“What are you two idiots yelling about?” My words float down to them on a laugh. Payne sees me first and points up toward me, bumping his shoulder into Poe’s.
“Who’re you calling idiots, Bradleigh? Be nice or I’ll have to spank you later.” Even with the hand shading his eyes from the morning sun, I can almost see his sideways grin in the shadow of his palm from two floors up.
“Promises, promises, Halliday,” I fire back, the warmth of his grin flooding through me. Shoving me to the side so she can awkwardly jam her head through the opening along with mine, Sunday makes gagging noises and laughs.
“Enough with the flirting, you two.” Before she can say anything else, I hear a heavy pounding at my front door. Looking at each other with matching confused expressions, Sunday asks quietly, “Expecting somebody?” My shoulder lifts in a half shrug, and I pull my head in, straightening my shirt.
Something happens as I walk across the living room, and my feet move more and more slowly as my gut starts to churn for no good reason. Reaching the door, I peer through the peephole, and the mysteriously appearing anxiety morphs into annoyance. On the other side of the door, my landlord is picking his stained teeth with a matchbook.
Pausing with one hand on the deadbolt and the other on the doorknob, I listen to my friend’s laughter as she continues to talk to the guys on the street below. Muttering a few choice words to myself and taking a deep breath, my features shift into a neutral expression, and I flick the lock and pull the door open in one smooth motion.
“Todd, what do you wan—” Too late, I realize my first mistake was opening the door at all. My second one was opening it far enough to allow him a clear view of Sunday’s ass as she leans out the window. The minute he sets his beady eyes on her, the undisguised, greasy lust that settles over his features is puke-worthy.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” The tongue that slips out from between his wormy lips lingers too long to just be moistening them.
Sweet buttery Christ, the creepy fucker is actually salivating!
Adrenaline kicks in but not quickly enough. Just as I move to slam the door in Todd’s face, he throws his weight against it, causing me to lose my grip and the handle to smash through the drywall behind it. Off-balance, I stumble backward, and he advances on me until my back is literally pressed against the fridge. His unwashed body is so close to me that the reek of cheap alcohol seeping through his pores is making my eyes water.
“I’ve had enough of your games, girl,” he sneers with his eyes trained hungrily on my tits. “Two years, I let you live here, underage. You think you can just leave whenever you want? Good thing Candy down the hall called me when you rolled in with your fancy friends, or I’d have missed this. She may give more rides than public transit, but the whore knows which side of the bed her reduced rent is buttered on.” He laughs at his own gross joke, an awful hissing sound, and his rotten breath forces a gag from me. “You owe me, and it’s time to pay up.” Running his nasty tongue across his palm, he slides his hand down his groin and grabs his crotch through his pants. “And don’t worry, your friend with the hot ass will be paying, too.”
His nicotine-stained fingers reach to yank the wide neck of my sweatshirt down, and I smack his hand away, revolted.
Oh, fuck that noise. Fuck that noise, HARD. This is NOT happening.
Hearing the commotion behind her, Sunday tries to pull herself in the window. From my peripheral vision, I see her misjudge the size of the opening in her haste and crack the top of her head on the frame.
Todd clamps his spit-slick palm around my throat and squeezes, his free hand fumbling with the button on my jeans. I throw my arm out to the side and flail around blindly on the countertop to my left, hoping to find something to use as a weapon, while my right hand tries to keep him out of my pants.
Little dark spots start to dance in my vision. My fingers close around the handle of the dirty frying pan waiting its turn to be washed. Holding on to it as tightly as I can, I swing my arm up and clock the pervy asshole in the side of his weaselly, nasty-ass head. The blow is enough to get him to let go of me, and I suck in huge breaths, caring far more about oxygen than his stench at this point.
Just then, Sunday comes streaking across the room, screaming bloody murder, and jumps on Todd’s back. Raking her pale blue fingernails across his face and digging them into his eye sockets, she hangs on like super glue as he tries to buck her off.
“You. Sick. Fuck.” My hands grip his bony shoulders tightly for leverage, each of my words accompanied by the satisfying slam of my knee into his balls.
Squealing like a pig, he attempts an awkward forward side bend to shield his junk, and the weight of the crazy blonde on his back trying to gouge his eyes out makes him lose his balance. He topples to the floor, taking Sunday with him and knocking me sideways in the process. I hit the ground with a thud that knocks some of the wind out of me. Lying on my back, I try sliding along the heavily worn carpet to work my way out from underneath the two bodies that landed on my legs.
There’s a sudden flurry of motion at my door, coupled with unintelligible cursing. One set of hands pulls my best friend off my attacker and hauls her away, legs and arms still flailing. A second, and very familiar, set grabs the back of Todd’s neck and the waist of his grubby cargo pants simultaneously and tosses him roughly through the open doorway. Smacking gracelessly into the opposite wall, he slides to the floor, cowering and trying to cover both his head and his nuts at the same time.
From my position on the floor, I watch with a sick sort of fascination as Poe pulls up his sleeves and crouches beside the still whimpering pathetic mess in the hall, rapping his knuckle hard on Todd’s forehead to get his attention.
“I’m only going to say this once, shithead. I have zero issue with making you disappear, and my family has enough money and connections for me to get away with it.” The quiet threat curls softly through the stale air. “I am your worst fucking nightmare because you’ll never see me coming.”
Tap.
“Even if they come back to this hovel for some unknown reason, you will never go near either of them again. You see them on the street, and you walk in the other fucking direction. They do not exist in your perverted little world. Do you understand?”
Tap.
“ANSWER ME!” Poe’s voice rises to a menacing level.
Pulling myself up to a kneeling position, I watch Todd nod vigorously. He seems unable to form words with his eyes trained on the tattoo snaking up Poe’s muscular exposed forearm. Whether it's from fear of being pummeled or from being on the receiving end of a frying pan upside the head, I can’t be sure.
“Problem, son?” Mr. Halliday’s smooth, unruffled tone floats down the hall as he emerges from the stairwell.
“Nope, not at all. We have an understanding, don’t we, shitstain?” Poe must accept the incoherent babbling coming from the dirty, bloody human crumpled on the floor beside him as an agreement and gets fluidly to his feet.
“I think it's time we leave. Get the girls and their bags so we can load up the car,” Mr. Halliday says, nodding his head in my direction before pulling out his phone and taking up a spot in the hall where he can keep an eye on the lump of Todd.
Coming back into my unit and crossing to stand next to me, Poe extends his hand. Ignoring his offer of help up, I push myself to my feet and adjust my clothes.