No Place Like Home

Chapter 2

It took all his strength not to curl up beside his lover and leave Vic sleeping in the bed, the dog already comfortable in the spot where Matt wanted to be. But he packed a small duffle bag with a change of clothes, added some toiletries, and fed Sadie a bowl of kibble before heading back out into the rain. This time he took an umbrella, but he left it inside the front door to the building because he couldn’t get it to open and he really didn’t have time to f**k with it this morning. Instead, he dashed down the stairs and through the puddles already pooling on the sidewalk to reach his car. Opening the passenger side door, he tossed in his duffle bag, then hurried around to the driver’s side.

And flooded his sneakers when he stepped off the curb into several inches of freezing, fast-flowing water.

“s**t!” he cried, trying to shake off his wet shoes, but there seemed to be a small stream flowing along the curb, and it splashed over his feet, numbing his toes. Seriously, he wondered if the day could possibly get any worse?

Unfortunately, the answer was yes. The street light at the end of his street had gone out at some point, but unlike the power in Matt’s apartment, this was still on blinkers. No one seemed able to stop correctly at the intersection. Finally after five long minutes of waiting for his turn, Matt pressed his soaking sneaker on the gas pedal and tore out into the street. “f**k you,” he muttered as someone blared a horn in passing.

As he neared the exit ramp for the interstate, he caught a glimpse of the parking lot on I-95 and veered off at the last second, deciding to take the long way into work to avoid getting stuck. But more street lights were out, and there was a school zone to boot, and everyone else seemed to have the same idea as he did, so he crawled through the city streets as rain lashed his car. The Jaguar rocked with each gust of wind, and twice he had to swerve to avoid large branches that had broken off and lay across the road haphazardly. “f**k,” he muttered, hands clenched on the steering wheel, eyes squinting to try and see the road. His windshield wipers were on the highest setting, and still couldn’t clear the rain away fast enough. His defrost blew cold air around him, but there was a thin layer of condensation fanning from the bottom of the windshield, further obscuring his view. “f**k, f**k, fuck.”

He should’ve called in sick. Stayed in bed, cuddled with Vic. f**k this s**t.

When he finally reached the gym’s parking lot, his Jag hydroplaned as he took the turn and he fought to keep the car on the road. Employees were supposed to park in the back of the building, though there was no entrance there to allow them easy access—no, they had to walk to the front and enter through the glass-encased lobby like everyone else. Good exercise, management thought. But on a day like today, Matt was in no mood to trudge through the wind and rain and get even wetter.

Then he saw Roxie’s hatchback parked in the first spot immediately in front of the gym, and that cinched it. He squealed to a stop beside her car, pulled up his parking brake, grabbed his duffle bag, and made a mad dash for the door.

The gym’s sliding door hadn’t even shut behind him fully when he heard Roxie’s no-nonsense tone snap, “You’re late.”

“No s**t,” Matt muttered. He shook the rain from his curly hair much the same way Sadie had earlier and tapped the door that led to the interior of the gym. “Let me in.”

Roxie sat behind the reception desk, her dyed red hair tipped with a bluish black as if she’d dipped it in an inkwell. She wore it in two ponytails, like a five-year-old, though Matt knew she was somewhere in her mid-twenties, at least. Out of college, at any rate, and too old for twin ponytails. Her straight-cut bangs ended a half inch above arched eyebrows, and for some reason, she was wearing glasses. Thick, black frames, what he’d always heard referred to as BCDs, they looked clunky and retro on her, and completely out of place. Lipstick matching the fire-engine red of her hair completed the look.

“Roxie,” he whined, nudging the door. “Come on, I’ve had a shitty morning.”

“Like you’re the only one.” But she leaned over and pushed the button to let him in.

A short buzzer sounded, but before Matt could enter, she released the button and the noise stopped. He rammed his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge. “Roxie!”

She popped her gum at him. “Don’t you own an umbrella? You’re soaking wet.”

He rattled the door knob. “Let me in.”

With a bored look, she reached for the button again. He tensed, ready to rush in, but she didn’t push it right away. “Are those sweatpants?”

“This is a gym,” he said. Still, he knew sweats weren’t part of the gym’s dress code for employees. At least, not for the swim instructor.

“This is work,” Roxie reminded him. “What’d you do, roll out of bed and throw on the first thing you found? Are you even wearing underwear?”

“What? Of course I am.” Matt pressed flat against the door. “Come on, open up.”

Roxie squinted at him. “Looks like you’re freeballing it to me.”

Matt moved the duffle bag in front of his crotch, hiding it from view. “Roxie, if you don’t let me in so I can take a shower and change, I’m going to tell Vic—”

The buzzer sounded, loud and long this time, almost drowning him out. The door opened behind Matt, almost dumping him into the hallway. He staggered to catch his balance, then glared at Roxie as he passed by her desk.

“Tell Vic what?” she called out after him. “Hey! Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? What do you say?”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

She couldn’t have heard him, but he heard the wheels on her chair as she turned away from the computer to holler down the hall. “There are bagels in the conference room. I saved you one of the cinnamon ones, but if you’re going to be a jerk…”

In mid-step, he spun around and changed direction, heading for her desk. His stomach growled at the thought of food—he’d fed Sadie but hadn’t had time to eat anything himself. As he ducked around the corner, he saw the short plaid mini-skirt she had on, the white button-down shirt whose tails were tied in a knot at her waist, and the knee-high black boots with buckles all down the front of her calves. He waited until the bagel was safe in his hands before he asked, “Isn’t Halloween next month?”

She gave him a hard stare. “Don’t think I can’t take that back. How’s Vic?”

“Sleeping,” Matt said, chewing quickly before she decided to do just that. “Where I should be. It’s crap outside. Why the hell are we even open?”

Roxie shrugged. “A hurricane isn’t going to keep the diehard fanatics away. Heaven forbid someone misses her Zumba class just because the storm of the century decides to blow through.”

“Hurricane?” Matt almost choked on his bagel. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t you listen to the weather?” Before he could respond, Roxie turned to her computer and called up the weather.com website. “This is the outer band right here. They say it should make landfall around noon or so, but we won’t get the eye of it until maybe two or three. Then more of this s**t until the whole thing blows over. Unless, of course, it decides to stall.”

Even though Richmond was a good two hour drive from the coast, hurricanes that hit anywhere from the Outer Banks in North Carolina to Virginia Beach usually impacted the city. September was always a particularly bad month for the storms. Wind damage alone could knock out power to thousands, closing businesses and schools, while flooding posed a real problem for the River City. Situated on the banks of the James River, Richmond had seen its fair share of rapidly rising waters that flooded downtown and left hundreds stranded.

If Matt had known this was a hurricane, he really would’ve stayed home.

“f**k,” he muttered around a mouthful of bagel. If the power went out, the last place he wanted to be was stuck at work with Roxie.