“Why bother? Everything you say is bullshit anyway.”
He stares directly into the peephole as if he knows I’m on the other side, coveting his beautiful, annoyingly perfect face. “You know that’s not true. People make mistakes. This is a really huge mistake, and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I close my eyes, the pervasive ache inside rippling outward. I want so badly to believe him, but I’ve learned my lesson. “But you did, Alex, and you’re right, you can’t take it back. Nothing you say is going to change that.”
“Baby, please. Hear me out.” The desperation in his voice is echoed in his eyes.
“You need to leave.” My words are at complete odds with what my heart wants. More than anything, I want to open the door and do exactly as he’s asked: hear him out. If I do, there’s a good chance I’ll be tempted to give him the second or third chance he’s looking for, and my poor beaten-up heart can’t take that right now.
“All I want is five minutes. Can’t you give me that?”
I have to hand it to him; he’s persistent to the point of infuriation.
I’m about to threaten to call Buck and have him escort Alex out of the building by his balls, when the door across the hall opens. It’s Ms. Bullock. She’s a feisty little old lady with a mop of white, permed hair.
She eyes Alex with suspicion. “Excuse me, young man. Do you need help with something?”
“He was leaving!” I shout through the door.
“Violet, please.” Begging might have worked once, but it isn’t going to now.
I rest my forehead against the door and cringe at the crack in my voice. “Just go, Alex.”
Ms. Bullock takes a long drag from her cigarette and raises her drawn-on eyebrow at Alex. “You heard the young lady. It’s time for you to go.”
Alex rubs a palm over his face and winces. “I’m not giving up on us.”
Ms. Bullock goes back into her apartment, but leaves the door open. Alex returns to the peephole. “I get it if you need more time, but I care about you too much to walk away.”
“You sure have a shitty way of showing it.”
My hand is on the doorknob. Thankfully, Ms. Bullock comes back with a whisk broom. She doesn’t give Alex a chance to leave peacefully. Instead, she starts whacking him on the shoulders.
“When a lady asks you to leave, you leave, dammit!” Ms. Bullock shouts.
God bless her violent, ancient heart.
Alex covers his head with his arms. “Okay! Okay! I’m going.” He stumbles out of my line of sight. “I’m not giving up, Violet. I’ll find a way to fix this.”
“Good luck with that,” I mutter as Ms. Bullock follows him down the hall, still beating on him.
I wait about thirty seconds before I turn the lock and crack the door. Ms. Bullock is still in the hallway, wielding her broom like a sword. From down the hall, Melvin sticks his head out, death metal and rank body odor seeping into the hall with him.
“Is he gone?” I whisper.
She purses her lips and gives her head a quick, almost imperceptible shake. Her cigarette is perched precariously between her lips. Her bright orange lipstick has bled into the creases around her mouth, making it look like a messy starburst.
I hear the ding of the elevator from the other end of the hall. After a few protracted seconds, Ms. Bullock clamps her lips around her cigarette again and takes another haul. Blowing out the smoke in a long stream, she finally gives me the nod. My shoulders drop, and the tension leaves my body.
I unlatch the chain lock and open the door. “Thank you.”
“It seemed like you weren’t all that interested in talking to him. Too bad. That’s one nice looking boy.” Her cigarette bounces between her lips as she speaks. The ash is more than an inch long.
I can still smell a hint of his cologne, even with the pungent cigarette smoke and Melvin’s body odor. “Don’t be fooled by the pretty. He’s bad news.”
“Must be if you’re keeping him out in the hall instead of inviting him to jump in your bed.”
I choke back a laugh. Ms. Bullock is probably my favorite person in the building.
Melvin waves from his door. “Everything okay, Violet?”
I wave back. “Everything’s fine, Melvin. Thanks for asking.”
“You wanna play Guitar Hero?”
“Maybe another time.”
His face falls, but he nods. “If you change your mind you know where to find me.” The door to his apartment clicks softly, his stench lingering in the hall.
“Now that’s a nice boy.” The ash finally falls, landing on Ms. Bullock’s flower print slipper. “Too bad he only showers on full moons.”
“Really?”
She shrugs. “It certainly smells that way. That’s saying something because my sense of smell is almost nonexistent thanks to these.” She points to her cigarette. “Well, dearie, Wheel of Fortune is starting, and I don’t want to miss out on Pat Sajak.”
“Thanks again, Ms. Bullock.”