Ten
Mira
Sharing that pizza was the last time in more than a week that I saw Blaine. Sure, I’d occasionally hear him banging around in the kitchen when I was in my bedroom, or hear his shower going while I trotted down the stairs to the kitchen myself, but we didn’t actually come face-to-face at any point.
At the beginning, I found it such a relief. Not actually seeing him meant I didn’t have to really deal with him, which made getting along so much easier. I talked to Rob—the goon who was most frequently stationed outside our front door—and got my shopping arrangements sorted out, and was on that occasion handed the platinum AmEx Blaine had apparently told his righthand man to give to me with instructions to use it as I pleased, “within reason.”
I’m not going to lie, the “within reaso
