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I don’t pause or hesitate, high-tailing it to my car. And only once inside do I take a bite of the food.
One single taste to realize why I was back there. What I already knew, breaking into her apartment.
I don’t care how long it takes.
Cinnamon is going to be mine.
17
The First Course
Cinnamon
“The rat was HUGE!” I raise my voice, staring down my apartment door like it might jump out at me.
It’s been two days since I have returned here, but the fear hasn’t dissipated.
I might have even gotten laid if not for the fucking rat. But my bad luck strikes again.
“Sweetheart, I’ve already sent pest control over there. Just get the knives and your laptop and come over to my house.” There’s a loud shuffling through the phone’s speaker. “I have to go, but call me if you need me.”
And then the phone disconnects.
There’s so much inside me screaming not to open the door, but I disregard the voice and do it anyway.
Pushing it open, my eyes skips over the space. I can’t really tell that there was an oversized creature inside it, but then I go to where the food was.
The entire container is gone.
A vision of a rat dragging the mac and cheese to their den causes a shiver of unease to wrack through me.
Forcing myself forward, I open a cabinet and dive for the case with all of my knives. Next, I twist and snag the laptop and charger off of my desk.
My attention lingers on my bed. Of the memory with John. How peaceful it felt until…
I grab the purple frog off of it.
And then I sprint away.
This place is dead to me.
At least until I have confirmation there aren’t any more pests lingering in the shadows.
***
Safely in the confines of my car, I boot up my laptop and am grateful to find it charged and still connected to my Wi-Fi.
Ring!
My phone buzzes, and I pick it up as I navigate my email.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
There’s a single email sent from earlier this morning.
Here is the address. It must be this evening. Cinnamon is at the restaurant we met at, just ask for Mr. Jack.
-B.L.T.
