Page 85 of A Winter in New York

“Well now,” he says. “How are you, Adam, would you like a cup of coffee, Adam, how was your flight, Adam?” He sits down and crosses his legs, throwing his upturned hands out to the sides. “Take your pick. Or shall I just answer all three, save you the bother? Yes, I’d like coffee, you know how I take it.” He ticks it off on one finger. “My flight was fucking long and expensive, and no, I’m not doing so well,seeing as you ask. I lost my job and then my little mouse blocked my number.”

I stare at him. “I don’t have any milk.”

He looks at me and raises his eyebrows, then gets up and crosses to the kitchenette, opening the fridge.

“Oh, look. You do.”

He puts the carton down on the counter next to me, slow and deliberate, and I swallow back vomit, bilious when his distinctive aftershave clogs my air space.

“I’m not making you coffee. I want you to leave. Right now.”

He laughs lightly, as if I made a joke, and bitter, furious tears sting the back of my eyes.

“I missed you, mouse,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulders.

I shrug him off and half run to swing my front door open. “Get out.”

He looks at me like I’m a child trying his patience, and it sends a cold shiver of recognition down my spine. I’ve seen that glance so often before, and I know the unpredictable snap into rage that can follow it.

“I’m not frightened of you,” I say, raising my chin.

“Why would you be?” He laughs. “I’ve never laid so much as a finger on you. Not one you weren’t gagging for, anyway.” He wriggles his eyebrows up and down suggestively, and I watch them in disgust, like two slugs crawling into his hairline.

“If you don’t go, I’ll call the police,” I say. “The station is right round the corner.”

“And say what? My boyfriend came to visit and asked fora cup of coffee?” He holds his wrists out in front of him. “Cuff me, officer, it’s a fair cop.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I say through gritted teeth.

He gives me that warning look again, and I swallow, trying not to let him see how much he’s getting to me. The buzzer goes, and he watches me with interest.

“Expecting anyone?”

Oh shit, no. No, Gio, no.I shake my head, stringing words together out of nowhere and hoping they make sense. “It’ll be the mailman. He buzzes to let me know if he’s left a parcel.”

Adam nods slowly, then crosses to the window and checks.

“Doesn’t look like the mailman.”

Someone bangs on the front door when I don’t buzz it open.

“Iris!”

It isn’t Gio. It’s Sophia.

“Friends of yours?”

“Just someone I work with.”

“Iris, open up!”

Adam puts his head on one side as he peeps outside again and then looks back at me with a scandalized expression that tells me he’s thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Please, we need to speak with you.”

I close my eyes and swallow hard, because that was Maria’s raised voice, not Sophia’s. I want them as far away from this place as possible, but the fact that they’re both here instead of Gio spikes fear through me in case something terrible has happened to him.

“I really need to go and talk to them,” I say quickly, hating my own lack of volume. “Please, Adam, just wait here.”

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