office as he passed and stopped in the doorway.
“Hey, Rick. Now a good time to chat?”
“Mm.” Rick swallowing down a bite of his Lean Cuisine. “Actually, I’m just—”
“This will just take a minute.”
