“It was all I could think of in the moment. I gave him the deep freeze after that.”
Margie stands and sets the bowl on the dresser. “He’s still got that picture, Pen. Maybe he regrets—”
“They don’t change. Ever.”
Margie opens her mouth to say something, but we hear a sound that makes the blood freeze in my veins: keys.
“Go!” I whisper.
We race out of his bedroom and back to the sofa. Margie climbs over quickly, and I dive-bomb after her, landing in a sprawling heap on my floor after bouncing off my sofa, just as the door on Jack’s side opens.
My pulse thunders. For a moment, there is silence. Margie doesn’t make a sound. I hold my breath. Jack doesn’t move right away. Then many things seem to happen at once. The door slams, and Jack appears in The Hole like an Emerald City guard fromThe Wizard of Oz.
“Can I help you?” I force myself to release my breath in a controlled hiss, and glance up with what I hope is casual disinterest.
“What are you doing on the floor?” His voice is suspicious. He looks at Margie, maybe thinking this stranger is more likely to tell the truth. But actors are capable of poker faces. I’m the weak link. His gaze swings back to me.
“Yoga.” As he watches, I raise my hands, pretending my undignified sprawl is somehow an intentional and very Zen pose.
His lips purse. “That’s yoga? Maybe you need an instructor.”
“You’re ruining my flow. Go away.”
Jack looks back at his apartment, then into mine again. “Why is this thing now double the fucking size?”
“That’s what she said.” I slap my hands over my mouth. Nervous babbling is a curse.
Margie issues a strangled sound, but she remains completely blank-faced.
Jack’s brows gather, his stormy eyes narrowing with focus.
“Maybe you can call Gence. He won’t answer when I try him. Tell him to get up here and plug my hole. This hole.”Oh God.
The strangled sound comes from Margie again. Jack looks back and forth between us, his hands on his hips, and disappears out of The Hole. I stand slowly, then duck to observe him inspecting his apartment. He suspects something.
I turn to whisper that to Margie, only to find her shoulders shaking, her face pouring her amusement into my blue throw pillow. “Your fault,” I whisper instead, which just makes her laugh harder.
I’m almost grateful when I hear Jack’s vacuum going.
5
I knock on Gence’s door, but there’s no response. My chin drops. He’s not making this bribery business easy. I sigh and hang the bag containing a Tupperware of peanut butter hi-hat cookies from the knob.
Trudging down the hall to the lobby, I pause to let one of the tenants from 3B pass. He’s carrying a trifold project board as big as his elementary school–aged daughter next to him. By the looks of it, the project has something to do with fashion.
“I don’t think you used enough glitter, Olivia,” I joke, smiling at the little girl. 3B rolls his eyes and laughs.
“She’s kidding,” he says to his daughter. To me he adds, with a hint of desperation, “This stuff gets everywhere.Everywhere.”
My skin prickles like a sunburn. Jack is making his way down the stairs, gussied up for work. 3B and that poster board are blocking my exit. I’m trapped. Jack reaches the lobby before I can make my escape. I open my mouth to speak, close it.
“Hey look, it’s the human wrecking ball,” he says.
“At least I just wreck walls, not vibes. You’re a walking rain cloud.” I scowl up at him. The faint funk that always hangs in the air here from the nail salon next door is extra funkified, mixed as it is with his piney air-freshener smell.
“Oh good,” Gence’s voice rings out. “You are both here.”
Jack and I straighten guiltily.
