Chasing Shadows (31 page)

Schuyler shakes his head. “No. I keep some on
hand for moments like these.”

Awe, is that the sweetest thing ever or what? I
reach up and scratch his head. Qasim sighs. Am I making an ass of
myself? “What time is it?”

Both men check their watches. “9:30” Qasim
says. Schuyler nods.

“Damn it’s early.” I reply.

“Not for me.” Qasim says. “I have to be up at 6
tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

He looks down at me sweetly. “I just came to
say hi. I should go, though. You’ll be alright?”

“Hell yeah, darlin', I’ll be great.”

“See you tomorrow? Condition has a gig Saturday
and practice tomorrow night. Is that okay?”

I sigh and lean on him. “Yes.”

He leans down and kisses me again. How very
nice. When we part, he turns to Schuyler. “Nice to meet
you.”

“You too, Qasim.”

My tall dark, friend slides past the throng of
smokers. I watch him trot down the steps and walk into the alley.
When he disappears from view I sigh wistfully and turn to Schuyler.
“I’ve gotta slow down.”

“What are you drinking anyway?”

“Mint tea.”

“Can I try?”

“Sure, Hon.” I hand him the cup.

He takes a swallow and comes up coughing.
“Christ, what the hell was that?”

I shrug. “Jim Beam, Sprite and peppermint
liquor.” He’s gagging. I laugh.

“No wonder you’re tipsy already. You need some
water.”

“Water is an excellent idea. Let’s go get
some!” I say with gusto.

He smiles. “You stay here and smoke. I’ll come
back with water.”

“Okay.” I watch Schuyler go back into the
house. He has such a nice back. Brown looks great on him. I’m just
replaying his walk in my head, when I feel a cold snap against my
jeans. I look down. The shade is undulating against me. “What?” I
whisper. Then, even over the noise of the party, I hear a door slam
shut. I snap my head towards the noise. It sounded like my back
door. I can’t see it around the bend in the building. I stare in
that direction, straining my ears. I believe I hear footsteps on
the stairs, but I could be making that up. I’m angry now. Who’s at
my apartment? I turn to go in, and I see Ralph. He’s staring at me
with a wary look on his face. Quite abruptly I’m irritated by that
too. I don’t have time for his paranoia. I stalk inside and almost
smack straight into Schuyler.

“Whoa.” He laughs.

“We have to go to my apartment
now
!”

“Okay.” He sounds bewildered, but he follows me
as I do my linebacker thing and push past the other guests. A few
people give us dirty looks but the anger on my face forestalls any
comments. We get out the front door and I turn, digging for my
keys. “What is it?” Schuyler asks.

“Someone was just in there.” I
reply.

“How do you know?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, but they were.” I key open
the door and flip the switch. It makes a bzzt sound and goes out.
“Fucking wiring.”

Schuyler opens his phone to light our way.
“Where’s a lamp?” He hisses.

“Through the bedroom by the next door. “ He
grumbles something but I don’t catch it. We walk slowly through the
tiny vestibule and into my bedroom. Some layout huh? Schuyler’s
leading the way and he trips over something on the floor. What’s on
the floor? I scuff my feet, moving objects along as I go until I
reach the lamp. My, this is familiar. I twist it on. “What the
fuck?!” I shout. The place is trashed. My mattress it overturned.
My drawers have been tipped open, picture frames broken, glass
scattered on the floor.

“You weren’t kidding about the mess.” Schuyler
says.

“Bullshit. I didn’t do this.”

He holds up his hands. “Sorry. I was
joking.”

I look around. What did they steal? I stomp
into the next room and turn on the lamps. It’s just as bad in here.
“Fuck.”

“Wow.”

“Christ. I didn’t know I even
had
this
much stuff.” I’m turning in a circle trying to take
inventory.

“How did you know someone was here?” Schuyler
asks.

I shrug. “I heard my back door
slam.”

His left eyebrow arches. I love that. “Really,
over the noise of the party?” I nod. “Some hearing.”

“A shade might’ve helped. This one’s been
clinging to me all night, well, since the subway.” I gesture at my
leg. Schuyler looks but doesn’t seem to notice anything.

“What’s that?” He points.

I hadn’t noticed it. What with the cupboards
being opened and emptied, and the fridge open, and my books thrown
everywhere, I’d missed it. In the center of the floor is a clear
spot about three feet in diameter. Sitting very neatly in the
middle of the circle, is a gardening spade with a piece of paper
taped to it.

“Huh. I don’t own a spade.” I cross to it and
pick it up. The note is written in block letters. It
says:

YOUR COUSIN WAS A WHORE. KEEP DIGGING AND
YOU’LL DIG YOUR OWN GRAVE.

I laugh, loud and long. “This is hilarious!” I
toss the spade to Schuyler. “World’s cheesiest death threat.” I
laugh some more. “Douche bag.”

Schuyler reads the note and a little smile hits
the corners of his mouth. “Who’d you tell that cousin story to?
This is serious though,” He says. “We should call the
police.”

I wave my hand at him. “Nah. What’re we gonna
tell them? Somebody gave me a shovel.” I say in my spooky
voice.

Schuyler laughs but he’s trying not to. “It’s a
spade.”

“Ha! Take a long ass time to dig my own grave
with an itty bitty spade.”

“Sheesh, Meegan.” He says. “It’s corny but it
is
a death threat.”

“Whatever. The Home Depot killer can blow me.”
I sigh. “Let’s clean up this mess... Not that you have to help. You
can just watch me work if you want to.”

Schuyler shakes his head. “Really, we should
call...”

I interrupt him. “Than I’d have to confess
everything, and what am I going to say? I followed some twitching
shadows and orbs of light 'til I found a murder victim. That’s not
gonna fly. They’ll lock me up.”

