Snafu

Housekeeping - Part 1

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence, except for when Cole gave directions, which would normally irritate him. However, the confidence with which Gideon drove—all smooth turns and easy braking—soothed his thoughts to rest like a fussy baby to sleep. Cole liked this car a lot, but when they finally got to his apartment and stepped out, he spotted one flaw.

"We are not going to be able to fit very much of my stuff," he said, peering into the practically nonexistent backseat.

Gideon patted the top of the car. "I figured we'd just take some essential stuff home today. Once I see how much you have, I'll get a moving van to come around."

They would not need a moving van. All of Cole's stuff could probably fit in a mid-sized SUV except his mattress, which could easily be strapped to the top. It was only a twin. Cole hugged his arms around himself. It was strange to see Gideon in this setting - Cole's not-nice neighborhood. Townhomes across the street had chain-link fences and thigh-high grass that had not been cut all summer. The apartment building looked worse for wear. Everything that could rust had done so. The windows were grimy, with broken blinds and cardboard behind them. You could tell by looking at it that the interior had not been updated in decades, and so the whole place just stunk of stale cigarettes and weed.

Gideon tapped his fingers on the top of the Jag and took this in from behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

Cole had never brought anyone here. He was careful never to let Logan know where he lived, an old argument that he managed to win just barely each time. Elijah was the only one who actually knew where he lived because he was the one to co-sign on the original lease, and Alexis knew by extension. But they had never gone into Cole's apartment building. Cole had the sudden urge to stuff Gideon back into the car and tell him never mind. That he was homeless and lived under a bridge.

"It looks a little rough," Cole defended. "But the people are okay. They won't mess with your car."

Not during the daylight when it was going to be sitting there for less than an hour. Overnight might have been a different story. Gideon turned to him, eyes hidden by the sunglasses.

"I'd like to see them try."

He said this with a smile that was not very nice. Cole remembered he was not just some rich frat boy. He was one of the Bartas. Petty criminals probably did not mess with any black Jag in the entire goddamn city, just in case it was Gideon Barta's car.

"Right." Cole led the way to the apartment building. The guy with the beer belly who always stood out front eyed them with blatant interest as they walked by. Gideon stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was nice about it, opening the door to the building for Cole and keeping his mouth shut as he looked around. He probably went to a lot of these not-nice places while on business, but it still made Cole grow hot around the collar for him to be here.

There was a woman in Cole's hallway, sitting on the ancient carpet, which was practically black from years of traffic and no cleaning. Her chin rested on her chest, and her hands loosely cupped her purse. Cole mumbled a curse under his breath and stooped down beside her.

"Hey, Ruth?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face and tapped her cheek when she did not respond. "Ruth? Hey, wake up. Hey. There you are. What are you doing out in the hall, huh? Let's get you inside. Where are your keys?"

She could hardly lift her eyelids to look at him, and when she tried to speak, it did not come out as understandable English. One of her hands flopped around, so Cole looked down. He really did not want the keys to be in her purse. The one time he tried to look in her purse for her keys, she flipped out and scratched him right across the face. He spent a whole hour dousing the thing in alcohol, then went to work and got chewed out for having a cut on his cheek.