Author's note:
Thank you again for your support for chapters one and two – I really appreciate the votes and the comments. A special thank you to DeathAndTaxes, a brilliant and prolific author, for her help with the Spanish in this chapter.
All characters are fictional adults.
**
An early snow was a blessing.
Not for Mac, of course. Walking for hours in dress shoes through an inch of snow-turned-slush made a frustrating and fruitless job search all the more uncomfortable. But despite the polite rejections and sneering dismissals, he was in good spirits. Friday night was burger night. More than that, tonight was the night that Nadja would escape the confines of the apartment. He was taking her out for the first time since their aborted shopping trip five days ago.
He liked thinking about her. She was the only good thing in his life.
Everything else – his clothes, apartment, finances, job prospects and his future in general – was worthless and depressing. His parole officer was all the way up his ass about finding a job, but no one was hiring – and those who were didn't seem enthusiastic about an ex-con working for them. Rent was due and his prison-earned savings were dwindling fast.
But Nadja's presence was an escape from all that. At least for a few hours each day, she made him feel important and respected – even revered. It had only been a week since he'd 'found' her, and already she was becoming the foundation around which he was rebuilding his life. And that made him uneasy.
He knew the situation for what it was. He hadn't won her over with his charm or looks or wealth. She lived with him because she literally had no better option, and he knew a relationship based entirely on naked self-interest wasn't something he should be building around. But for the foreseeable future she wasn't going anywhere and he couldn't, either. They were both prisoners of circumstance, so why not make the best of it?
His feet were aching and damp and his toes were numb by the time he climbed the stairs to his apartment. Six hours of cold-calling all over town for a job. No success.
On the bright side, no headaches. Maybe the colder weather was helping, or the anger management counseling was working. Or maybe it was Nadja – she was good at diffusing him. But whatever the reason, he only had two really bad ones the past week, and fewer headaches put him in a better mood.
She met him at the door. Sometimes she was scantily clad and seductive but today she was naked and brazen, and he felt an erotic heat surge through him at the sight of her slim body. She was his for the taking and she never let him forget it. 'Anything, any time' is what she'd pledged and she was true to her word, not just accepting his advances but enthusiastically encouraging them.
"I'm glad you're back," she said, smiling and trying to locate his eyes with hers. She did sound happy to seem him, and he was beginning to think it wasn't just an act.
"You look delicious!"
"All yours," she said, then turned a slow circle. She was petite and still a little on the skinny side, but a weeks' worth of solid meals had her looking less fragile than before.
He liked the way Nadja looked. She wasn't a Playboy bunny but she had simple good looks and she didn't need any help from makeup – it was all her. He liked her on the inside, too. Even though she'd clearly been dealt a bad hand and had glimpsed the worst of life, she hadn't become hateful or bitter. He knew there was a lot she was hiding from him, but he didn't much care. He was holding back a lot from her, too. That's how it was in this shitty world; you stowed your own baggage.
They'd been together for a week and other than a few surface questions they'd avoided diving into the ugliest chapters of each others' lives. He knew she'd been a prostitute and it was clear that she'd suffered – badly – at the hands of her pimp. She knew he'd been in prison, with everything that implied. No point in rehashing the gory details. Better to turn the page and leave the past behind.
"Ready for tonight?" he asked.
Her smile faded, replaced by a nervous grimace. "Do I have to do this?"
She'd been protesting burger night in subtle and not-so-subtle ways since he'd floated the idea a few nights back. He understood how she felt about going outside. But she couldn't hole up forever in a one-room apartment.
"No," he said.
She paused. "But it would make you happy."
"Very much."
She breathed a why-me sigh. "I suppose I should get dressed."
He'd been to Wally's and picked out a small pair of women's track pants, a couple of t-shirts in her size and a warm winter jacket. Naturally, none of them fit right – what did he know about picking out clothes for women? He'd also bought a pink toque and a long pink scarf. He figured when she was all wrapped up she'd be unrecognizable. And if not, if her pimp recognized her? Well...apparently he already beat up that bastard once. He'd be more than happy to do it again.
She'd told him about the fight in the alley with Aden and another guy. He still couldn't remember even the vaguest detail about it. The fact that it was unresolved was a concern – what had become of those two assholes? What had he done? And what price would he pay? The police had Mac's fingerprints and DNA on file, so if it got to that point the evidence would lead the cops right to his doorstep.
But a week after the fight, nothing.
Somehow, he'd gotten away with beating up two people in a public alley and then – on foot – abducting a young woman...and he didn't have the foggiest idea how. Maybe his unconscious brain was some sort of criminal mastermind. Too bad none of that brilliance spilled over into his conscious mind!
"Let me grab a quick shower to thaw out first," he said, pulling at his tie to loosen it as he kicked off his shoes.
"No hot water," she said apologetically, as though somehow it had been her fault, "I'm boiling the kettle."
"No hot water – again? Jesus! That bitch said it would be fixed!" Anger began to build as he bent over and pulled his soggy shoes back on, muttering curses toward the building manager. "This is bullshit. There's fucking snow outside and we don't have any hot water? I'm going down there."
"Is that the right thing to do, when you're so angry?"
Mac hesitated. Nadja had developed a way of giving him advice in a tone that made it sound like she was asking for HIS advice. It was strangely effective.
He exhaled loudly, then drew a deep breath and unclenched his jaw.
"No, it would probably be a stupid thing to do," he agreed at last.
"Only if you think so."
"Yeah. Maybe I'll change first, have a cup of coffee," he said.
"Sit on the couch. I'll bring it to you," she said with a smile and a wink.
He quickly shed his clothing and threw on jeans and a sweatshirt. By the time he'd seated himself on the old couch, Nadja had poured him a mug and brought it to him. She returned to the kitchenette. Her movements around the tiny apartment were graceful and sure; she knew her way around perfectly. It was hard to tear his eyes off her naked body as she moved.
He took a sip, then breathed a relaxed sigh and looked around the apartment.
"The place looks good. You've been busy," he said. The windows had been cleaned, the kitchenette was spotless, the bed was made.
"Thank you. I did the laundry, too. The bedsheets, anyway. I could have done it all but I need you to sort it into whites and colours."
"Wait – how did you do the laundry?"
"I remembered you saying that there are machines in the basement," she said, "and I know where you keep your jar of quarters, so..."
"You left the apartment?" He couldn't contain his surprise. She hadn't been outside the apartment since their aborted shopping trip five days ago.
"Yes," she said, and he could hear the pride in her voice. "just inside the building here. I was practicing for tonight, I guess."
"So brave!" He was genuinely impressed.
"Thank you."
"How did you get those washing machines to work? All they ever do is eat my money."
"I asked the building manager about it and she showed me the trick."
He took another sip of coffee. Ask the building manager? There was a novel concept. Why hadn't it ever occurred to him?
