“I thought you said they didn’t know where I was.”
“As far as I know, they don’t,” he said. “It’s still better to be cautious.” He jogged up the stairs ahead of me, pulling out one of the guns he’d taken from Suit. The stairs emitted a series of strained squeaks.
I went after him more slowly.
He tried the doorknob at the top of the stairs. He looked down at me. “The door’s unlocked.”
“Yeah, because I left it that way.” I caught up to him. Now we were both on the landing to the steps.
“You don’t lock your door.” He gave me a look as if I’d just admitted to not washing my hands after I used the bathroom or something.
“It’s Thomas,” I said. “There’s never been a crime here like ever.” I reached for the doorknob.
He put out his arm to stop me. “No. You don’t know who’s in there. I’m going first.”
I rolled my eyes. “Look, you don’t have to—”
“Shh!” He flattened himself against the doorway, holding the gun up against his chest like he was in a 1980s action movie or something. He burst through the door and raised the gun in one fluid motion.
There was a scream from inside.
I hurried past Griffin.
“There’s someone in here, doll,” said Griffin, gun trained on the guy on my couch.
“That’s Clint,” I said. “Put the gun away.”
“You know him?” said Griffin.
“Oh, God, Leigh, why is there a guy in your apartment pointing a gun at me?” said Clint.
“You’re scaring him,” I told Griffin.
Slowly, Griffin put the gun back at the small of his back. He eyed Clint warily. “How do you know Leigh?”
“Are you a cop?” said Clint.
“No,” I said. “He’s, um—”
“Leigh’s bodyguard,” said Griffin. “Her father hired me.”
“Whoa,” said Clint. “Your dad really is paranoid.”
“Listen, Clint, it’s not a good time.”
He got up off the couch. “I was just here to get you back.” He pulled a baggy of white powder out of his pocket. “I owe you.”
“What the hell is that?” said Griffin.
“I thought you said he wasn’t a cop,” said Clint.
I snatched the bag from him. “He’s not.” To Griffin. “It’s drugs, mmmkay?”
Griffin took the bag from me. He opened it, touched it with a finger and tasted it. “Cocaine?”
I rolled my eyes.
“I guess I should be happy it’s only coke,” he said.
“Give it back,” I said.
“You do a lot of drugs?” he asked.
“No,” I said. I turned to Clint. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he said. “I guess I was just thinking we’d do a line together before I left.”
I glared at him. Greedy son of a bitch. He wasn’t here to give me back anything. He wanted to put half of what he owed me up his nose. I wasn’t spotting him any coke, ever again. “It’s not a great time.”
He looked at Griffin. “Yeah. Okay.” He gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. And then he left.
After the door closed, I held out my hand to Griffin. “Give it back.”
“I don’t think so.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What?”
“Who was that guy? Your boyfriend?”
“No,” I said.
“He kissed you.”
“Maybe we slept together once or twice. But there’s nothing between us. We’re friends.”
“You’re drug buddies.”
“Give it back.”
He shook his head. “Coke makes you dumb. You think it makes you more alert, but actually it makes you too cocky too notice if anything’s going wrong. And you blab stuff too. Someone like you really needs to keep her mouth shut. If the wrong people find out about you, you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”