I’m wondering the same thing. A long-legged blonde, short skirt swinging behind her most definitely fine ass is going up the steps of the Victorian house where Mateo and I share an apartment. She’s carrying bags, as if she has been shopping, but I don’t see a car. “If I hurry, maybe I’ll find out.” Reaching back I grab my cane from the back seat.
“And maybe I don’t need to get my oil changed just yet either.” Mateo is leaning around me. We’re both watching her struggle to open the door. Wait, she’s unlocking the door. She has a key?
“Dude, she lives in our house?” Mateo asks in amazement.
“Apparently, and I think it’s time I got neighborly.” I grin at him and open the passenger side door. “You should probably go get that oil changed. You’re already over the mileage limit.”
“I can’t let you face that heavenly sweetness all alone.” Mateo gets out of the car and walks around the front of it, meeting me on the sidewalk. “Besides, she’d look so much better with me.”
I shoot him a look.
“You’re blonde. She’s blonde. Boring! However, her sexy blondness with my rugged dark looks would be a beautiful combination.” He grins. “Besides, the ladies can’t resist a hot Latino.”
“Well, if you see any, don’t send them around here, okay.”
“Hey!”
He may act insulted but I know he’s not. The one thing Mateo has never lacked is confidence. “Go get your oil changed. I got this.” I limp toward the house and Mateo rushes past me. Damn him for being able to move quicker than me. I haven’t cursed my injury in a long time, but I do today.
“Let me help you,” Mateo is saying as he takes the bags from the beauty, just as I reach the steps.
She smiles and it’s brilliant. Straight, white teeth, lush lips, blushing skin. “Thank you.” She turns back to the door. “My key seems to be sticking.”
“Here, let me.” The door’s been touchy since we moved in. Depending on the weather, sometimes it’s impossible to open and we have to go through the back. It’s just a small inconvenience for living in an old house with cheap rent. Mateo and I snatched up the two bedroom apartment right after we started working at Baxter last summer. It’s roomy enough that we don’t feel like we are on top of each other. He’s saving every penny so he can to send money to his mom and siblings, and I’m all about building my bank account to pay off school loans since I lost my scholarship when I could no longer play football.
I grab the handle, lift up on the door and turn the key. The deadbolt slides out of place, and I open the door.
“Thank you so much,” the blonde says gratefully.
Mateo may have got to her first, but I got the door open. Score one for me. “Hi, I’m Gabe Kent. Did you just move in?”
“Ellen West.” She returns my smile. Damn she’s beautiful. “Moved in a few days ago.”
Mateo steps between us. “Mateo Perez,” he says. “I’d be happy to carry these upstairs for you.”
She laughs. “That’s okay, I got it.” And she takes the bags from him.
Mateo and I just stand there staring after her as she goes up the stairs. My eyes are on those legs that go on forever until she disappears. “She is near perfection.”
“You got that right.” Mateo whistles. “And, she’d still look better on my arm.”
I ignore him and unlock the door to our apartment. “Beer?”
“Sure.” He follows me inside. “Shit. I forgot. I’m on call. None for me.”
“Your loss.” I toss the keys on the table and limp into the kitchen. As I grab a beer, I also take the icepack from the freezer. My knee could use the cold. It hasn’t been this bad for a while but I slipped on the wet floor at the hospital. The last thing I needed was to fucking twist this knee and can only hope it was a small irritation and nothing else.
Mateo grabs a soda and plops down in his favorite chair. “So, who do you think she is?
I shrug. “It can’t be Jesse’s replacement. She was here before he was hurt.”
“That must be her red Audi in the parking lot,” he says. “Beautiful car for a beautiful lady.”
“More like a sexy car for a sexier lady.”
“She’d still look better with me,” Mateo insists.
I know he’s only trying to goad me because I didn’t respond last time. “In your dreams.” I twist the top off the bottle and take a swig. “What do you think’s going to happen to Jesse?” Jesse Tinley, one of the art teachers at Baxter, was arrested this weekend, only four days ago. He was accused of having intimate relations with a sixteen-year-old girl, then beat up in jail, which included his right hand being crushed beneath the boot of a thug before being put in the ICU. The girl recanted two days later, admitting she made the whole thing up. We just got back from visiting him in the hospital, where I slipped on the wet floor. He’s going to be okay, but it’s going to take a lot of time to heal and I’m not even sure he’ll be able to sculpt again.
“I don’t know, but at least he’s been cleared of any charges,” Mateo answers. “She has no idea the world of hurt she could have caused Jesse. If she’d stuck to her story, he could have gone to jail and then labeled as a sex offender after he got out. It pisses me off.”
“This coming from a youth therapist.” I laugh. “You deal with troubled kids every day. Nothing should surprise you.”
“I know I shouldn’t be pissed, but her making this shit up because she had some romantic notion about Jesse is just fucking wrong.” He takes a drink and sets the can down on the table. “I just hope she gets the help she needs because something isn’t
