Page 29 of Eyes in the Shadows

On my way back downtown, I make a detour—Petra’s Petals.

The building is so small, I feel like I should be ducking when I’m standing inside. It’s bursting at the seams with greenery and smells so much it nearly gives me aheadache. I walk up to the counter, where a girl with bright green hair and a nose ring is sitting with her booted feet up on the counter, reading a gossip magazine.

When she doesn’t look up, in spite of my substantial presence in front of her, I clear my throat. “I’d like to set up a weekly delivery.”

She glances up, does a double take, then almost falls out of her chair in her haste to drop her feet to the floor and stand. She preens, thinking she’s being subtle—running her hands through her hair and giving it a little fluff in the back, throwing her shoulders back so the deep V of her shirt shows what she’s got, chewing on her bottom lip to give it some color. Sure, in another life I’d have been drawn to her plentiful curves and interesting features. Adornments like green hair and a nose ring have historically promised wild sex and a limited interest in attachments.

“How can I help you?” she purrs. I can see the sexual interest in her eyes.

Shit. I shouldn’t have come in. She’s attracted to me, so she’ll remember me. Time to pivot. “My boss would like to set up a weekly bouquet delivery,” I amend, irritated. “Something big and bright, but with flowers that don’t smell. I was told I couldn’t do it over the phone.”

Recognition flashes across her face. “Right, you’re the guy who called,” she breathes, running a hand subconsciously across her chest, letting it settle in the center, gripping her necklace.

Shit, shit. She’s the one I talked to on the phone last time. I hold out the prepaid gift card, totally untraceable, and try to seem like I’m in a hurry, using a clipped tone and tapping the plastic against the counter. I can’t be rude, that would make me even more memorable. Plus, it’s not her fault—I’m not obviously taken, or wearing a ring. Still, her flirting exasperates me.

“Same address and same delivery company as before, please. Here’s the card.”

She takes it, brushing her fingers against mine very intentionally, and smiles coyly at me. “No other preferences…” her eyes rake down my body, “for the flowers?”

“As long as they don’t smell and it looks good, dealer’s choice.”

As she smiles, the pink tip of her tongue pokes out to swipe across her bottom lip. She bends down, and pulls out an order form from the shelf underneath thecounter. “That’s awesome. We love having creative freedom like that. Fill this out,” she says, turning the paper around to me.

I sigh and glance down at the paper. It has too many questions; I need to be in and out. “No, thanks. Just send as many bouquets as the card will pay for, give yourselves a 20% tip. No note. My boss doesn’t want his name on it.”

She wavers, the seductress act falling to the wayside as she remembers what she should be doing. She turns the paper back to face her and picks up the pen. “Uh… What about delivery timing?”

“Sundays, doesn’t matter when.”

“Okay. Wrapped in paper, standard size? Same as last time?”

“Yup. I really have to get going. Is that everything?”

She sighs, like she’s mourning the loss of the only interesting thing that’s happened to her today. “Yeah. I’ll fill this out for you. Thanks for your business; have a nice day.”

I book it out of there and shake my head as I get back into the sedan. In another time, I would have eaten up her aggression and obvious flirtations. Now, I place one earbud in, sync it up to the feed in Eleanor’s apartment, and listen to my girl milling about as I navigate to the storage facility. I feel a deep satisfaction, knowing she’s safe at home, even if I don’t have eyes on her.

It takes a certain kind of person to not go totally fucking batshit while doing surveillance. Nothing happens for 90% of it, but if you miss that 10% you’ve totally wasted your time. It’s somehow both high stakes and boring. But I think I’ve cracked the code for how to stay awake, and it’s listening to Eleanor’s private life like it’s the best fucking podcast I’ve ever heard.

She has that prick Harrison over for dinner, and I nearly snap the binoculars in my hand. Why does he get to eat her food and enjoy her company? Why is he so special?

After some small talk and friendly banter that better fucking not be flirting, they get into meatier topics.“I don’t think I can live here anymore,”she says softly.

“Really?”the douchebag asks, mouth full of something.“Where else would you go?”

I hear a forkscraping ceramic and I can picture her pushing her food around on her plate.“I don’t know. I guess I was thinking maybe I’d rent a U-Haul and go stay with my sister and figure it out.”

“Whoa,”he says, and I have to agree. I know her sister lives in Pittsburgh, and that’s way too fucking far.“That’s not just, ‘I think I’ll move out of this shitty building,’ that’s another city. That’s a huge change.”

“Yeah, I don’t know…”she inhales.“Maybe it’s time for a change.”

There’s a heavy pause, and when Harrison speaks again, it’s in a soft tone.“Maybe? Um, Ellie, it doesn’t really sound like you have a plan, and that’s not like you. Did something happen at work, or… with that guy?”

I perk up at the mention of me.

“No, he’s… things with him are c-complicated. And work is… okay. I do feel like I’m not really getting anywhere there, though.”

“Why?”

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