Page 14 of Kept
“Most certainly not,” the old woman rolls her eyes, backing towards her door. “I saw a lurker.”
“Well, the offer is there,” Margarita smirks, snatching my letter from me and opening our door – “you call us if you see him, and we will kick his lurking arse.”
“Young women these days,” she shakes her head and closes her door firmly.
We giggle as we enter our apartment and I try to snatch my letter back.
“Just let me do it,” she sighs, walking towards the windows and holding it up to the fading light, as though its secrets will be less painful if viewed through a thin paper veil.
“Go on then.”
I sit on the lounge and press the cushion to my face, too scared to even watch as she opens it, but eventually, giving in, I let one eye peek out as she opens the letter and begins to read.
“Dear Miss Bailey,
Present yourself at 2pm on Friday for an interview at theBoufant Culinary Academy of America. Attend 30 minutes earlier to fill out the requisite application forms. You will be required to give a practical demonstration of your culinary skills.
Sincerely,
Madame Boufant”
We scream simultaneously, and Margarita bowls me over with a hug, just as there is a knock on the door.
Rising I run to the door and throw it open, stepping back and laughing at the look on Officer Reynold’s face.
“Are you girl’s alright,” he asks, one hand on his gun, his body tense.
“Sorry, Officer,” Margarita giggles from the couch.
“We just had some great news,” I shrug, “Are you here about the lurker?”
He frowns and straightens up.
“Yes, actually. Mrs Swinstone has reported a man around the building for a second time. I thought I’d swing by and check everything out.”
“Would you like to come in?”
He looks at me and smiles, and I can’t help it, those baby blues just suck me right in.
“I’m on duty.”
“Well, we would certainly feel safer knowing you were watching us,” Margarita sniggers, seeing my red face, “I’m going out tonight, Josie will be all by herself….”
“I’m on a beat around this area at the moment,” he says, tilting his head to one side and smirking at me, “if you get worried, call. Do you still have my card?”
“Do all officers carry a card?” I smile back.
“No. I’m a special investigations officer.”
“A detective?”
“Not yet,” he winks, “but something like that.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I shake my head at Margarita’s babble in the background.
“She’s going to be cooking,” she says, coming up to stand beside me at the door, “you won’t taste better – the food that is.”
I blush again and almost die of embarrassment at her inference, but just look at him with a ‘you see what I have to deal with’ expression as he smiles, a broad smile showing rows and rows of Captain America teeth.
