The Thief Who Saved My Life

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

Never in my life have I stressed over what to wear when going somewhere before. Of course that might be because at school I’m forced to wear uniforms and someone picks out my formal wear for me at any of my father’s events. Actually I don’t recall the last time I picked out my own clothes for something that felt important, so it makes since that I’ve never stressed over it before. But right now that seems to be all I’m doing. I don’t want to show up in designer clothes and look like the rich bitch I probably am, but I also don’t want to show up like a slob and have them think I don’t care about their opinion of me.

Is being a friend with someone always this nerve-wracking?

Eventually I decide on jeans and an oversized sweater and throw my long waves up into a messy bun. Other than a bit of mascara, I don’t bother with make-up because “Sloppy Joe’s” seem like a casual enough meal.

At a quarter to five I walk out the front door of my large, empty house. Once settled into my z4 with the heater blasting, I pull directions to Talon’s house. I can’t say I’m surprised when the address pops up, as on the other side of town, but when I actually arrive in her neighborhood, I’m a little nervous.

My interactions with Garret over the last few years have pretty much numbed me to driving through poor neighborhoods. I’m no longer the naïve girl surprised to see a drug deal go down in a parking lot. But Talon’s complex is far more rundown than anything I’ve been to before.

More cars in the parking lot sit on blocks than not and overgrown grass and weeds spill onto the cracked sidewalk. Some of the siding on one of the buildings is damaged and some of it is just no longer there exposing wrapped skeleton of the building.

 I take the stairs up to their apartment; the railing is missing like someone broke it off the wall but the cement steps are in good enough condition. A rusted metal “223” decorates the door to my right, just above the peephole. The door to my left is missing it’s designated numbering, but I assume it must be 224 and raise my finger to press the doorbell.

Is it rude that I’m surprised to actually hear the chime of the bell through the door? Honestly, I didn’t expect it to work. A moment later the door swings open to reveal a smiling Talon.

“You made it!” She says and steps through the way reaching out toward me. It takes me a second to realize her intent is to hug me. When her arms wrap around my shoulders I stand stiff as a board for a moment before relaxing minutely and lifting a hand to awkwardly pat her back.

When she pulls away, Talon is still smiling as if that wasn’t the worst hug in the world.

“Hey loser!” She shouts somewhere behind her and then steps back gesturing that I enter the house. “He takes his hamburger browning duties very seriously,” she leans in to whisper conspiratorially and I can’t help but chuckle along with her, as if in on the joke. It’s easy to see that Talon is much more relaxed in her own home than at school.

I follow her into the living room and am pleasantly surprised at the state. The leather couch isn’t new and posh or anything extravagant, but aside from some sagging cushions and worn spots it’s in good condition. The walls have seen better days, as has the carpeting, but someone has obviously tried very hard to spruce the place up and make it livable. If I had to guess, I’d say Talon has put a lot of work into making this small little apartment feel like home. She did good too, it’s more homey than the giant place I live in.

Cute curtains hang over the windows and repainted end tables house lamps and picture frames. An old television sits on a small entertainment stand against the wall opposite the couch playing something with Bruce Willis- one of the newer Die Hard movies maybe.