Page 79 of Locke

“Hey Kali,” he said, looking me over while he stood before me in his crisp designer clothes bullshit. “Kids are already downstairs. I’ve sent a text about dinner and bedtime routine already.”

“Okay,” I simply responded. Before I entered, I turned around and glanced around the street, searching for that black car. I walked from one end of the gigantic porch to the other in case it was just out of sight.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

I entered, feeling rattled because that black car was everywhere, but not today. Why not today? What was he playing at?

Maybe he’s leaving you alone.

Yeah, right.

It just meant he had another trick up his bloody sleeve.

“Yeah,” I eventually answered as Ryan stared expectantly at me. I kicked off my shoes. “I’ll look at the text now.”

“Great.”

Pausing for a moment, I wondered aloud, “Has anything out of the ordinary happened lately?”

He peered at me strangely. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, any men lingering around the place?”

Okay, probably not the best thing to ask. But after Derek’s experience with Locke, it couldn’t be helped.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Am I expecting some ex-boyfriend of yours to be stalking you while you’re at work here, Kali?”

Whoa, whoa. My eyes widened. “No, not at all.”

“Because I can’t have that around my kids—”

“I promise, nothing like that at all.”

“Then why the bizarre question?”

“I care for an old man and someone broke into his unit—”

“Am I expecting someone to break into my house?”

I had dug myself a hole. “No, forget about it, I’m sorry for asking. I just—I was worried, that’s all.”

But Ryan didn’t look happy. He frowned at me, swallowing back his words as he glanced quickly at his watch. I guess his appointment was more important because he irritably said, “Like I said, I texted you the routine, please follow it.”

Nodding, I hurried past him and out of the entrance room. That was like fifteen steps. Who needed an entrance room that needed fifteen steps to walk out of? It made getting away just awkward.

My feet were sore, I’d walked in them all day. As I descended the stairs, I glanced at my feet and noticed I’d worn mismatched socks. One yellow. One light brown. The light brown one had smiling poo emojis on it. Great.

Downstairs was enormous and had a guest bedroom, a gigantic toy room/second living room. Like the upper floor, there were massive windows all along one side with a view of the backyard. A patio door leading to the yard was in the corner where the exercise area was.

The playroom was unparalleled. There was easily twenty thousand dollars’ worth of toys in here. Donatella was building a pyramid with her blocks and Hilfiger had perfected a plane figure built from colourful magnets. The second I dropped down to play with Donatella, he came blazing through, demanding my attention. He knocked the blocks down with his foot which made Donatella scream and throw them at him. He shot her that smirk—that fucking smirk that was suddenly digging under my skin.

“Remember, guys, Santa doesn’t deliver toys to naughty kids,” I said tiredly.

They used to be scared of that simple line, but now they were immune to it. Why would they even care? They had every toy under the sun, and Christmas was how many months away? Santa Shmanta. Fat fuck held no sway here. My head pounded straight away as a fight ensued that I had to quickly break up.

Be nice.

Stop fighting.

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