Second-Story Man by Robert P. Rowe

Author:Robert P. Rowe [Rowe, Robert P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2015-05-19T16:00:00+00:00

AFTER LUNCH, I was sitting on the ottoman, staring out the window, trying to be quiet while Michael worked. I was also trying to sort out a few things in my head. I was going over what Jackson had said—all of the guys at the bar knew Michael loved me. I guessed he also meant they all knew I loved Michael too. How could they know that? I didn’t know that. I doubted that was what Michael thought.

Sure, there was our conversation at the gazebo last night, when Michael said so many intimate things to me—make that sweet intimate things. I’d never heard anybody say such nice things to me. I’d never said anything like that to Rosie. But he’d ended it by telling me I need to find the right girl.

That wasn’t all. Michael had said the same sort of things to me the night of his birthday. I’d blown him off. I didn’t say that kinda stuff to Michael—but I thought it all the time. I couldn’t look into his eyes and not find myself pulled in. Those piercing green eyes, with a golden starburst surrounding the pupils, cut straight into my soul. I could never lie to them, because I knew they saw the truth, and they drew me in to tell it. I kept looking deeply, hoping to see the reflection of me in his eyes—just like that painting in the gallery. Last night he’d practically told me—it was there.

And that Blondie—I’d heard he had a thing for Michael, and I was, what, jealous? When I’d heard Michael wasn’t interested in Blondie, I’d felt… happy. I kept thinking of Michael as my angel. He’d saved me from… who knows what? Or maybe it was just Stockholm syndrome? Maybe I’d somehow fallen in love with my captor?

In love? Was that it?

As if all that wasn’t enough, there was my dream from last night. Make that my nightmare. If this was some kinda love nest, it figured my dad would come crashing in to bust it up—and me up—with his fists. Did I dream about him because I knew all this was wrong? And why didn’t Michael wake up in my dream? Was he oblivious to what was happening here? Was he really expecting the right girl to come along for me? While I was waiting for him to kiss me?

Over and over it all played out in my mind, and Michael worked away at his computer, unaware.

Commotion outside caught my eye. Across the street, at the Deli, I saw that kid, Matt, come out the door like he’d been shoved. Mr. Marinelli was right behind him, yelling something. It sure looked like the kid had been fired. He threw his apron back at Mr. Marinelli and stormed off down the street. Well, his loss could be my gain. I jumped up and pulled off my cargo shorts—make that Michael’s cargo shorts. I needed long pants if I wanted a job. I was jumping around trying to get into my jeans when Michael looked over at me.

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