Page 15 of The Progressions

I knew that, because I went through her pictures all the time and they were amazing. I also remembered how cute she’d looked when I’d seen her in person, even better than on my phone. “I think the stylist does great for her, except for not understanding how seasons work. Your girlfriend always looks beautiful. Don’t you think?” I could admit that, even though I was furious at how she had acted today, how she’d driven away from her responsibilities and left me with the mess.

Surprise, surprise, he didn’t answer my question. The rest of the food did arrive and as we ate in silence, I thought more about what had happened today, about Tyler Hennessy’s responsibilities and about mine.

“I could help you,” I mentioned, when he was scraping the last bite of rice onto his fork. “I could help you with your apartment and with getting situated here.”

“Why?”

“For money,” I said. “I need it and you could pay me, because you need help. You can’t live like that. I can determine if you actually stole that furniture and I can return it, or work out a payment. And I can sell stuff, because it won’t all fit in your condo even though that place is so huge. I can do everything.”

He didn’t respond but I kept going.

“I can organize your possessions and put them away. I could buy towels for your bathroom so you don’t have to walk aroundnaked, and get groceries so you have food in the kitchen. I can clean, because I bet the movers carried in a ton of dirt, too. I can do everything,” I repeated, sure that I could. I would definitely work hard and try to make it perfect for him.

“You just said you were busy with your class and your job,” he reminded me. “You want more work?”

“My class ends next week. If I’m at the complex, I can split my time between your apartment and the leasing office. I have to be on the premises but I’m not always busy.”

“So you want to double-dip, to take money from your current company and from me for the same hours.”

“Exactly,” I said, nodding, and he smiled again. “You make it sound like I won’t do my real job, but I will. I’ve always done two at once.” I had done magazine billing, conducted surveys, and worked for political campaigns. Sometimes it had driven Iva bananas, but she had good headphones.

“How much do you want me to pay you?”

I didn’t have any problem haggling, since I’d been dealing with the topic of money for years—bills, insurance, repairs, and everything else had become my domain when my father had first gotten sick. Tyler didn’t seem to mind arguing either and we went back and forth for a while before, suddenly, he stuck out his hand.

“Does this mean you’re hiring me?” I asked.

“It means I want a place to sleep. Let’s see if you can do it,” he said. “I’ll hire you on a temporary basis to clean up all that shit.”

“You’ll be amazed at what I can accomplish,” I promised, and we shook. I was almost giddy with the thought of what I would do with the extra funds that would be coming in. Now I could quit doing cold calls to sell the heated snow shovels, which were tough to move in the summer months. “Just wait and see. You’ll wonder what you ever did without me.”

He didn’t look very convinced, but he really would see. I’d do such a good job getting his condo and his life in order that he’d want the temp job to become permanent, and maybe I could do it for the rest of the time I had left before law school—or even during that, too. I envisioned Woodsmen players lining up for my services, which could be seasonal for the guys who were only here for a few months. I could specify that in the contract I planned to write up. Maybe the team could even hire me to work with all their new players, like the consultant position that Iva’s boyfriend had wanted at my college. Except, in my case, I’d really get things done.

It was just like I’d told Tyler: they wouldn’t know how they’d gotten along without me.

Chapter 4

It was too quiet in the bedroom. I should have heard the sounds of boxes breaking down and stretch wrap getting sliced, but when I listened, there was nothing. It was suspicious.

Equally silent, I walked from the kitchen toward that room. Things were better now that there was more than just a narrow tunnel in the main area of the condo. You still had to maneuver around extra furniture and unpacked cartons and it still looked messy and overly full, but after a lot of work, it was also a place where someone could live. I was happy to acknowledge that there was much less of a dirty warehouse vibe now.

The bedroom was also improving. After clearing some space, I had brought the blow-up mattress from our model home stuff as a stopgap, so that Tyler had somewhere to sleep. Thinking of Iva and her previous questions about where the sheets might have been, I washed them thoroughly before putting them on and he seemed fine with it.

Yes, so far, the job was going pretty well, but I had needed help with moving some of the bigger pieces. Like the casket, for one—it felt like that was filled with lead, but it couldn’t sit in the middle of the floor and block everything. Also, there had been way too much furniture from the former rental house, so I’d had to put most of it (for now) in an empty unit until I could figure out where it should go permanently. The question remained about whether Tyler wanted to buy it or if we needed to ship it back. Luckily, the landlord out there had been very understanding when I’d spoken to him, an attitude which I personally found hard to grasp. If someone had walked away with my stuff, I wouldn’t have said, “Sure, tell him to take his time and let me know.” I would have called the police, but such was the life of a football star.

So I’d needed help moving that furniture and shifting other pieces around, and I’d turned to a nearby source to get it. He was supposed to be working on removing the rest of the wrap from the stuff in the bedroom and then flattening some of the boxes I had already emptied, but it was still quiet in there and for some reason, the door was now closed.

I turned the handle and pushed it open.

“Oren! Sweet Jesus!” I briefly covered my eyes, but I had to deal with this. “Put it down. All of it!”

He looked at me, unblinking, and let the items fall from his hands. The little wisps of fabric floated back into the box, the one labeled “lingerie.”

“What are you doing with her underwear?” I asked, but I already had a very good idea. “Is that it? Do you have any more?”

He reached into his pockets and pulled out several other pairs, and then, still watching me, he reached down the front of his pants and took out even more. He dropped it all back into the box without breaking his stare.

“Get out of here,” I said. “Get out!” I followed him through the front door, locked it behind us, and went into the leasing office to call Iva.

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