Pursuit by Steve Monroe

Author:Steve Monroe
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504012614
Publisher: Open Road Distribution

Sunday

6:15 A.M.

Elizabeth woke up, eyes to the ceiling. She’d undressed in the middle of the night; her clothes lay in a heap on the carpet next to her side of the bed. Martin slept next to her, on top of the comforter, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Quietly, she slipped her right leg out from underneath the sheet, got out of the bed and picked up her purse. Martin awoke as she hit the door. She turned and caught him staring at her as she left the room. She thought she heard him say, “Morning.”

She walked down the hallway; her bare feet made almost no noise on the carpet. Just before she hit the front door, she turned to her right and entered the bathroom. She flicked the light, set her purse on the floor. She stood up, straight, didn’t bother to check herself out in the full-length mirror—she knew she looked Erin Andrews–keyhole–good. Instead, she locked the door behind her, let the seat hit the toilet hard enough that Martin would hear back in the bedroom. She sat, leaned forward and took inventory. A tall rack, glass shelves full of white towels and GQ magazines. Toothpaste, dental floss, deodorant, shaving cream and a razor on the counter. Another white towel hung over the shower rod. She quietly peeled back the shower curtain: men’s shampoo, a bar of soap and an expensive body wash.

Elizabeth flushed for effect, stood and opened the medicine cabinet. She touched, turned, lifted. Nothing, nothing and nothing. She gently closed the door, ran her eyes over every inch of the bathroom again.

She started to get nervous. It was feeling sketchy. He’d shot down her advances, but that hadn’t surprised her. In fact, it played into her hunch. But, hunches without support were like weather predictions. Her career couldn’t stand warm and sunny if it turned out to be cold and rainy.

She put her nose to the towel behind the door, breathed deeply. She shifted the magazines, looked behind. She opened the doors underneath the sink, squatted and rifled through the contents, tried not to scream in frustration. Shit, shit and shit.

Resigned, she turned to leave the bathroom when she noticed the green corner of something behind the can of shaving cream. She moved the can, looked at the square package. Facial wipes, cucumber and aloe. She smiled, took a plastic sandwich bag from her purse, used a square of tissue to lift the package of wipes, place it in the bag. She closed the bag, dropped it in her purse and went back to the bedroom.

A lie wasn’t necessary; Martin was already up. He sat on the edge of the bed, laced his tennis shoes.

“I’ve got to take a run before work,” he said. He stood up, walked to the window and opened the blinds and city light streamed into the room—sunrise was still half an hour away.

“We could’ve worked out under the sheets.”

“Listen …” said Martin.

She pulled her panties up, sat back on the bed and waited for his act at fumbling.

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