Gargantuan_ A Ruby Murphy Mystery - Maggie Estep [2]
“How can you not trust him? You don’t know him.”
Ramirez shrugs. “I just don’t want to see you in any more trouble with men,” he says, making it sound like trouble with men is my life’s pursuit.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask.
“Go ahead.”
“When’s Elsie coming back?”
“Soon I guess. Not sure. Aunt’s still sick.”
“Oh.”
“There’s something about those eyes of his. They’re a funny color, Ruby.”
“What? Whose eyes?”
“The jockey.”
“His eyes are blue,” I protest.
“They’re a funny bright blue. I don’t like it. I knew a dog with eyes like that once.”
“You’re comparing the object of my affections to a dog?”
“No, just his eyes.”
This is disturbing. Ramirez has never poked his nose so firmly into my affairs. Elsie, yes. But not Ramirez. He stands up and goes to the stove to see about the tea.
“Drink your tea,” he says a moment later, setting a cup in front of me.
He sits back down and frowns again, causing his dark eyes to disappear under folds of forehead. “I’m sorry to be in a mood, Ruby,” he sighs. “It’s the snow. It’s getting to me.”
“Apparently.”
“Don’t be mad,” he urges, uncharacteristically patting my hand and squeezing it.
“Okay,” I shrug.
I sip my tea and, as soon as it’s slightly cool, drink it all down and bid my neighbor good night.
“You’re sure you’re not upset with me, lady?” Ramirez asks, escorting me back to my own front door.
“No,” I sigh. “I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Understand everything,” I say, not wanting to explain myself.
“That makes one of us,” my neighbor says.
I go back into my apartment. Stinky is still on the couch and Lulu is now keeping him company—though she’s sitting about a foot away from him, pretending she doesn’t like him enough to get closer.
I walk back into the bedroom where I find Attila still sleeping but turned onto his side. He’s bunched up, like he’s riding a racehorse in his sleep. I get in bed next to him, prop up on my elbow and stare at him. His blond crew cut is growing out and some of his hair is mashed to the side of his head. His entire body is, even in repose, rippled with muscle. It occurs to me that racehorses and jockeys are similar in their impossibly lean but muscular physiques. Horses don’t have to vomit up their dinner to keep to a certain weight though.
I rest my head on the pillow and look up at the ceiling which, for some reason, I recently painted leafy green.
“What are you doing?” Attila suddenly asks. I turn my head and find that his eyes are open.
“Nothing.”
“I woke up and you weren’t here,” he says, reaching for me.
“Just went across the hall to say hello to my neighbor,” I say entwining my legs with his.
“That Ramirez fellow?”
“Yeah.”
“That guy hates me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I just know. You spend enough time around horses, you develop a sixth sense. Mostly about horses, but about people too.”
“I think he’s just protective of me.”
“So you admit it? He thinks I’m bad for you? He’s got it in for me?”
“No, nothing like that,” I protest, running my hand down Attila’s forearm, kneading the muscles there.
“What, he liked your last boyfriend better?” Attila presses on.
“Not that either. He’s a Vietnam vet, he’s suspicious by nature.”
“Uh-huh,” Attila grunts, not buying it. “The man can’t stand me,” he declares.
To take his mind off this alleged hatred, I run my hands over Attila’s compact chest and then down into his boxer shorts. He growls, wrestles me down, and pins me underneath him.
“Nobody hates you,” I say softly into Attila’s ear.
“That’s not entirely true,” he says, putting his mouth to mine.
I didn’t believe him. But I should have.
ATTILA JOHNSON
2.
Man on Fire
I woke up feeling like someone had ripped out my insides and replaced them with fire. I took a deep breath and turned onto my side but the view wasn’t one to cool me down. Ruby was sprawled across two-thirds of the bed. Her black hair was coiled in snakes against the white sheets. Her red nightgown was unceremoniously hiked up over one hip, exposing her hind end. I reached over and lightly rubbed her thigh, my hands rough