Thief (3 page)

I make my way back over to the ladder and climb up the four flights until I get to her story. I’m quiet as a church mouse as I move onto her fire escape and peek inside her windows.

There’s a light on in the living room, and I look in there first and see Harper laid out asleep on the couch. The television is on, and she’s got a carton of melted ice cream in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She’s snoring so loudly I can hear it through the glass, and I roll my eyes.

I move over a little to the next window, and there she is. My Tessa. Her bed is on the other side of the room, this window letting in a little of the moonlight. I can’t see her as much as I’d like between her curtains blocking my view and it being after midnight.

The room she’s in looks tight and cramped. The whole apartment is less than a thousand square feet, but I’ve seen the blueprints, and the other bedroom is much bigger with an attached bathroom. I can’t ever figure out why Tessa wouldn’t take the bigger room if this was her place first.

I touch the tips of my fingers to the glass, wishing I could trail them down her soft skin. I’ve never been close enough to her to touch her, but I bet it would be like touching a dandelion. Soft, delicate, and can be broken by the slightest puff of breath.

She’s lying on her side, and the curve of her hip sticks up under the sheets. I want to run my hands over that curve to her waist and wrap my arm around her. I want her thick curves molded against me as I spoon her body into mine. I want my hand overflowing with her big, full breasts as I pinch and pluck her nipples. I need her big, sexy ass cushioning my hard cock as I rest it there, ready to fuck her.

Her lips, a lush cupid’s bow, are parted slightly, and her eyes are closed sweetly as she dreams. Her auburn hair is spread out messily on her pillow, and all I can think about is fisting it in my hand as I thrust into her.

Shaking my head, I try to stop the desire that’s rushing through me. Now is not the time to lose my head.

I lean in closer to the glass, gently pressing my lips against the cool surface, kissing her goodnight from a distance. I take one final look at my angel and move away from the window. Glancing into the living room one last time, I see Harper still in the same position. There has got to be a good reason she’d want to live with Tessa. The only conclusion I can draw from what I’ve seen is that she’s there out of sheer desperation.

I make my way down the fire escape. When I get to the bottom, I grab the ladder and push it back up. We wouldn’t want any creeps trying to sneak a peek now, would we?

I feel a wicked smile on my face as I turn from the building and make my way back to my car.

I’m living on the other side of downtown at the moment, in a warehouse. I like to move around a lot to keep hidden from any enemies who might try to find me. The people who need me for jobs know exactly how to get in touch with me.

There’s an old bar on the East Side. An old guy named Sal works behind the bar. If you go in with my name and a piece of paper, he’ll get it to me. I used to run jobs for Sal back in the day, and he’s about the only person I can trust. I think back to my childhood on the streets and shake my head. No time to dwell on the past.

Getting behind the wheel of my Chevelle, I think of my Tessa. I’ve got to go home and get a few hours of sleep. I plan on introducing myself to my love tomorrow. Her fate has been set. She’s mine now.

Chapter 3

Tessa

^“
A
re you going to eat that?” The breakfast burrito pauses halfway to my mouth as I glance at Harper across the counter in the kitchen. She’s got her eyes trained on her phone as she hurriedly types away at a speed that seems almost impossible. If only she could work that fast on the computer at work, maybe I wouldn’t have to help her out so much. Who she could possibly be texting this early on a Thursday morning, I have no idea, but as always that thing is glued to her hand.

“What’s wrong with it?” I look down at my breakfast burrito. It’s nothing fancy, but it will hit the spot. I popped it in the microwave, and it will mostly keep me full until lunch. I tend to get grumpy when I go without food, and being in customer service, grumpy doesn't bode well.

“It’s fattening.” I look past her to the container of melted ice cream that she went at last night and which is still sitting on the coffee table. The thing is, Harper can eat and eat and eat and she’s still rail thin. I wasn’t blessed with the same gene, but I’d long ago given up caring what I ate. No diet on earth seemed to work, and I didn’t have the energy to worry about it anymore. Not like I was dating. No one was going to be seeing me naked, so I might as well enjoy the burrito. It would probably be the most orgasmic thing I’d experience today.

I go to take my first bite, and Harper makes a disgusted noise. I clench my jaw, and embarrassment hits my cheeks. I can feel the blood rush to my face, making my fair skin light up. I’m not great at hiding my feelings. Everything’s always on display for everyone to see. I might not want to diet, but it still hurts when someone calls you out on your weight. With her one sound, my appetite is gone. Maybe that’s the key to a successful diet. Always try to eat with Harper in the room. You’ll be stick thin in a month.

