Ward #6
“She did it through aggression and overwhelming force of personality. You managed it without raising your voice.”
I couldn’t explain why, but I felt my stomach shift uncomfortably at his words, though that definitely wasn’t helped by the intensity of his stare.
Suddenly, the gaze that had seemed interesting and insightful now felt piercing.
I wasn’t so vain and arrogant as to believe I was immune to being perceived by another person; I wasn’t that good at hiding my true self, or as cold as my mother.
That didn’t mean I liked the idea that someone could see something about me I had never seen before, especially when it was just the feeling but no answer as to what he was seeing.
Then again, maybe that was a good thing. It wasn’t often that someone interested me and put me off balance by doing next to nothing. How long had it been since someone had made me feel uncomfortable?
Before he could say anything else, a shriek came from somewhere in the penthouse, and I felt my face go cold.
I turned to see someone in the hallway; hand pressed to her mouth as she stared into the bathroom.
Frowning, I got up as other people took up the cry, some stumbling away, and others staring into the bathroom.
I didn’t need to see what was happening when I could make a damned good guess.
“I thought...I thought someone was just taking too long,” the girl whispered, turning her face away as I stopped at the door and sighed.
“Another one?” Arlo called from the bedroom, peering over the bed.
“Not quite,” I said with a wince. I had thought myself a delightful brat for picking the black tiling for the bathroom, a decorative choice that had already been done to death, and its status as a cliché had been about as tempting as my hedonistic lifestyle.
I hadn’t considered what it would look like with someone’s blood pooling on it, and I decided I wasn’t a fan of the combination.
The woman was slumped against the wall of the shower stall, her head down, concealing her face beneath a curtain of thick hair.
Her arms were in her lap; her forearms were a horror of raw meat and gristle where she had sliced them open from the crook of her elbow to her wrists.
A pained sigh escaped me when I saw the instrument she’d used, one of the two straight razors from a particularly fantastic rendition of Sweeney Todd I’d seen a couple of years ago at a theater.
They had used actual straight razors in their show because they couldn’t afford props that didn’t look like cheap plastic, even from the audience, and now I regretted getting them sharpened before putting them on display in my sitting room.
“Ward?” Arlo called softly, and I shot him a grimace before shooing people away as I heard the front door open and a call from what I had to guess was the EMTs.
Sighing, I grabbed the door and closed it, leaving only a crack.
Enough to block the sight but allowing access to get to the body.
There was no point trying to see if the woman had survived the obvious suicide attempt.
I didn’t need to be a medical expert to know the chances of surviving that much blood loss were zero.
Arlo looked at me curiously as the EMTs came thundering down the hallway, apparently shown the way by my guests. We both moved out of their way, Arlo taking the time to tell them what had happened and what he’d done, enough to let them do their job.
“There’s another woman in the bathroom down the hall,” I told them with a sigh. “But uh...there’s no need to rush to her.”
“Why’s that?” one of the two EMTs asked as they began working on the man, who was beginning to mutter as he was moved.
“Unless you can make someone less dead,” I said with a shrug.
“Go,” his partner told him with a nod. “I’ll shout if he starts to crash.”
The first EMT got up and followed me down the hallway, Arlo drifting casually behind us.
His lips pursed as he stepped into the bathroom and bent to examine the girl, keeping out of the blood that had pooled in my shower stall.
He pressed fingers against her throat and tilted her head back, but I wasn’t surprised when he shook his head and stood up to give me a pointed look before moving back to the guest bedroom.
“And here I thought I was done with people using my parties as a place to off themselves,” I said with a shake of my head. “Clearly not.”
“How often has this happened?” Arlo asked, staring at the body with an impassive expression.
“It’s been nearly three years since the last one; that one was at least polite enough to throw themselves off the building and leave the mess on the streets.”
“Ah, well, I suppose now it’s easier to see that you’re being flippant about death this time.”
“Yes, perhaps because I’m a little uncomfortable staring at the insides of her arms while her blood gets into my grout. You, however, seem completely unfazed.”
