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Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 99 из 205“What are you up to?”
“Nothing, really. I've just never given my key to a man before, and I'm a little unsure about it. Jittery.” I gave her my best wide-eyed innocent look. I resisted the urge to bat my eyes, but everything else was working.
She crossed her arms over her stomach. I don't think she believed me. “If you are that nervous about this young man, then he is not the right one for you. If he was, you wouldn't be jittery.”
I felt light with relief. She believed. “You're probably right. Thank you for the advice. I may even take it.” I felt so good, I patted Custard on top of his furry little head.
I heard Mrs. Pringle say as I walked away, “Now, Custard, do your business and let's go upstairs.”
For the second time in the same day I might have an intruder in my apartment. I walked down the hushed corridor and drew my gun. A door opened. A man and two children walked out. I slipped my gun and my hand in the shopping bag, pretending to search for something. I listened to their footsteps echo down the stairs.
I couldn't just sit out here with a gun. Someone would call the police. Everybody was home from work, eating dinner, reading the paper, playing with the kids. Suburban America was awake and alert. You could not walk through it with a gun drawn.
I carried the shopping bag in my left hand in front of me, gun and right hand still inside it. If worse came to worse, I'd shoot through the bag. I walked two doors past my apartment and dug my keys out of my purse. I sat the shopping bag against the wall and transferred the gun to my left hand. I could shoot left-handed, not as well, but it would have to do. I held the gun parallel to my thigh and hoped nobody would come the wrong way down the hall and see it. I knelt by the door, keys cupped in my right hand, quiet, not jingling this time. I learn fast.
I held the gun in front of my chest and inserted the keys. The lock clicked. I flinched and waited for gunshots or noise, or something. Nothing. I slipped the keys into my pocket and switched the gun back to my right hand. With just my wrist and part of my arm in front of the door, I turned the knob and pushed hard.
The door swung back and banged against the far wall, nobody there. No gunshots at the door. Silence.
I was crouched by the doorjamb, gun straight out, scanning the room. There was no one to see. The chair, still facing the door, was empty this time. I would almost have been relieved to see Edward.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs at the end of the hall. I had to make a decision.
“Nothing, really. I've just never given my key to a man before, and I'm a little unsure about it. Jittery.” I gave her my best wide-eyed innocent look. I resisted the urge to bat my eyes, but everything else was working.
She crossed her arms over her stomach. I don't think she believed me. “If you are that nervous about this young man, then he is not the right one for you. If he was, you wouldn't be jittery.”
I felt light with relief. She believed. “You're probably right. Thank you for the advice. I may even take it.” I felt so good, I patted Custard on top of his furry little head.
I heard Mrs. Pringle say as I walked away, “Now, Custard, do your business and let's go upstairs.”
For the second time in the same day I might have an intruder in my apartment. I walked down the hushed corridor and drew my gun. A door opened. A man and two children walked out. I slipped my gun and my hand in the shopping bag, pretending to search for something. I listened to their footsteps echo down the stairs.
I couldn't just sit out here with a gun. Someone would call the police. Everybody was home from work, eating dinner, reading the paper, playing with the kids. Suburban America was awake and alert. You could not walk through it with a gun drawn.
I carried the shopping bag in my left hand in front of me, gun and right hand still inside it. If worse came to worse, I'd shoot through the bag. I walked two doors past my apartment and dug my keys out of my purse. I sat the shopping bag against the wall and transferred the gun to my left hand. I could shoot left-handed, not as well, but it would have to do. I held the gun parallel to my thigh and hoped nobody would come the wrong way down the hall and see it. I knelt by the door, keys cupped in my right hand, quiet, not jingling this time. I learn fast.
I held the gun in front of my chest and inserted the keys. The lock clicked. I flinched and waited for gunshots or noise, or something. Nothing. I slipped the keys into my pocket and switched the gun back to my right hand. With just my wrist and part of my arm in front of the door, I turned the knob and pushed hard.
The door swung back and banged against the far wall, nobody there. No gunshots at the door. Silence.
I was crouched by the doorjamb, gun straight out, scanning the room. There was no one to see. The chair, still facing the door, was empty this time. I would almost have been relieved to see Edward.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs at the end of the hall. I had to make a decision.