Thirty Bucks for What?
Delaney
At the sound of footsteps behind me, I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Mrs. Stelter had gotten off on the same floor, apparently leaving the elevator just a few moments after I had.
Beyond confused, I stopped and turned around. "Are you following me?"
Her mouth tightened. "No. I'm trying to talk to you."
Her claim was a little odd, considering she hadn't said two words during the elevator ride down. I stared. "Are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious." Her chin lifted. "I have a niece your age, and I don't like what I'm seeing."
"What exactly are you seeing?" I threw up my hands. "Because if this is about the garbage, I already told you, I was just getting a receipt."
She scoffed. "From the trash?"
"Yes, actually."
"Why?"
This wasn't her business. But by now, it was pretty obvious that she wasn't going to let it go until she received a better explanation. I let out a resigned sigh. "Because I'm here visiting my sister, and I thought she might need it."
From the look on her face, she still wasn't buying it. "And who, exactly, is your sister?"
Unbelievable. "Well…if you must know, it's Tessa Sinclair."
Her brow wrinkled. "The girl from 710?" She pointed down the hall toward Tessa's apartment. "The pretty blonde?"
Already, I could see the wheels turning. "Yes."
She eyed me up and down before asking, "Are you sure? She never mentioned you."
My jaw clenched. "Funny, she never mentioned you either."
Totally missing the point, she asked, "And how do I know you're really her sister?"
Oh, for God's sake. "You don't, because it's none of your business."
She drew back. "Well, I'm sorry for being concerned."
Yeah, right. She didn't sound sorry at all, and even the concerned part was debatable.
Even worse, she wasn't quite done. "And Tessa is always so polite." Unlike you. But she didn't say that last part. She didn't need to.
Her expression said it all.
Tessa was pretty and polite.
I was the grotesque trash-grubbing jerk.
I barely knew this woman, but the implication still stung.
I wasn't grotesque. I just wasn't a ten, that's all. And okay, maybe I had been grubbing in the trash, but it's not like I'd eaten a single thing out of that burger bag. I hadn't even opened it.
Was I a jerk?
I guess I could be if I was backed into a corner – or in this case, hounded everywhere I went.
I summoned up a smirk. "Oh, so Tessa never told you to get bent, huh?"
She gave a little gasp. "Did you seriously tell me to get bent?"
Great. And now I felt like a jerk. "Not technically," I hedged. "I did phrase it as a question, remember?"
"Fine. How's this for a question?" She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Are you so desperate that you'll sell yourself to a guy like him?" She said him like I'd been caught locking lips with Dracula.
But this wasn't what had me staggering back. "Wait…sell myself?"
She gave a long, sad sigh. "I guess it makes sense."
I was still reeling. "What makes sense?"
"That you'd start at the penthouse level and work your way down." And then, more to herself than to me, she murmured, "I guess it's a good thing Herb's in Montana. Heaven knows what he'd say if you knocked."
Oh. My. God.
Knocked for what?
Paid sexy time?
When I simply stared, she explained, "He's not nearly as nice as I am." As she spoke, she dug into her purse and pulled out that familiar ten-dollar bill along with a twenty. She thrust both bills in my direction. "Here."
I felt like lighting those bills on fire. "I don't need your money."
"Oh, honey," she said, like she genuinely cared. "We both know you do. Just take it, alright? If Tessa's really your sister, I can just get the money back from her the next time I see her."
Good Lord.
So the money to keep me from prostitution was what? A freaking loan?
Plus, what kind of nookie could someone buy for thirty bucks? I mean, I knew I wasn't a ten like Tessa, but surely even I was worth a lot more than a cool thirty.
Before I could overthink it, I'd already said, "Thirty dollars? That wouldn't even buy a handy in the park."
She froze. "A handy?"
Oh, crap. Quickly, I said, "Never mind."
She was still clutching her purse in one hand while holding out the bills in the other. But now she was glaring. "No. I demand to know what you mean."
Damn it. I lowered my voice. "You know." I gave her a meaningful look and whispered, "A handy." And then, to illustrate the point, I formed a fist at hip level and made the tiniest little jerking motion.
She recoiled like she'd been slapped. "What on Earth are you doing?"
"Showing you what you asked." I made a sound of frustration. "You demanded to know, remember?"
She glowered down at my fist as if I were still jerking away. Newsflash. I wasn't. In fact, it wasn't even a fist anymore. It was a basic hand, unclenched, doing nothing at all.
And yet, you'd never know it by the look on her face as she yanked the thirty dollars out of my reach like I'd been on the verge of mugging her.
As she shoved the money back into her purse, she said, "I don't know why I bother. You know what? Maybe you two deserve each other."
And with that, she turned and marched back toward the elevator.
I stared in confusion. You two deserve each other?
Obviously, she didn't mean Tessa, who was too "polite" to deserve a trouble-making sister like me.
She meant Maddox.
Huh.
However long they'd been neighbors, the relationship was obviously rocky. There was definitely a story there.
And as soon as I returned to my Monopoly date, I was determined to hear it.
But first, I had to deliver that food. As I entered Tessa's apartment, I was already making a list. Warm up the food. Deliver it nice and hot. And return to Maddox.
Simple, right?
Not hardly.