Page 70 of Dirty Filthy Boy
"Yes, that works for me."
"I'll call you when I get there."
"No. Text me." She rattles off her number, and I write it down.
"Okay." I don't know why I'm hushing my voice as well. There's nobody near me. Except for the worm. And, surely he can't hear me three cubicles away.
After hanging up, I switch gears to Mad Dog's story. After all, I'm scheduled to interview him next week. That afternoon, I visit a women's shelter for a series I'm writing. The football stories and women's issues are as different as chalk from cheese, but strangely enough, I love the variety.
That night as I head for Ty's house, a wave of depression hits me. It's my last night with him. I know, it's something I must do. But still.
Tonight, he cooked a big pan of lasagna. As we sit down to eat, he asks, "So, are you all set for the big move?"
"Yeah, I only have the stuff in the closet. I'll pack tonight and put it in the car tomorrow before I head off for work. I'll leave the house key and the remote on the counter."
"Keep them."
"Ty. I can't."
"Keep them. If something happens at your new place, you can always come back here. Please. I'll sleep better."
"Okay."
Done eating, I rinse my dish and put it in the dishwasher. "I better go pack."
"If you need anything, anything at all."
"I'll call you."
Dragging my steps all the way, I head toward my bedroom where it takes me no time at all to pack my meager belongings. Restless and not really sleepy, I call Marigold to let her know what's going on. "I'm moving out of Ty's house."
"You are? Where are you going?"
I provide her with the details of my new place.
"Ooh, The Wellington! You lucky dog." Her voice oozes with awe. "That's one nice building."
"Yeah, it is." Oh, gosh. How very insensitive of me. Here I'm bragging about my new place in a luxury building in a safe neighborhood while she's stuck in a crappy apartment in one of the worst sections in town. A thought occurs to me. Maybe I can talk to Lorena about Marigold rooming with me. "It's a two-bedroom apartment. Way too big for me. Maybe I could talk to the owner about you moving in. If you're interested, that is."
She clears her throat. "Well, actually. My situation has changed as well."
"It has?"
"Yes. Oliver took one look at my place and decided I couldn't live there anymore."
"He did?"
"Yeah. It didn't help that somebody had set a car on fire down the street, and the street was crawling with cops."
"Good God."
"Yeah. He's right, of course. To tell you the truth, I've been having second thoughts about living in the area."
I'd been worried sick about her living in that area myself. "So what are you doing to do?"
"Well, he took me back to his place that night. We spent half the night talking about my life, my future. I faced up to the truth. Teaching at a public school is not really my thing."
"It isn't?"
