Chapter 4: Shaken
1093 Words
Brooke lay in bed trying to sleep, but she couldn't shake the image of Josh dead on his kitchen floor. She knew she should get up and write, but the story didn't appeal to her. How could she write about happy endings when Josh didn't have one?
She hadn't known him long, but they connected as if they were souls together in another life. She flipped over and punched the pillow, but none of that helped her sleep. Maybe some tea.
Brooke rose and made herself some tea. Paige, her roommate, would be up soon and hopefully, Brooke's moving around didn't wake her up early. The shower went on. Paige was up. Now Brooke felt doubly bad.
When her roommate entered the kitchen, she was bright-eyed.
“I'm sorry if woke you up," Brooke said.
“No worries. I needed to go in early anyway," Paige said. “You want some breakfast while I'm cooking?"
“I'll take whatever you're having."
While Paige made them breakfast, the sun rose above the horizon. They heard a noise in the hallway, but that wasn't odd. The walls were thin in this part of town. The two women exchanged a glance.
“No one has been living next door. I wonder who is moving around in there? Should we call the cops?"
Brooke didn't want to deal with any more crime scenes at the moment. “Maybe the place has been rented."
“It has been cleaned up nicely."
A woman who hoarded cats had lived there and when she passed, the place had been cleaned up, but empty ever since. Brooke had always suspected that the cleaners had been unable to get the cat smell out of the drapes. Their cheap landlord wouldn't replace them.
Brooke tiptoed to the door and then opened it. A tall, dark man was entering the apartment. He had a nice butt. He looked as if he was going to turn around, so Brooke closed the door quietly. “It's a guy."
“What does he look like?" Paige said.
The kitchen was next to the front door, so Brooke didn't have to move to speak to her. “Tall, dark. Nice butt. That's all I could get."
“He's moving in early in the morning."
“I don't see any boxes. I guess the place is furnished," Brooke said. “No moving van."
She'd glanced out the apartment window, which had a lovely view of the parking lot.
“Maybe it's coming later. It might be nice having a guy next door."
Brooke wasn't convinced she would feel any safer with a man next door, but Paige was more optimistic than she was. “Maybe."
Paige put the food on plates and they listened to what was going on next door. Brooke's curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted to knock on the man's door and ask what would lead him to live in that apartment.
“Should we be friendly?" Paige asked.
“Have we ever welcomed a neighbor before now?" Brooke asked. “We all keep to ourselves."
“But it's a hot guy."
“I only said he had a nice butt."
Paige frowned, but Brooke could tell that her mind was plotting.
“Don't even think about it. He could be here for a month, and you'll get your hopes up about him," Brooke said.
“You are not a romantic."
“I have no reason to be."
“You write romance," Paige argued.
“I write about what doesn't happen in real life," Brooke said.
“He might be an inspiration for you."
Brooke shook her head and then finished her breakfast. There was no arguing when Paige got on a tear. She would probably march over there and knock on the man's door.
“He's probably recently divorced and the wife got everything," Brooke said.
Paige frowned. “Maybe his wife died and he couldn't bear to live in the house anymore."
“You are depressing. Are you sure you write romance?"
“You've read my stuff," Brooke said.
“Yeah, and it is good. Too bad a publisher hasn't decided they like it. You need a giant advance to get you out of this place."
“I'll bring you with me if that happens," Brooke said, not believing it ever would.
She'd written a dozen novels and garnered many rejections. Some days she wasn't sure she should bother anymore. Other days she couldn't imagine giving it up.
Paige put her plate in the sink. She spun around. “I'm going to go talk to him."
“Don't. Why?"
“Being neighborly."
“You're going to build some fantasy up around him and when it doesn't work, you'll be disappointed."
“I'm might be, but I'll live. Maybe he has crooked teeth. Or body odor."
“I don't care, Paige. He could be dangerous. He could be a drug dealer."
“Or a secret billionaire."
Brooke laughed. “You've been reading too much romance."
“Where is your sense of adventure?"
“I saw a dead body yesterday, Paige. I don't need any adventure."
“Okay, then stay in the doorway while I knock on his door. You can call the cops if something happens."
Brooke sighed, but she strode to the door after Paige. Her roommate glanced back then boldly knocked on the door to the neighbor's apartment. The door opened, and Brooke only knew that because it creaked.
“Hi, I'm Paige. I live next door."
“Penn."
“We just wanted to welcome you to the building," Paige said.
“We?"
“My chicken roommate and I."
Brooke glared at Paige, but pasted on a smile when the neighbor poked his head into the hall. “Hi."
He had the blackest hair she'd ever seen and the greenest eyes. He had a wry grin on his face as if he caught her doing something wrong. “Hello there. I'm Penn."
That was more than he'd said to Paige, but Brooke refused to analyze it.
“Well, if you need sugar or someone to talk to, we're right next door."
Penn leaned on the doorframe, but his gaze never left Brooke's. “I might need that sugar. It's good to know."
His voice was gravelly as if he was talking over sandpaper. It was sexy, and Brooke had tried to capture that voice more than once in her writing. She could listen to him all day.
Still, he could be a serial killer and she had to remember that.
- Writer
