Last Hit(37)

Her eyes widen, and then they brim over with tears. “He just loses his temper sometimes,” she whispers. “He’s really a wonderful man.”

“Even if he is, it sounds like he has issues with control. Can you deny this?”

She says nothing, and I know I have guessed right, and I am saying things she has thought herself. I’m getting through to her, and I’m glad.

“I’m not saying you have to leave him,” I tell her in a gentle voice, even though every part of me is screaming look at the bruises on your neck, Christine, and tell me this is a man that loves you. Tell me you are just not a thing to him, a possession to be owned and kept in its place until he has use for you. “What I am saying,” I continue, keeping my voice calm, even, and logical, “is that you should have someplace you can go when you’re afraid. When you need to retreat for a few hours until he calms down. Doesn’t it make sense to have a place like that?”

She nods and swipes at her eyes, awash with tears. “B-but I can’t afford something like that. I’m not like you. I don’t have extra money. I have to work both jobs just to try and cover tuition. Saul handles the finances. I give him my checks and he takes care of things.”

“You don’t need money,” I say gently. “I’ll gladly help you. Like I said, Nick and I have a building, and it’s full of empty apartments. You can take one, and he never needs to know about it. I promise.”

She shakes her head. “He’ll know. He’ll wonder where I’ve gone if I’m gone for long. He keeps tabs on me wherever I go.”

“Then let’s go now,” I say, getting to my feet. “I have the keys on me. We’ll ditch class.”

Christine stammers. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“I do,” I tell her firmly. I take her hand and draw her to her feet. “My greatest hope is that you’ll never have to use it, but I want it there for you in case you do.”

She thinks for a moment, and nods, a determined look on her face. “All right. Let’s go.”

“Great,” I say. “We’ll take a taxi and be back in time for the end of class. No one has to know.”

Her wobbly smile is the only thanks I get, but it’s the only thanks I need.

I shove cookies into Christine’s hands as we ride in the taxi over to our building. She’s my project, my friend, and a bit of my old self, and I want her to be happy. Once the cab pulls up to my familiar apartment building, I push a handful of money into the cabbie’s hand. “Wait here,” I tell him. “We’ll be gone fifteen minutes, max.”

He nods and puts the car in park, then pulls out his phone to play a game.

I more or less drag Christine into the building after me, my eagerness propelling both of us along. “You’ll like it here,” I babble happily as I push open the door to our empty lobby. “There’s lots of two-bedroom places, but you can have just a one-bedroom for now unless the two-bedroom is what you want. Each apartment has its own washer-dryer hookup and a dishwasher, though not all of them are working. I can ask Nick to check it out if yours isn’t one of the working ones, though. The only other person living in the building at the moment is my dad and his dog, but you won’t meet him. He’s an agoraphobe and won’t leave his apartment.”

She looks around nervously. “This entire building is empty?”

“Yep,” I tell her. “We want to rent out apartments but we’re having a hard time finding the right tenants. But we won’t charge you anything, I promise. You’re a friend.” I beam at her and then lead her up the stairs to the second floor, since the elevator’s on the fritz at the moment.

Once upstairs, I drop by my apartment and pick up the master key, and then the keys to an apartment on the third floor. “We’ll put you in 301,” I tell her as she gazes around my cozy place with something like envy. “You’ll like it. It has a great view and it’s close to the stairs.”

Like a puppy, she follows me as I tromp up the stairs and open 301. It’s clean and neat inside, the walls freshly painted. There’s a bit of furniture here. “My friend Regan stayed here for a time,” I tell Christine. “But she’s moved to Texas with her boyfriend so her furniture’s not getting any use. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you using it.”

Christine steps into the room, staring in awe at Regan’s futon, the beat-up furniture, the horror movie posters she left behind when she moved. “I-I’m not sure what to say, Daisy.”