Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [12]
“You’re a good kid,” she said. She waved behind her as she walked toward the elevator. “See you later, boys, and don’t wait up.”
I waved back and opened my door, flicking on the light and looking around before stepping in. I was still a little jumpy after the attack. Frank and Ramon followed me.
“She seems nice,” Frank said.
“Dude,” Ramon said, “did your seventy-year-old neighbor just order you to get laid?”
“What can I say? She worries.” I tried to sound lighthearted, but I think it came out tired instead.
Out of habit, Ramon leaned to put his skateboard by the door. There was a dirty smudge on the wall because he always put his board in the same place. He sighed. “You owe me a new board, Sammy.” His hand started to shake as he stared at the spot. “Not that I’m complaining. You know.” He went silent for a moment, eyes locked on that empty space. “Board well spent.”
I agreed to replace the board, even though we both knew I didn’t have the money. Maybe I could just loan him mine for a while. In the morning. After the night I’d had, I planned to sleep with the damn thing. Skateboards made a great weapon in a pinch, as Ramon had proved earlier. I should get a bat. A big metal bat. And a dog. A giant, creepy-man-eating dog. With rabies. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t afford myself, let alone a dog. To be honest, I couldn’t afford the bat.
I slumped down into my ratty plaid easy chair, not even bothering with the footrest. I hissed when my back hit and had to sit a little forward to alleviate some of the pain. I felt exactly like a brothel hot tub, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Ramon kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch while Frank walked through my small apartment. I could hear him methodically checking my closets and under my bed. He caught me watching him as he exited my room, and his face flushed.
“Just checking,” he said. I didn’t want to think what for. I felt stupid for not doing it myself. Maybe I could blame the stupidity on shock. Frank picked at the hem of his shirt.
“Shouldn’t we take you to the hospital? Or the cops? We should go to the cops.”
“And tell them what?” I snapped. “That a man said weird things to me and then another man tore off your bumper? Plus, we almost ran him over. No, I don’t think so.” I rubbed my face with the palm of my hand. “The cops will just say your decrepit bumper fell off or something.”
“But you were assaulted!” Frank continued picking at his shirt. If he kept it up, he wouldn’t have any shirt left. “And he started it.”
“To be fair,” Ramon said, plumping up the couch cushion behind his head, “we did assault him back. And it’s not like cops can tell who hit who first.” He settled into the couch. “I don’t think they can, anyway.”
“But.” Frank looked pleadingly between the two of us before giving up with another mumbled, “Assaulted.”
“And I’d like to not get more assaulted,” I said, rubbing my temples. Cops scared me a little. But the Classic Shiny guy scared me more. On the way home I’d sorted through the night in my head and come to the conclusion that the beat-down had been directly related to the evening’s earlier events. That Classic Shiny guy must have been the Douglas Montgomery that the big guy mentioned. It made more sense for the two bizarro incidents to be connected than for them to be isolated. Either way, laying low sounded pretty good right now.
“I agree with Sammy,” Ramon said. “I think telling the cops on these guys would just make things worse.”
“But—”
“Think about it, Frank. If you were a cop, who would you listen to, us or the guy in the fancy suit with a busted taillight?”
Frank collapsed into a chair, looking even more defeated than a second ago. “So you think it’s connected? The fight with