Page 8 of Skeletons in the Closet

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Wait. At the office.”

“You’ll explain at the office?”

“Yes.”

“Then say that.” Tallus chuckled and tipped his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. “You’re still a man of few words. Nothing’s changed.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. The parking for my building was across the street in a concrete structure. Located in a shitty part of downtown, the lot was inundated with vagrants, especially at night. The scent of piss and garbage permeated the air. Graffiti covered every inch of the cracked and pitted walls.

Tallus warily eyed the few slumped bodies sleeping in corners or curled up on broken down cardboard boxes, brown bottles hugged to their chests. I didn’t worry much about my safety since most people didn’t fuck with a guy my size, but I recognized how Tallus grew more alert as we made our way through the parking structure to the street.

He stuck close to my side until we exited the garage and crossed a less-than-busy downtown road. Pylons and A-frame barriers blocked the westbound route, forcing traffic to share the two lanes heading east. Several construction vehicles sat stationary within the barricade, waiting to return to work the following morning. In this part of the city, roadwork was interminable. The noise, the scent, and the dust were never-ending.

The lower level of my building featured more boarded-up windows than not. The empty offices for lease outnumbered the ones housing businesses. Scaffolding with caution signs blocked the front door. The city was supposedly doing repairs on theouter part of the structure, but I hadn’t seen workers in over a year, so I was convinced they’d given up or lost their funding, leaving their mess behind.

We ducked beneath the scaffolding, and I led Tallus inside. Three floors up—via the stairs since I didn’t trust the elevator—we wandered down a long, mildew-scented corridor to the main door of my office/homestead. I couldn’t afford both, so I made do by renting cheap office space with enough room to accommodate a makeshift apartment. It wasn’t exactly legal, but who gave a fuck? No one was policing it, so I took advantage. The arrangement had flaws, but so did my life, and I worked around them.

The plastic sign beside the office door hung crookedly. A decent-sized chip in the bottom corner marked the numerous times it had fallen off the wall—no thanks to my door-slamming habit when I got frustrated, which was often. I straightened the sign and keyed us in.

Tallus hadn’t said much since we left the Jeep, and I found it oddly disconcerting. I remembered him being chattier. He filled the room with his presence and personality, which meant I could stay quiet and watch. What had changed? Was it the time of night? Too much alcohol? Was it because I’d blue-balled him?

Goddammit.It was probably our history. I never should have fucked him.

Was this how it felt for other people when I didn’t contribute to conversations? The silence was unbearable. It itched like a wool sweater on a summer day.

I eyed Tallus as I closed the office door behind us. He scanned the room like it was his first time seeing it. Nothing had changed. It was the same shithole it had always been. Same drab wood-paneled walls. Same industrial brown carpeting. Same rusty filing cabinet, orange plastic chairs in a barely used waiting area,and particleboard desk. Same wash of yellow light from the same floor lamp with the ugly shade.

“Drink?” I asked.

“No thanks.” Warm hazel eyes found mine. A hint of a smile shone from their depths. “I’ve had my fill of alcohol tonight.” Tallus motioned to the closed door of my personal apartment space. “Do you still have the creepy snake?”

“Baby? Yeah.”Why wouldn’t I?

I must have looked confused. Tallus chuckled and shared a tired but flirty smirk before nodding at the desk. “Think you can muster a way to tell me why you hunted me down at Gasoline in the middle of the night and crashed my date?”

The flirty smile had settled my nerves, but the mention of his date reaggravated the situation. I didn’t know why I gave a fuck.

I grunted, snagged one of the orange plastic chairs from the waiting area, and dropped it in front of the desk. “Sit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wasn’t…” I gritted my teeth and shut my mouth. I wasn’t trying to sound like a demanding asshole, but it never failed to come across that way.

The office was as run-down as the rest of the building. The cheaply framed artwork I’d purchased at a secondhand store gathered dust on their frames and did nothing to lighten the atmosphere. The space heater ticked and groaned when I turned it on. The poor thing was on its last legs, but I didn’t want Tallus to be cold.

The view from the window was of a congested city in disrepair. Nothing to see but tall buildings. Nothing to hear but traffic and the odd siren or car alarm. Nothing to smell but smog and pollution, so I kept the windows shut.

Tallus sat, crossing one leg over the other and kicked his foot in a steady bounce. Everything he did oozed confidence. Theman never looked out of place in his own skin. I wondered what that felt like. To be sure of oneself.

His pale complexion showed through the many holes of his fashionable jeans, and I couldn’t help noticing. It was better to stare at his legs than at the span of his exposed chest in his too-tight shirt. Memories of Tallus in a white bathrobe infiltrated my brain, and I shooed them away.

He was too gorgeous for words, and I felt inadequate in his presence. More flawed than usual.

Fumbling, I dug an old-style tape recorder from the top drawer of the desk and set it between us, pointing. “Listen.”

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