Page 11 of Levee

He accepted the enchiladas, but told me to throw away the salad.

I decided to take it with me down to the laundry room to eat while I waited instead of staying in his apartment while his clothes washed. For both of our good, to be honest.

He was short of temper.

I was short on patience.

And it was right there in that dark hole of a room lined in ancient machines that rocked and knocked noisily, sitting on top of the empty table for folding laundry with a sketchpad on her lap, that I found Jade.

She was dressed in a flowing skirt in a pink and white floral pattern with a long slit up one thigh. She paired it with one of those crop tops that, when she stood, would show off a nice chunk of her midriff.

Her long brown hair was pulled up into a claw clip with just a few face-framing strands hanging down.

She was oblivious to my presence. Her warm brown eyes scrunched up as she eyed what she was working on, then quickly erased some part of the image before drawing it again.

As she drew, little gemstone rings on her long, thin fingers caught my eyes.

I waited until she lifted her pencil off the page so I didn’t make her screw something up before I cleared my throat to announce my presence.

“Oh,” she said after jumping slightly. Reaching up, she removed the one earbud she had in, tucking it back with its twin in the little white holder. “It’s you,” she added, shooting me that big, happy smile of hers. Like she was genuinely glad to see me.

“How you been, doll?” I asked, dropping the laundry basket on one machine. I moved the salad to the side, then dumped the laundry into the machine, added a pod, then put the change in the slots.

“I’ve been great, thanks. You?”

“Not bad. Any more incidents with my uncle?”

“Just pushed him up from the lobby the other day. He’s struggling with his chair.”

“Yeah. I got a custom electric one ordered that he’s going to claim he hates for a few weeks before he starts using it. Should only be another week or so.”

“Oh, that’ll be great for him. He could even go outside and get some sunshine. What?” she asked as I raised my brows.

“I don’t think my uncle has willingly gone outside in years,” I told her. “Which, honestly, might be better for the generalpopulation anyway. I got a salad here he turned his nose up at. Wanna share?” I asked, glad I’d decided to bring it.

“Are you a mindreader?” she asked, grabbing her big sack purse, and digging around in it. “I’m starving,” she added, producing a little case, then opening it to pull out a fork.

“That’s handy,” I said, moving over to the table with her, hopping up and saying a silent prayer that the old thing could hold our weight.

“I always bring a little kit with a fork, knife, spoon, and straw,” she admitted. “You’d be surprised how often you find yourself in need of them. Plus, you know, good for the environment,” she added as I pulled off the top of the salad.

I produced my own fork that I’d washed just a few moments before leaving with the laundry.

“Oh, that looks amazing,” she said as I held out the salad, letting her grab a forkful first.

“Eddie makes the best salads,” I agreed, nodding.

“Eddie. Is that your partner?” she asked, making me almost choke on my mouthful.

“No. No. I mean, if I swung that way, I might marry the fucker. But we’re both straight. He just likes to cook for the club.”

“What kind of club?” she asked, then let out a groan as she had a bite.

I went ahead and pretended that sound didn’t go straight to my dick.

“Bike club.”

“Oh, do you guys do competitions?” she asked.

---