“I killed him.” He slams the door in my face, and the shower turns on just a few seconds later.
My hand reaches for the knob, but I pull back, knowing I have no business opening the door. I feel strangely numb and detached as I shuffle over to the couch. I don’t know if I should be relieved, pissed, or feel bad that Winger has blood on his hands and it’s my fault. Why is this now just sinking in?
He was right when he said I brought this to him and that I made this his business, but I wish he would have just walked away or let me.
WINGER
The scalding water runs down my back, doing little to erase the shit going on in my head. I have never in my life enjoyed killing anyone, but I found satisfaction in watching him die after I made sure he wasn’t the one behind the attempt on Maxine’s life.
His body will never be found, and all the evidence he had of how fucked up he was went up in flames with the rest of his house when I torched it. I didn’t want there to be any link to the case down in Cleveland that still seems to be getting a lot of media attention. His manner of death is listed as undetermined, which means the case isn’t officially closed. I really fucking hope Max was as careful as she claims.
For just a second, it felt like she was concerned for me while we were in the kitchen. I felt her eyes scanning me. Hell, she was probably looking for a weakness she could exploit.
The small bathroom is filled with steam when I cut the water off, so I swipe my hand across the mirror before picking up my toothbrush. Another thought occurs to me, and I hesitate before putting it in my mouth.
With only a towel around my waist, I throw the door open. “I need an honest answer right now, Max.”
She’s staring right at me, her eyes wide in question.
“Did you fuck with my toothbrush?”
Her head tilts back, and she frowns. “No.”
“Are you sure? I haven’t brushed my teeth in two days, and I’m going to be pissed if you did something to it.”
“What would I do? Shove it up my ass?” She seems genuinely confused. “Play back your stupid tapes. I didn’t even go into that bathroom.”
I leave the door open, allowing more of the heat and steam to escape and scrub the fuzz off my teeth. It does more to make me feel better than three showers could. Her eyes track me as I head to the room I’ve been using. I don’t bother latching the door, but I do push it closed most of the way.
My boxers aren’t even pulled up when I hear her at the door. “Winger?” Her voice sounds soft. I’m instantly alert, unsure what to expect. The door swings open a little, but not enough for her to see into the room. “Can I talk to you?”
“You want to talk now?” Does she think catching me with my pants off is going to give her some sort of advantage? Shit, I need to go get the keys from the pocket of my jeans I left on the bathroom floor.
“I just… It can wait, sorry.”
I let several beats of silence pass before picking up my shorts and sliding them up my legs while keeping my eyes on the door the entire time, in case she comes storming in here, thinking she has the advantage.
As soon as my dick is covered, I walk right back into the bathroom and collect the shit I left on the floor. She’s sitting on the couch, nibbling on her thumbnail. I try to ignore the fact that her eyes make a lap up and down my body but do a piss-poor job, so I use the bundle of clothes to cover my thickening cock. I really must like to torture myself.
“You really killed him?” she questions before I can make it back to the room.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” she mutters so softly, I’m not sure I really heard her, so I look over my shoulder. Her face is down as she stares at her lap. The problem is I don’t know if I can buy this contrite act.
What I do know is that I haven’t slept in two days and I’m fucking tired. My hand hovers over the doorknob. For my own safety, I should close and lock the fucking thing so she doesn’t kill me while I’m sleeping, but I don’t. Stupidly, I leave the door cracked out of misplaced sympathy. I took every chance I got to check the cameras when I was away, which means I watched her wander around all day like a ghost, looking for something she could never find.
I slip the keys under my pillow and climb in the bed. The sheets are loose, which bugs the shit out of me, but not enough for me to get my ass back up and make the bed. My head hits the pillow, and my eyes are already closed.
* * *
The smellof food is the first thing that greets me when I open my eyes. I blink, taking stock of the fact that she didn’t try to kill me in my sleep. My head swims when I sit up, making me wish I would have stayed in bed longer, but the need to piss drives me from the room.
The smell is stronger when I exit, and my stomach grumbles in response. I squint from the light coming through the window, which means I can’t make out Maxine’s face when she turns from the stove and watches me.
“I thought you were dead,” she snarks, sounding much more like the troublemaker I’ve come to expect.
“Not that lucky, I guess.” I close the door behind me and have to hold onto the wall while I piss so I don’t wave my dick all around and make a mess of the floor.
