Page 77 of Only Lovers in the Building

“I’d never sue,” Kylie said.

“Why?”

“Frederico hasn’t done anything wrong. If anything, he might have a case against me.”

“Okay, but if he gets out of line, please take him for all he’s got.”

She shook her head. This morning, her short hair was tucked behind her ears, the edges of which were pink, like prawns in the heat. “It’s not worth it,” she said. “Word travels fast in my industry. No one would ever hire me.”

Lily had heard this argument several times over. If it wasn’t the service industry, it was the arts. Either way, she wasn’t swayed. “With the right lawyer, you may not need to work again.”

“Who knew you were such a shark?” Kylie said. “By the way, did you ever get a chance to speak with Jeremy?”

“Not yet. I ran into him a couple times, but we haven’t spoken.” Lily averted her eyes, recalling those brief encounters in the hallway at the most inopportune times.

They bought sweet basil for the salad and fresh flowers for a centerpiece.

“I hate to say it, but your advice was spot-on,” Kylie admitted when they stopped to sample vegan brownies. “I’ve got to pull myself together or find a new job. Those are my choices. By the time he gets back, I’ll have to sort it out.”

“Or you could talk to him,” Lily suggested. “Tell him how you feel. You might be pleasantly surprised. Maybe he’s waiting for a sign from you. Maybe he’s shy.”

“That man is not shy,” Kylie shot back. “I’ve seen the way he operates.”

“Now I’m intrigued. How does he operate?”

“He’s a classic love bomber,” Kylie said.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Kylie said. “He meets a woman, showers her with attention, takes her out, calls, texts, and buys her gifts. Next thing you know, I’m making their favorite matcha and stocking the fridge for two. A few weeks go by, and he’s over it. He gets bored and moves on to the next woman.”

The love bomber . . . Lily knew the type. She’d been a victim once or twice and hadn’t yet fully recovered. These were dangerous individuals who ought to be on the FBI’s radar.

“Knowing all this, why do you want him?” Lily asked.

Kylie deflated. “I don’t know.”

“Have another brownie. It’s on me.” Looking to the future, Lily asked, “What’s the plan for July Fourth?”

“Usually, we hang out on the roof, get drunk, and watch fireworks.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

When they were done at the market, they parted ways. Kylie had a few more errands to run. Drained, Lily returned to the building. She crossed the lobby, a dozen white roses wrapped in newspaper tucked under one arm and a tote bag full of fresh citrus on the other. At the elevators, she encountered Jeremy.

For the urban apartment-dweller, bumping into a neighbor, specifically at the elevators, was a peculiar form of agony. She and Jeremy hadn’t exchanged more than two words, yet he’d seen her in her pajamas, and she’d seen him stumble home tipsy. She was determined not to make it weird.

“Hey, you!” Lily said, smiling and immediately regretting it. Who even smiles anymore? she wondered.

“Oh, hey,” he replied, flat.

The elevator arrived, and Jeremy stepped aside to let her enter first—a gentleman in ripped denim and a Nirvana concert T-shirt. They rode toward their floor in silence, the elevator making a smooth ascent only to stop abruptly somewhere between the third and fourth floors. The lights dimmed in the car, and the hazard lights flashed on.

Lily dropped the bag of citrus. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry,” Jeremy said. “This happens all the time.”

“All the time?”