Page 13 of The Gentleness of Rage

Icouldn’t sleep and was awake when the sun rose. Weariness finally took me over about nine in the morning, and I woke around mid-afternoon. No sooner had my eyes opened I dashed into the shower to wash all over again. After scrubbing for an hour, even when the water ran cold, I left the cubicle.

None too bothered what I looked like, I dressed in yesterday’s clothes and brushed my hair.

“Didn’t think you were ever coming out,” a man spoke, and I leapt backwards with a shriek and grabbed the nearest item for a weapon. A lamp.

“It’s Slate!” the guy exclaimed, and I gazed at him.

“Stop breaking into my home!” I snarled, putting the lamp down.

“Your security is crap. I’ve brought some locks and stuff to make it better,” Slate said, waving to a bag.

“What?” Had I fallen into the twilight zone?

“Jaelynn, this apartment has shit security. I can make you more protected here—and will.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“Your safety,” Slate answered.

I gazed at Slate and saw the confusion on his face. Was this man for real?

“Are you telling me you don’t require anything for payment?”

“Like what?” Slate replied, his eyes narrowing.

“A blow job or sex?”

Slate looked me up and down, and I almost cringed. Yeah, I didn’t look my best. He shook his head. “Feel sorry for you.”

“What?”

“Jaelynn, I’m fuckin’ sorry that nobody has ever done you a kindness without wanting something back. Babe, you were attacked last night, ain’t no man who’s a real man gonna push you for sex. A real man is going to ensure you feel safe, so you aren’t under a shower for an hour scrubbing your skin raw. Now sit down, shut up, or fetch me a drink. Don’t care which, but I’ve got work to do!”

Bemused, I gaped at Slate as he picked up the bag and began emptying it. He pulled out locks and tools and, without another word, started fitting a window lock.

“I’m three stories up,” I pointed out.

“Don’t give a fuck. Person might get to you from the apartment above,” Slate answered.

Who thought like that, I wondered? Clearly, the answer was Slate.

Slate spent the new couple of hours adding to the poor security my place offered. I watched Slate the entire time, unsure what his motive was.

“Can I have a drink?” Slate asked after an hour.

“I’ll check what I have,” I replied. Damn, I hadn’t been shopping and probably only had tap water. Money had been tight, and it had been a struggle to pay rent this week. Shit, I had to find another job tomorrow.

“Stay there, I’ll look,” Slate said.

“No! I’ll do it,” I cried, knowing what Slate would see.

Slate frowned but kept heading for the small kitchen area.

I closed in my eyes in embarrassment as he opened one cupboard after another. A noise left his lips, and I cringed.

“Where’s your food? There’s only ramen in here. And there’s fuckin’ cockroaches, Jaelynn,” Slate growled out.

“None of your business,” I said quickly, attempting to disguise my mortification.

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