He stares at me. “There are worse places you
know. At least you’d be safe.”

“I’m safe right now.” The shade makes a little
whispering sound, and skitters up to my waist. Without another word
I cross into the bedroom, stand on my box spring and try to
maneuver the mattress back into place. “Schuyler!” I
shout.

“I’m right here.”

“Sorry, Schuyler.” I say in a reasonable tone.
“Would you check my bag please and see if my net book’s still
there? It’s in the foyer.”

“Sure.” He picks his way over the mess and back
towards the front door. “Still here. I don’t think spade man made
it to the foyer.”

I nod, grunting as I wrestle with the mattress.
“Thanks.”

“Here, let me help.”

“Thank you.” Together we set the bed to rights.
“He stripped the sheets. What’s that about?” I comment angrily as I
shake them out.

“I hate to be obvious, but he was looking for
something.”

I groan. “That was
too
obvious. Here,
will you help me put this on?” I hand him one side of the fitted
sheet. We make the bed and I start picking my clothes up off the
floor while Schuyler gets my dresser back together. I set the
clothes in a pile on the bed and begin picking up all the other
flotsam and jetsam, putting what I can away, and gathering the rest
into a trash pile. “At least its a little apartment.”

“Where do you keep trash bags?”

“Under the sink, but I guess now they could be
anywhere.”

“Broom and dustpan?”

I gesture with my head. “Next to the back
door.” For the next hour or so, Schuyler and I move systematically
through my place putting things up, bagging trash, sweeping and
even mopping because spade man spilled my trash and there were
coffee grounds in it. “I should get a really big dog.” I
say.

Schuyler laughs. “In this shoebox of an
apartment, a big dog would go crazy, chew you’re couch to
shreds.”

I nod. “A vicious cat?”

He smiles. “We can hit the SPCA tomorrow if you
want.”

I smile back. “Maybe next week or something.
Where would I keep a litter box?”

“In the foyer.”

“It would smell like cat shit in
here.”

Schuyler ties off our third trash bag. “That’s
true, but what a small price to pay for peace of mind.” I giggle.
“Will you let me call the cops?”

“No.”

He puts his hands on his hips. “I don’t think
you’re taking this seriously enough.”

“Whatever, Dad.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t dismiss me like that. I’m not being
unreasonable.”

I cross the room and wrap my arms around him.
“Sorry... Will you spend the night? You can have the
bed.”

Schuyler runs his hand over my head. It’s a
long minute before he answers. “If you’ll clean the
tub.”

I laugh. “Sure thing. I’ll do it right now.
Will you take the trash down? Dumpster’s right beyond the
steps.”

He grins. “Fine.” I release him and he opens
the door. Cleaning the tub only takes about five minutes. I don’t
know why I’ve been putting it off so long. I use lots of bleach. It
smells clean enough to make my eyes water. When I’m done, I lean
back on my heals and turn my head. Schuyler’s standing in the
bathroom door watching me. “You should stay at my
place.”

I press my lips together. I can hear the party
pretty loud right now. Staying with Schuyler doesn’t seem like a
bad idea... except that I’m taking this home invasion thing as a
challenge. It would be quitting to leave now. “I just cleaned the
tub man. I’m staying here tonight.”

Schuyler smiles. He doesn’t look surprised.
“You take the bed then.”

I shake my head. “You’re too tall for my little
couch. You’ll never get comfortable.”

He shrugs. “We’ll work it out later.
Movie?”

I grin. “Sure. What do you want to
see?”

“I noticed
Zombieland
out
there. I’ve only seen it once.”

“Yeah I could watch that again.”

“You hungry?”

I stop and consider. “I think so.”

“I’ll order Chinese, unless there’s something
else you want.”

“No man, Chinese sounds great. I want egg rolls
and beef n’ broccoli.”

“I saw menus on your desk. I’m assuming they
deliver here.”

“Far as I know.”

As he’s crossing back to the bedroom where my
desk is, he stops to pick the spade up off of the couch. “What do
you want to do with this?”

I smile. “Bronze it.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I think I’ll
take it home.”

I’m suspicious. “Why?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not calling the
cops.”

“Damn straight, you’re not.” Schuyler orders
food and I put the movie in the DVD player. This may sound strange
but
Zombieland
is how I learned about Bill
Murray. Yeah, think on that. When my very best, blondish, man
friend has finished on the phone, we settle into the couch and
press play. Schuyler puts his arm over my shoulders and I curl up
against him. The gray shade eases off of me and dissolves into the
air in front of the TV. I sigh, this is the life.

Chapter
Fourteen

A siren blasts from my pocket, and Schuyler
jumps about three feet. "What the fuck was that?" His eyes are
bugged out and confused. It's cute.

I scramble to shut off my alarm. "Ow." My neck
hurts. Well, I guess neither of us took the bed. We're arranged
oddly on my couch.
Zombieland
's menu is
repeating itself on mute. I reach across Schuyler to grab the
remote and turn it off. "Meds."

"Huh?"

"We set my alarm, so you'd get up to take your
meds."

Schuyler sucks in a deep breath. "What time is
it?"

"8 AM." I sigh.

"Brush your teeth." He groans.

Bitch. I roll my eyes and lay down away from
him on the couch. Schuyler grumbles something and gets up to get
his jacket. I'm guessing his meds are in there. I fall back asleep
and some indeterminate time later he's shaking my
shoulder.

"Meegan... Meegan."

I groan "What?"

"You need to get up and lock me
out."

My eyes pop open. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah. I've gotta go home."

"Okay." I exhale and hoist myself up. Damn. Why
am I so tired? I follow Schuyler to the door. "Bye." I
mumble.

"Bye." He says. "I'll call you
Sunday."