“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his eyes round.
I started picking up dirty clothes from the floor and throwing them out into the hallway. “You
’re going to be spending a lot of time in here, and you can’t lie in this disgusting smell all
day,” I lectured and gave him an ultimatum, “You can watch me go through all of your stuff, or
you can tell me where I can and can’t go, but either way, I’m cleaning your room today.”
I fixed him a couple of sandwiches. With a full belly and incapacitated state, Rocco agreed to
guide me through his maze of a mess. It took us a long time to dig our way out. In the end, I
had stacked three large bags of garbage on the front stoop, had filled the dishwashers to the
brim with newly discovered dirty dishes, and we had five more loads of laundry to do.
Supper came. His room was close to spotless, and I helped him limp into the living room to eat
and watch TV, which, as he explained, was his treat for working so hard all day—talking while I
worked away had been an exhausting task for him.
I knew that Rocco was feeling better when his needs became more extravagant. At some point, he
complained that his voice was getting tired from having to make so many demands and suggested
that I get him a bell so that he could just ring it instead of moving his mouth. I respectfully
declined. I refilled his juice cup one last time and went to bed.
I still hadn’t talked to Griff since the night that he had broken into my room. I threw on a
pair of jeans and a T-shirt and went to check on Rocco before going down to confront Griff. The
kitchen was empty. The house was still hushed. I peeked into Rocco’s room—he was still
snoring. I groaned quietly when I noticed clothes already piled on the floor.
It was sunny out and the guards were out and about, but Griff was not. I could feel their stare
as I walked toward the garage, but I didn’t care if they saw me. I was determined to clear the
air.
I opened the side door into the stifling hot garage and walked past the lineup of cars. The
Maserati had been dug out of the mud and dragged back in. It was hard to tell because of the
extreme amount of mud, but it looked in pretty bad shape: clumps of grass were stuck under the
crooked front wheels, the front fender was also bent and scratched, the driver’s-side mirror
was missing.
I tiptoed up the stairs and could feel the choking humid air get worse as I climbed. Upstairs,
there were half a dozen floor fans running in tandem, which caused the makeshift curtains to fan
in and out of the window sills and sporadically cast rays of light onto the room. A handful of
night guards were sprawled on top of their beds, uncomfortably sleeping in the heat.
From the end of the room, I couldn’t see Griff in his bed. I tiptoed over to be sure. What I
found when I did get to his bed shocked me—not only was he not there, but his bed was
completely empty—devoid of any pillow, sheets, or blankets. There was just a naked mattress.
The areas around and under Griff’s bed had also been cleaned out of his personal effects. Griff
had already left … I realized this in horror … but he hadn’t taken everything with him—still
tucked under his bed was his box of fighting magazines—the nonessentials.
I didn’t care much that he had left me behind or that he had broken his promise to come and get
me before he did leave, but the thought of him walking around in the woods by himself concerned
me greatly.
I dejectedly sat on his bed and ruffled through a magazine, looking for an explanation, until my
peripheral interrupted my train of thought. The garbage bag curtain next to Griff’s bed had
moved with the wind of the oscillating fan. From the second-story window, I noticed someone
walking on the grass by the forest line below. I looked closer and saw Carly walking by herself,
carrying her usual stack of files. She strolled toward the woods, turning onto a shoelace of a
beaten dirt path and disappearing through the tree brush.
A booming voice abruptly raised me from my meditation. “What do you think you’re doing in
here, girl?”
It was one of the line guards, the same one who had informed me that Griff had left with Cameron
a few days before, the same scary one who liked to glare at me. He was standing by the top of
the stairwell, a tall and grossly skinny man. His hair was greased, like it hadn’t been washed
in a few days. Adding to my luck, all of the night guards had been awakened by the man’s roar.
In the moment it took the angry guard to stomp toward me, it occurred to me that coming here
alone, without Griff, had been a really bad idea.
“I was just looking for Griff,” I stammered.
The man approached the bed. “Your boyfriend’s long gone, honey,” he sneered. “Finally got
what was coming to him. Acting like he was better than us … .maybe if he hadn’t been so high
and mighty we would have told him to stay away from the boss’s latest girl. Playing that game
will always get you wacked.”