I peer into the apartment and see a bunch of boxes on the floor, a couch you couldn’t pay me to sit on, and a fat, orange cat.
“Sorry,” I tell him, confused and disappointed. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I have the wrong address, apparently.”
“No problem, man.” He takes a good hard look at me. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Doubt it.” I start to step away.
“Yeah, I do.” He snaps his fingers as his bloodshot eyes light up. “You’re . . . You’re Kamdyn Ellis. Quarterback for Alabama and first-round draft pick!”
Shit.
I rub the back of my neck. “Yup, that would be me,” I admit reluctantly.
“Holy shit!” The guy nearly back flips out of his bathrobe. He’s awake now. “Hold on! Hold on!” He trips over his own feet as he runs back into his apartment. “Please, man, would you sign this?” He holds out a black Sharpie and a football.
“Sure.” I take the items and sign away. “What’s your name?”
“Nick.” He pipes up with a dopey smile. His expression makes me smile.
To Nick, nice bathrobe. Kamdyn Ellis
I hand him back the football, and he reads my note. He beams. “It’s my favorite. I’ve watched every single one of your games in it. Brings luck.”
“Good to know.” I laugh. “Huge fan of plaid.”Not really.
“Sorry I can’t help you find who you are looking for. Might want to ask the landlord to see if she left a forwarding address.”
“I’ll do that.” I nod. “Nice to meet you,Nick.”
“Awesome to meet you,” he replies like a kid in a candy store.
I turn to leave as he shuts the door. Before I try the landlord, I pull my phone out on the way to the elevator, search my contacts and find the one number I haven’t dared to dial in weeks. I press send and hold my breath. Someone answers after a few rings.
“Hello?”
“Lemon . . . ?”
