Chapter 9
Let me be your ride or die
Harley
Alarge hand shakes me. “Harley.”
I open one eye and pull the blanket over my head.
“You okay?” Kaz says, “You’ve been sleeping for five hours.”
I push the blanket off my face and stare up bleary-eyed at my new roommate. “What do you mean, five hours? That’s not possible.”
“You sat on the couch, and the time it took me to bring your belongings to the guestroom and come back downstairs, you were out like a light. I laid you across the couch so you would be comfortable, placed a blanket over you, and went downstairs to my office. After a string of calls, I went out to run some errands. When I got back, I had time to have a long conversation with my publicist.”
I rub my eyes and sit up. “I haven’t been sleeping very well.”
“It’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot.”
He’s traded the navy-blue suit he was wearing for a casual look. Even in his designer black hoodie and matching color jeans, he’s still badass.
Conscious of the presence of this gorgeous man, I tuck a few loose strands in the elastic holding my messy top bun and wipe my chin, in case there’s drool left from my nap. I’m sure I won’t win any beauty contest, but at least I won’t scare him.
“I have, but I’m certain I slept that long because your couch is a million times more comfortable than my lumpy secondhand futon.”
“Speaking of your old place of residency, I returned to your building and using the key you gave me, I let in a team of private investigators.”
My head rears back. “Why would you do that?”
“I wanted a team of professionals to document what had taken place. Also, I wanted them to sweep the apartment to determine if there were other cameras or listening devices.”
“Were there?”
He shakes his head. “No. Your superintendent wasn’t that sophisticated.”
“Good to know it could’ve been worse.”
“I also got in touch with my lawyer.”
“Why?”
“Your legal representation will get in touch with your landlord to expose how you’ve been violated.”
“But I don’t have legal representation.”
“And that’s why I got in touch with my lawyer. I’ll foot the bill.”
“Kaz, I can’t accept that. You’ve already done so much. You opened your home to me.”
He holds my gaze for a beat. “Are there women or families with children living in the basement apartment?”
I nod. “There are a few single moms.”
“What if the superintendent placed those cameras disguised as air fresheners in other apartments? What if he’s been watching little kids…”
Whoa.
“My lawyer said something that got me thinking.”
“What?”
“Was the foul smell a problem from the moment you rented the apartment?”
I shake my head. “No. It started happening a couple weeks ago.”
“What if the superintendent is the one behind the foul smell?”
I frown. “You think?”
“There are videos online showing you how to create effective stink bombs that smell so bad after two to three weeks, you’d think several dead bodies were decomposing.
The kind of awful and rancid smell bad enough to make you want to vomit.
I gagged when I opened the door to the basement of your apartment. ”
I gasp, almost gagging myself.
“All you need is cheap quality protein powder and hot water.”
My eyes widen. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
He shakes his head. “There are other effective methods that also use simple ingredients that are available in your pantry, but those two ingredients combined are pretty potent. If the jackass created twenty or fifty stink bombs and dispersed them throughout the basement, it’s no wonder it smelled that bad. ”
I stare at him, jaw-dropped.
“When the superintendent sent the notice for him to come in and drop air fresheners to mask the odor, I bet you none of the tenants living in the basement refused.”
“I was the first one to raise my hand,” I say.
“I’m certain it was the same reaction across-the-board. That was the superintendent’s goal all along––little lambs opening their doors to the big bad wolf.”
“I’m speechless, Kaz.”
“That was my reaction when my lawyer brought it up.”
My shoulders slump. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
This incredible man is my savior.
He takes a seat on the ottoman. “Nothing will make me happier than to get to the bottom of this, so your superintendent rots in jail.”
“If what you say is true, I hope the asshole wears an orange jumpsuit for the rest of his life.”
I change position so my feet land on the floor.
I cradle the blanket to my chest. “Other than my best friend, no one has ever gone to bat for me like that. It means a lot to me.” My voice breaks. “Since meeting her, she’s been my ride or die.”
“Since I live here in the good old USA and I’m not pregnant with triplets, let me be your ride or die.” He taps his flat stomach.
I didn’t see that coming. “If your second career as a restaurateur, ice cream shop co-owner, and craft beer brewery owner don’t pan out, you should try comedy.”
“I tip my hat in respect to the men and women who excel at that profession, but I’m sure as hell not one of those people,” he says. “I’d rather take a job as part of a reproductive control team that collects elephant semen all day long under the hot African sun than do stand-up comedy.”
I lose it.
I’m laughing so hard, I slap my hand against my thigh.
“Oh, my God.” More uncontrollable laughter.
“The— The visual— Eew. Priceless. You might not smile much, but you sure know how to make me laugh.” I wipe my eyes.
For the first time in forever, my tears have nothing to do with sorrow or humiliation.
Kaz stares at me, his expression stoic as always.
I regain my composure. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s good to see you laugh.”
I grin. “It’s good to laugh.”
“If you’re laughing, that means you’re no longer in pain.”
“The medicine I took when we got to your place helped with my period.”
“Give me a second, I’ll be right back.” He disappears and returns in a flash, holding two massive reusable shopping bags. “Worried ibuprofen wouldn’t be enough, I did a search to find out what else you might need.”
What is he talking about?
He sits back down on the ottoman and drops the bags at my feet.
“I got you more ibuprofen. A hot water bottle.” He pulls out the first two items. “Herbal pain balm. An assortment of herbal teas. Lip balm for all that cringing in pain—the clerk said this will come in handy. Tampons and pads for different flows.” He pulls out each item one by one.
I gawk at him.
He… bought me a ‘that time of the month’ care package?
Dear God.
“I already have the comfy pillows and blankets. Same for your favorite ice cream, but I made sure to stock up on salty and sweet snacks. I didn’t know which ones you preferred, so I got a variety.
I also got corn kernels to make popcorn.
” He moves his attention to the second bag, pulls items from it, and places them on the couch next to me.
“And I got you an assortment of chocolate bars.” He holds them up, fanned out like a winning hand at a high stake poker game.
It’s like the man raided a convenience store.
And how did he know chocolate was my go-to treat to soothe the pain when I have my period?
“And I stopped by a bookstore to stock up on romance books. Since you mentioned hockey romance when we were in the Hamptons, I grabbed you the top sellers. The clerk who was helping me had a few other suggestions. I bought those as well. Whatever you don’t like, I can return or exchange.
I also got you gift cards, so you can keep reading to your heart’s content. ”
I’m so shocked, I can’t speak.
He meets my gaze and frowns. “Is there anything I’m missing?”
I blink.
It’s like he bought a drugstore, convenience store, and bookstore out of business.
“Harley?”
“You did this for me?” I point to my chest.
“When you packed all your belongings from your apartment, your whole existence could fit in three suitcases.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Now that you’re living with me, I want to make sure you have everything you need.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, choking the air in my throat. I bite my lower lip to avoid crying. This is what real kindness feels like, a gesture no one but my best friend has showed me in years.