Ricochet Read Free Page B

dried
off and got dressed. Full of endorphins and ready to Sherlock Holmes this shit,
I burst out into the hall as Cash’s door was opening. I expected to see him in
his tailored suit and shiny shoes, but was met instead by a tiny brunette in
ripped jeans and a pixie cut. Could she be the screaming girl? She didn’t have
any signs of duress or visible injuries. She was petite and could easily be
overpowered by Cash. She smiled when she met my gaze.
    “Hi!”
she almost squeaked.
    ‘‘Uh,
hi,” I replied awkwardly. What was this feeling? Jealousy? Of course he could
be seeing someone. Did I never think of that as a possibility? There’s a chance
that this woman could be forced into doing things against her will.
    Raped.
    Beaten.
    Tortured.
    And
I’m jealous?   Stop.
    My
internal monologue was interrupted by the ding of the elevator and we stepped
inside. I was too confused at this point to be nervous, and needed to know
where she fit into this mystery.
      “Ground floor?” the girl asked, timidly.
    “Yeah.
Uh, are you Cash’s girlfriend? I’m his neighbor; we’ve not met,” I said,
surprised at my own balls to pose this question.
    “Um,
no, I’m… we’re just friends,” she replied awkwardly.  
    “Oh.
Does he have a girlfriend?” I continued.
    ‘‘I
don’t know,” she replied, “If he does he’s never mentioned it. He lives alone.
I don’t know.”
    I
spent the rest of the day thinking about this interaction. If she was just a
“friend,” why was she leaving at such an early hour? Obviously she had spent
the night. Pangs of jealousy made their way back into the pit of my stomach. I
wonder how many other “friends” he has, and if the screaming I heard was just him showing one of them a good time. Pixie Cut couldn’t be
the screaming woman. Her voice was too small, her vocal chords not capable of
producing those sounds. If Pixie Cut screamed, it would sound like a child
screaming. Which honestly would have been even more horrifying. Maybe I
shouldn’t try to get into his apartment. Maybe I should just go back to
avoiding him. Otherwise I might just end up another “friend,” and I’m not
interested in that type of relationship right now. I’m jumping ahead of myself.
I need to satisfy my curiosity about the screaming woman so I can sleep at
night, instead of fantasizing about what kind of relationship we could end up
having. The plan is back on.
    Upon
returning home, I lingered in the lobby, hoping to run into Cash. I didn’t know
his schedule or what time he got home from work, only that we left at the same
time in the mornings. I decide to go back to my apartment and assess whether or
not he is home. I freshen up, touch up my make up, fluff my hair. I press my ear to the wall. I hear the faint sounds of the television,
but this means nothing. He could have left it on. I go into the bathroom and
check my reflection in the mirror. I hear the toilet flush next door. Good. Someone is home.

Chapter Six

 
      I gathered my nerves, took a deep breath,
and knocked. Cash’s face lit up into a smile when he opened the door.
    “Hey!
What’s up?” he asked.
    “Do
you have plans tonight? I was wondering if you wanted to go halfsies on a
pizza. I really want pizza, but don’t want a whole pizza and, um, yeah. Pizza?”
I stuttered.
    He
laughed and replied, “Sure! I could go for pizza. Come on in.” My eyes scanned
the apartment. It was the mirror image of my own, and looked normal enough. It
was clean. There was a sectional couch and a large flat screen television. There
was a boring rug and sheer, rust colored curtains. Abstract art on the walls.
No signs of a torture den. Yet. His voice interrupted my inspection.
    “So,
what do you like on your pizza?” he queried.
    “Huh?”
I asked.
    “Um.
What kind of pizza?” he laughed.
    “Oh.
I don’t care. Cheese and sauce on bread I can pick off whatever I don’t like,”
I stated, dismissively.
    “Let’s
play it safe, Pepperoni?”