CHAPTER THREE
Conor pulled his keys out as he ran up the stairs to his apartment. He flipped through the keys as he got to the second floor. Rounding a corner into the hallway, he walked straight into someone.
“Damn. Sorry,” he said, picking up the key ring the person had dropped.
He smiled. A girl with dark, shoulder-length hair looked back at him with big brown eyes.
Even with no makeup and dressed in the blue, nondescript work clothes of a janitorial, delivery, or warehouse worker, she looked great.
Except for the angry scar on her cheek. Healed, but still pink, as if it happened not too long ago.
“That was my fault,” she said, taking her keys from his hand. “Wasn’t paying attention. I’m all out of whack—just got switched to day shift.”
Conor smiled. “You live here?”
He watched her play with her keys, avoiding eye contact, keeping her head turned to hide her scar.
She glanced up, and then held her hand out. “I’m your next-door neighbor, Julia.”
Conor frowned. “You’re my what?”
Julia managed half a smile, her hand still outstretched. She glanced at her hand. “You gonna leave me hanging?”
He shook her hand, feeling his face grow hot. “Sorry. I’m Conor. So, how long—”
“Have I lived next door? A little over a month.” She pulled her hand away and turned toward the stairwell. “Nice to finally meet you, Conor. See you around.”
“Wait,” Conor said, waiting for Julia to turn back toward him before adding, “You’ve lived here over a month?”
That pulled a big smile out of her. And what a smile. Her whole face seemed to light up. “Yeah,” she said. “Right next door. I waved a few times, but you always seemed to be in a rush.”
Conor smiled sheepishly. A good-looking girl... No. A smoking-hot girl moved in next door and he was too busy to notice. That sounded about right. His mouth went on auto pilot.
“Listen, I been kinda occupied lately. I’m really sorry. I’m not that kinda guy. I’d never—”
When she laughed, it knocked all the embarrassment out of him. “It’s fine,” she said. “No harm done.”
Conor smiled, embarrassed, then said, “If you need anything, I owe you. Just say the word.”
Her smile flattened. She played with her keys for a moment, lost in thought, and then looked up, and said, “Uh, yeah. Sure,” and turned away.
He reached out and touched her arm. “Is something wrong?”
She looked down the hall at the doors to their apartments. “It’s nothing. I just got home and—I don’t know—I have a weird feeling that someone’s in my apartment.”
“Really?”
Julia nodded.
“Why would you think someone’s in your apartment?”
“I don’t know. I just do,” she said.
Conor peered down the hall toward her apartment. Her answer didn’t make sense. But if taking a look made her feel better, why not? “Let me check it out,” he said. “It’s the least I can do after being such a jerk.”
Telling her to stay in the hall, Conor unlocked her door and walked into her apartment.
It was sparse. White curtains on the windows.
A vase of dried sunflowers on the kitchen counter.
He walked into the living room. Above the couch, a painting of a dark-haired girl sitting on a sand dune looking out over the ocean caught his attention.
The scene was painted in a hazy blur. It seemed distant—beautiful, but a little sad. The signature caught his attention.
Julia Terranova.
He glanced toward the open front door, seeing Julia in profile.
This girl was full of surprises.
The rest of the apartment was more of the same—clean and simple.
Some decorative clamshell soaps were in the bathroom.
Art books were stacked on the floor next to her twin bed.
A crease of light blue sheets peeked out beneath the bed’s white comforter.
An easel and a small table arranged with a palette, paints, and brushes were set up in the corner of her bedroom under the only window.
The canvas was blank. The only hint of disorder was a small pile of clothes near her closet.
He walked over and looked at the T-shirt, crumpled Lycra shorts, and worn running shoes.
He walked back to the front door.
“No one’s here,” he said as he entered the hall.
She stepped by him into her apartment. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He stuck his foot in the jamb as she tried to close the door. “Hey, Julia?”
Her face appeared in the crack.
“You’re going to need these,” he said, holding her keys.
He dropped them in her outstretched hand. Before she could close the door, he blurted, “You doing anything tomorrow?”
The door swung open a bit and her face brightened. “Nope. I’m off work. Why?”
“Do you want me to show you around?”
“Sure.”
He stepped away and then looked back with a smile. “I’ll come over around noon. Okay?”
She nodded and then pulled her door shut. He heard her say, “Thanks for checking my apartment. See you tomorrow,” from behind the closed door.
Staring at the closed door, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding, and then walked the five feet that separated his door from hers, jangling his keys, in disbelief that a girl like Julia had lived next door to him for over a month, and he hadn’t even noticed.
He unlocked his door, stepped inside, threw his keys on his kitchen counter, and turned to stare at the wall separating his apartment from Julia’s.
Life was full of surprises. Sometimes they were even good.
* * *
He was almost asleep when his cell buzzed. The mattress creaked as he grabbed his phone from his nightstand. It was Sully.
“Yeah?” he said, sitting up in bed.
“We gotta talk,” said Sully.
“About what?”
“About going big.”
“Oh—really? Let’s hear it.”
“No. In person. You, me, and Fitz.”
Conor looked at the radio clock on his nightstand.
“Uh, it’s a little late. How ‘bout tomorrow?”
“It would be better now,” said Sully. “This can’t wait.”
“I’m beat. Can I call you in the morning?”
Sully huffed, “Fine.” Then he added, “And don’t forget to talk to Mona. When I saw her at the Fox, she got bitchy as hell when I told her you weren’t coming,” before he ended the call.
Conor put his cell on his nightstand. It glowed a moment before going black.
He lay back in his bed, wondering what Sully and Fitz had cooked up.
Probably nothing. It was even money they’d gone to the Red Fox, got drunk, and came up with some half-wit idea that would land them all in jail.
When morning came, they’d forget all about it.
He closed his eyes and settled in under the covers.
If nothing else, it would be fun to hear what they had cooked up . Those two were his brothers, and like any family, they all shared dreams—even if some of them were good for nothing but a laugh.