I glanced around at the people that lined the courtyard, eyes searching for Reina, but came up short. Then I looked up at the building, counted four floors up and zeroed in on the third window from the left.
The window was cracked, the blinds slanted and the light on in the apartment poured through. She walked past the window, her shadow teasing me and without another thought I walked toward the building. I lifted the caution tape, ignored the cop that hollered after me and stalked through the entrance. The place was swimming with detectives and canine’s sniffing for whatever the fuck they were searching for.
I climbed the stairs, two at a time, until I reached the fourth floor. As I walked through the hallway I noticed some of the doors were open. Reina’s neighbors standing by waiting for word on whether life can continue for those subjected to life in the projects. Most of them were unfazed by what was happening. I bet they see a lot of this shit. I bet half of them are wondering when the cops will be gunning for them.
Reina’s door was closed, locking herself away from the dark shit, only for the king of darkness to demand she let him inside. I pounded on her door, ignoring the eyes of her neighbors and listened as the lock slid out of its place and the door opened a crack.
Her hooded eyes met mine, and I felt the air filtrate through my lungs. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until the moment I saw her. Shock invaded her features as she held my gaze, slowly opening the door a bit more.
“Honey, I’m home,” I whispered, my lips quirking ever so slightly.
Home.
She pushed opened the door fully, our eyes locking as she stepped aside never breaking our gaze.
Sometimes home isn’t four walls.
I stepped toward her, wrapped one arm around her waist and bent my knees a fraction, making our eyes level.
Sometimes home is a pair of eyes and a heartbeat.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” I muttered, my fingers kneading her hip.
“Still wondering if you’re really here,” she said hoarsely.
“No place else I’d rather be, Sunshine,” I admitted. Loosening my hold on her hip, I took her hand and walked inside of her apartment.
I stared at her as she closed the door, drinking her in from head to toe. Her hair fell halfway down her back in waves and she was only wearing a t-shirt that hung off one of her shoulders, revealing her pale skin. Her long legs exposed except for the leg warmers that were scrunched around her calves.
“You do know that your building is on lockdown don’t you?” I asked, lifting my eyes to hers.
“The cops knocked on the door earlier. They’re looking for the guy who shot the woman in apartment 6L,” she said, pointing up at the ceiling. “Two floors up, poor lady,” she frowned then she hiccupped.
I took a step closer, peering at her.
“You answered the door dressed like that?” I accused.
She glanced down at her lack of clothing before she hiccupped again and covered her mouth with her hand.
“No, I didn’t get undressed until after they told me to stay put,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Wasn’t expecting any visitors, as it’s been…I don’t know…a week since the only visitor I have dropped by last.”
“Five days,” I corrected.
“What?”
“You said it’s been a week since I saw you last. Seven days are in a week. I’ve been gone five,” I explained, my patience running thin as I stepped closer to her.
“Oh. Well, thank you for clearing that up,” she mumbled, stepping around me to grab the half-empty wine glass sitting on the table next to her couch.
She took her glass and flopped down on the couch.
“Any particular reason you been drinking?” I questioned, finding it peculiar that the cops were hunting for a murderer and she was sitting calmly in her living room unwinding with a bottle of wine.
“Don’t need a reason to drink,” she commented, tipping her head back and emptying the glass.
I walked around the couch and sat down on the coffee table, leaned over and took the empty glass from her hand, setting it down beside me.
“What’s going on, Reina?”
She stared at me blankly for a moment before leaning forward and grazing my whiskers with her fingertips. I reached up, closed my hand around her wrist, turning my face slightly to press my lips to where her pulse point was.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I probed against her skin.
Her phone vibrated, dancing across the table I was sitting upon. I dropped her hand and lifted the phone, staring at the caller ID and extended the phone to her.
She took the phone, denied the call and threw it beside her on the couch.
“Who’s Dr. Spiegel?” I asked, reaching for her, pulling her closer toward the edge of the couch so her knees brushed mine.
“My shrink,” she admitted, and I remained silent. The only noise surrounding us was the muffled sounds from outside the apartment. She moved to stand, her hands moving to my knees pushing them aside so she could move past me. I grabbed her hand and lifted my eyes to hers.