I was so angry at him that I could barely breathe. I wanted to scream in his face and tell him all about what had happened to me, but I couldn’t go into work. I didn’t know what I could do, actually. I didn’t know if we were safe.
Gage killed that guy. He plunged a knife into his chest and we left him there. The police were probably looking for us since it had to have happened on camera, or at the very least they saw us in the hallways and elevators.
The cops were after us. The mob was probably after us. And there I was, sleeping until eight in the morning.
I looked around Gage’s room. I was surprised that it was actually nicely decorated. It was painted a light gray color, and his furniture was all sleek and modern. His bed was large, and there were old movie posters on the walls. They all had frames, and I smiled to myself when I realized that framed pictures in a person’s home meant that they really were an adult, as opposed to just tacking it up to the wall.
I stood up and opened the door. The smell of cooking bacon assaulted me instantly, and my stomach rumbled. I was surprised that I was so hungry. I walked down the hall and into the open living room and kitchen area.
Standing at the stove was Gage. He looked over his shoulder and waved with the spatula. “Morning,” he said.
“Are you cooking?” I asked incredulously.
“I sure am. What do you want? Eggs? Bacon? Coffee?”
“Coffee. Well, all of the above.”
“Coming right up. Coffee is over there.” He gestured with the spatula.
I grabbed a mug from the counter, poured myself some coffee, and sat at the kitchen table.
I got a good look at his apartment for the first time. There was a large television with a couch and two comfortable chairs, a bookshelf filled with books, a low shelf with what looked like a turntable, and some vinyl records stored underneath it. Paintings and photographs were all over the walls, and I had to admit that it wasn’t at all what I expected. I figured it would be a dump with pictures of sexy, naked women all over the place, but instead it was the home of a man with good taste and decorating sense.
And he was cooking. It was like I stepped into an alternate universe.
“Since when did you cook?”
He shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot of things since you left.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Why does that sound dirty?”
“Because it is.” He walked over with a plate of food. “Enjoy.”
I picked up my knife and fork and took my first tentative bite. But quickly that bite turned into a full-on shoveling contest as I worked to get as much of that delicious food into my face as possible. I didn’t care that he was watching and probably judging me, I was absolutely starving and his cooking was surprisingly good.
When I finished he put another plate down in front of me and took the empty one. I didn’t even hesitate or wonder why he was ready with seconds, I just dove in.
When I finished, he sat down with his own plate and mug, grinning at me. “Satisfied?”
“Wow. I am a pig.”
He laughed. “I had a feeling you’d be hungry.”
“Why? How could a person ever be that hungry?”
“Whenever I go through something like what you went through, I’m always starving the next morning.”
“You’ve been through something like that?”
“Not that exactly. But I’ve seen it before. Guys go through a trauma and need to eat like fucking pigs the next day. Maybe it’s the body protecting itself, I don’t know.”
I nodded, staring into my coffee mug. That he knew all of this stuff said a lot about his life since I left.
I couldn’t imagine how he’d been living. He was a mafia man, constantly in danger, immersed in violence and crime. His life was always one step away from destruction. What I went through the night before was probably a normal month for him.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” he said. “Just so you know. We’re safe here for now, but I have to go see my boss soon.”
I bit my lip and nodded. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to talk about it.
“Thanks, Gage,” I said. “I just, yeah. You saved me. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
There was a short pause as I sipped my coffee.
“You did a good job decorating this place,” I said finally.
He laughed. “Can’t take credit, unfortunately. I was with a decorator for a little while. She did most of this shit.”
“You dated her?”
“Nah, not exactly.”
I nodded, deciding not to press. It wasn’t my business and didn’t matter anyway.
He smirked at me. “Jealous?”