Page 38 of Shades of Silver City

Deciding to remain where I am, I cross my arms and scan the apartment. The place is small—it’d be a tight squeeze for even two people—but based on the varying sizes of shoes by the door, I’m willing to bet more than two people live here.

Sofia, Ma, and me—and oftentimes Godric as well, whose own parents would go on benders and accidentally leave him locked out—stuffed ourselves into a two-bedroom apartment about this size downtown when I was a boy. Those were deplorable circumstances that I remember all too well.

But through it all, our place was always clean and neat. Sofia made sure of it. She always looked out for Ma, taking as much off her shoulders as she could.

I’m shocked it’s been such a challenge to get Tasia to accept my offer. The money I’ll pay her would surely get her out of this environment.

“How long until she’s back?” I ask, glancing at my watch.

Stace shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Any idea where she is?”

“I dunno.”

I’m about to depart when one of the doors off the living room flies open and a shirtless man steps out. His reddish hair sticks up in all directions. He scratches his chest, yawning obnoxiously. When he spots me, his mouth clamps shut and he goes rigid. A curvy, curly-haired woman crashes into him from behind.

“What the hell, Reed. Move.” She pushes past him, wrapping her raggedy robe tight around her body.

Reed.

The boyfriend.

My chest squeezes for Tasia.

“Where’s Tasia?” I ask Reed, narrowing my eyes at him.

He glares back. “Who the hell are you?”

“I asked you a question.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. “Yeah, about my girlfriend.”

My eyes flit from him to the girl beside him—who closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“It’s interesting that Tasia thinks so highly of you,” I say. “All things considered.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His face turns as red as his hair. “Who the hell are you? And why is my girl chatting about our relationship to you?” He straightens, squaring his shoulders.

“Maybe if you spent more time with her, you’d know why.”

I move toward him until we’re practically chest to chest. I don’t often like to use my glamour outside of work, but at times like this, it comes in handy.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I ask in a low voice, “Where is Tasia?”

He blinks a few times, indicating the persuasion is working effortlessly.

“I don’t know,” he mutters.

He doesn’t know? She could be in danger. The Scouts could’ve picked her up. And this jackass is sleeping with her roommate instead of looking for her.

Something I haven’t felt in a long time—fear—crawls through my veins.

“Tasia deserves better than you,” I say, tightening my jaw. Then I turn to the girl at his side. “You deserve better than this moron, too.”

She gives me an appraising look, then strides past me. I turn, catching Stace staring at me from the raggedy couch, her mouth hanging open. “I think I’m in love,” she mutters.

The other girl snorts as she rifles around the kitchen cupboards, searching for something.

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