Boston's Man-Eater

XII

In the middle of watching an episode of Rick and Morty, a knock rapped on my door.

Frowning, even though it was still afternoon, I strolled over and peered through the peephole then saw...nothing.

People must have been fucking with me, probably the annoying twins from downstairs, so I readied myself to continue with my show when the knock came again.

This time, I didn't bother checking, and consequently, the air knocked out of my lungs when the wooden barrier was no longer standing between us.

"Keith, wear your shoes."

"Miss Salander," I recognized with surprise.

Her face was stormy, body language impatient. She really wasn't in the mood for any type of bullshit.

"Tess, I just want to say I'm sorry for—"

Her raised hand interjected, silencing me as the ruffles of her blouse swayed.

"Go and wear your shoes."

I bit my bottom lip, not wanting to further annoy her.

"Where are we going?"

She raised her eyebrow challengingly.

"You want to suspect Marisol about being the bloody murderer because of our decisions, then I'll show you that you have no idea about what you're talking about."

Shit.

"Tess, I'm sorry. I know it's not either of you."

Her response was a stare, plastered onto a grave face that radiated nothing but resentment towards me.

Way to go, "Keith."

"Are you going to get your shoes or what?"

My lips drew into a thin line, and I walked back into my apartment as my head threatened to explode.

I hadn't even known her for three weeks, and yet succeeded in pushing her to hate me.

Sitting on the bed, I wore my white low-cut converse sneakers, looking somewhat decent with a t-shirt and blue jeans on.

Before I exited the door, where Tess was trying very hard to conceal her fury, I switched off the T.V and hurriedly secured my home.

"Where are we going?" I asked again as we walked down the hallway, but the shadows of her anger were the only thing answering me.

And outside, I wasn't so surprised when finding the Rolls Royce with Simon.

"Good afternoon," I greeted and he politely bowed.

Simon was of average height, and his blond hair was garnished with streaks of gray. He was old enough to father Tess and I.

When we arranged ourselves into the night themed car, he piloted into the main street and turned on the stereo.

Tess looked out the window, cornering herself as far away as she could from me, and I helplessly understood.

Clearly these women had every right to feel the way they did because of their experiences, and I had blindingly given them another reason to despise men.

"I'm sorry."

She ignored me again, keeping her gaze onto the buildings speeding past.

Where are we going?

I sighed at the unsavory altercation and followed suit.

The music was low, filling the awkward space as I met Simon's sympathetic stare through the mirror.