Repeat - Kylie Scott Page 0,8
concussion when you hit your head?”
“A mild one.” I shrug. “At least nobody tried to kill me this time. I’ll catch a cab back and rest up, put another ice pack on.”
“Doctor told you not to be on your own, didn’t he? That’s why Frances called me in here,” he says, leaning closer. “But instead of being reasonable, you’ve got to be a pain in the ass about it.”
“Ed, why are you being like this? You don’t want me in your life.”
“You know what I want even less? To have to talk you into letting me look after you for an afternoon, as if it’s something I want and you’d be doing me this great favor,” he says, jaw clenched. “Honestly, it’s like nails scratching down the chalkboard of my soul.”
“Well, that’s dramatic. Here’s your chance to walk away. Take it.”
“Not going to happen. Not when you look like you’ve been running around Nakatomi Plaza fighting Hans.”
“Again, no idea what you’re talking about.”
He just blinked. “It’s one of your favorite movies.”
“Just assume all cultural references mean nothing to me.”
“Really? Huh,” he says, taking a step back. Thank God. “You get to watch Die Hard again for the first time. I’m almost jealous of you.”
For a moment, neither of us talks.
“So, Clem, you want to stand here and fight some more?”
“No.”
“Good. You can lie on the couch with your ice pack at my place. If you feel like it, I’ll put on a movie for you to watch.”
“Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Shop’s closed on Monday. Stop looking for excuses.”
Damn. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“If there was literally any other option presenting itself, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
I sigh, feeling a bit guilty that I was so bereft of friends and he was all I had. “All right. Lead on. And sorry.”
We don’t talk in the car, letting the silence grow nice and long and awkward instead. As previously texted, Ed lives in a big old red/brown brick building in the same cool urban neighborhood as the tattoo parlor. Five blocks away from his work at the most. The condo is on the ground floor.
“This is where we lived?” I ask, following him down the white hallway.
“Yes.”
“I appreciate you doing this.”
“Oh, I can tell. You’re positively overflowing with appreciation.”
And I deserve that. “I don’t want to be indebted to someone who hates me.”
“That why you stopped sending questions?”
“One of the reasons.”
“Yeah? What are the others?” He puts his key in the lock and from within comes barking and the sound of nails scratching. Whatever is on the other side of the door seriously wants out. “Shit, stand back a sec.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Cautiously, Ed opens the door, just enough to stick a hand through and grab the collar of the dog. The dog, on the other hand, wriggles and struggles and fights to get free.
“Gordon,” he says. “Yes, it’s Clem. But that’s enough. Calm down.”
The dog does not calm down. If anything, at the sight of me, his enthusiasm goes up a notch. Gordon is a silver Staffordshire terrier with pale blue eyes and a white stripe down his chest. Step by step, Ed hustles him back into the house. And all the while, his tail whips back and forth in unrestrained joy.
“Close the door behind you,” he instructs me. Then, to Gordon, he says, “Come on, boy. Sit. I know you’re excited, but you got to sit.”
Gordon whines softly, keeping his gaze on me all the while.
“Clem, come over here and let him sniff your hand.”
I do as told, carefully extending my fingers to within range of his nose. But Gordon inches forward, licking my palm and as much of my arm as he can reach. His whole body shakes with happiness and I swear he smiles. I rub beneath his chin, coming closer.
“I’ll let him go in a minute,” says Ed, patting him on the back. “Just want to make sure he doesn’t get carried away and you get knocked over again.”
And while his words seem polite, his voice sounds strained, bitter even. Maybe he thinks Gordon is giving me a welcome I don’t deserve. It might be true, but with the day I’ve had, the dog’s sheer happiness is welcome.
I go down on one knee, all the better to scratch behind his ears. But Gordon decides to go one better and roll onto his back, asking for belly rubs instead. No one has ever been this happy to see