“I’d say you get used to death, but that’s not necessarily true.”
It was vague enough to be interesting while still giving me some information on him.
When I caught the flicker of sympathy as his eyes lingered on her before pulling away, I realized he wasn’t as cold a fish as he initially seemed.
In fact, I’d say he was nearly as reserved about showing what lay beneath the surface as I was; he just pulled off disconnected and cool better than I ever could.
If I tried something like that, I’d end up looking like a knock-off version of my mother, which.
..absolutely the fuck not. I would stick with the disinterested, playboy personality.
I closed the door, leaving it ajar again, before glancing at him. “So, death follows you, huh?”
“It seems to,” he said with a shrug.
“You know, if this were a movie, you would be riddled with guilt and trying to warn people away from you,” I told him with a smirk.
“I have things to feel guilty about, but the choices of other people, no matter how heartbreaking, do not weigh on my conscience,” he said with another glance toward the doorway.
“And it’s not that death stalks the people I’m around, more that I just so happen to show up when death is going to be around. ”
“So, it’s more accurate to say that you haunt death,” I said.
He blinked and let out a soft laugh, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “I never thought of it like that. I’ll have to remember that the next time one of my siblings decides to tease me.”
“I’m so glad to be of service. Though I am sorry to say that while it was nice to get you to come in, I’m disappointed it took a near-death experience to get you here in the first place,” I said with a shrug. “Perhaps I could make it up to you.”
Arlo smiled, ducking his head in an almost shy way. “As much as I enjoy listening to people have a good time, this sort of party really isn’t my thing.”
“If I were going to invite you to one of my parties, I’d point out that variety is the spice of life and perhaps trying it would be good for you.”
“To which I’d say that you might have a point, but clearly, that isn’t what you have in mind.”
I looked him over. “How about a date?”
His head shot up, eyes going wide. “Pardon?”
“That is,” I added quickly but smoothly, “unless you’re not into men...or me specifically. Then it could just be a way for me to make things up to you as friends.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised you’re so forward,” he said.
“Now who’s being evasive?”
“I have to admit, I wasn’t prepared for the offer.”
“I’m also not a dainty flower; I can take rejection. By all means, tell me no if you’d like.”
“No, I…” he cleared his throat. “I’m not used to people being so...direct. At least about their interest in me.”
“I’m under the impression that you are not, in fact, against the idea, just surprised.”
“That would be an accurate summary.”
“Then how about you take my number? If you decide to accept my offer, you can contact me.”
He stared at me for a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and offering it up after unlocking it. “That would work just fine for me.”
“Perfect,” I said, punching in my number under a new contact, locking the screen, and noticing the picture on it.
It was a group of people, none of whom resembled Arlo.
They stood close, arms wrapped around each other in a tight but casual grip that spoke of a close bond as they grinned at the camera. “Cute. Family?”
“Yes,” he said simply, tucking his phone away more quickly than he had taken it out.
“Sore subject?” I wondered.
“No,” he said with a shrug. “Just my family.”
Interesting. Not a sore subject but clearly one he wasn’t willing to get into, at least not with me. “Fair enough. If you take me up on my offer, ask about my family. That will probably be more interesting.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Because your family looks happy.”
“Ah.”
“Feel free to stick around as long as you’d like,” I told him with a smile as I backed up. “I should probably work on calming the rest of them down and moving them out. Probably through the fire exit to ensure they stay out of the way. My night is about to get so much more interesting.”
“You seem to use interesting for everything, good and bad.”
“Because interesting doesn’t have a positive or negative quality.”
He cocked his head but said nothing, leaning back against the wall and letting me walk away to start herding the crowd of tweaked-out, drunken idiots I had invited into my home.
I braced myself for what was to come, sparing a look back as I began to get people out.
He never moved from his spot the whole time, not until someone came to get the woman in my shower.
As if he were standing guard, maybe even an honor guard.