I drop the burrito onto the counter and move past her towards my bedroom to get ready for work. “I’ll be ready in a second,” I mumble, upset she got the better of me. I thought I got over those silly things like my weight a long time ago, but it seems to be rearing its ugly head lately. This might have something to do with Harper, but my grandma always told me when someone pokes at you, it’s usually their own insecurities showing. That makes me feel bad for Harper. I think a lot of her comments have more to do with her than me.

Why did I ever agree to let her move in here?
Rent,
I remind myself. Also I’m a sucker for a sob story, and I’ve been lonely since my grandma passed. I thought at least having someone around would help push those feelings away, but now three months of living with Harper and I’m not so sure. Harper isn’t the best for conversation. Oh, she can ramble on and on, but she seems to have this way of making me feel like shit about myself.

When she came to me about needing a place to stay, saying that her boyfriend was kicking her out, I felt bad for her. I knew what it was like to feel alone, and I didn’t want anyone else to have that feeling. Little did I know she’s never alone, what with the trail of men always following her. Lately, though, I’ve noticed many don’t stay for long, and I don’t think it’s because she’s asking them to leave.

Her sob story got to me, and plus, I needed the help with rent. I’ve lived in this apartment for as long as I can remember. My grandma raised me here, and I never knew my parents. Over the years, I finally got the story of my parents out of my grandma. She said she had no idea who my father was, and my mother just kind of dropped me off one day and never came back. It stung a little to hear that, but I’m thankful enough to be happy that at least my mother had the decency to give me to someone who cared.

When Grandma got sick my last year of high school, we knew it wasn’t a battle she was going to win. She fought hard, but cancer took her from me six months ago after her body finally gave out. I’d put off going to college to be by her side, wanting to have every moment I could with her before the last piece of family I’d ever had slipped through my fingers.

As she grew sicker and sicker I seemed to become more disconnected with the outside world. I went from work to home, home to work. Nothing in between. One by one, my friends started to trickle off. After she passed away, I looked around and it was then I saw how alone I really was. I wouldn’t change the choices I made, though. I’ll cherish every moment I spent with my grandma.

“I’m catching a ride, so I’ll just meet you there.” I turn to look at Harper, but she still has her eyes on her phone. We always take the train into work together since she moved in as neither of us has a car. I had my grandma’s, but I sold it to help cover the funeral cost. It wasn’t a fancy funeral, but I did the best I could with what we had. It was small, but I bet she’s cursing me for having it to begin with. She probably would have rather I saved the money, but I needed it. It helped give me some of the closure I needed.

“I guess I’ll see you there.” I turn to go back to my room, Harper never once looking up at me. I have no problem taking the train; it’s just a little rude for her to have a ride to work and not offer to take me. I always go out of my way for her if I think something might be helpful, so it’d be nice if she would do the same from time to time. Leading by example doesn’t seem to being paying off with her. But I find Harper to be a little self-centered. Sometimes I wonder if she even knows how she’s acting.

There are times she can be sweet. Like inviting me out tonight to hang out. I don’t have many friends. I had actually hoped when Harper moved in we would get to know each other, and that maybe I’d discover that underneath some of her snottiness there might actually be someone nice under there. That has yet to be seen.

I pull off my pajamas, put on a bra, and slip on a halter dress with a long-sleeved cardigan. I pull on some funky leggings to match and opt for simple boots to go with. I spend most of my day on my feet. I have a small office, but we’ve been short staffed, and I’ve been working the front counter most days. I need shoes that won't kill me by the end of the day when I’m making my way back home on the train.

I trudge to the bathroom and put on a little make-up and pull my hair up into a ponytail, not wanting to mess with it.

When I walk back into the kitchen, Harper is still standing in the same place, staring at her phone, but I know she’s moved because her clothes have changed. Her skirt looks a little short for appropriate work attire, but I keep my mouth closed. I learned the lesson of commenting on her clothes before. She might be quick to give criticism, but she isn’t great at taking it, and her responses tend to come back with a slap to my own ego.

“Well, I’m heading out,” I tell her, grabbing my purse and jacket from the stand by the front door.

“Oh, I’ll walk down with you. Nick should be here any second.”

“Nick?” I’ve never heard her mention this name before. I’m pretty sure it was a Ted the last time we talked about who she was dating. I think it was Ted whose ass I got to meet last week when I walked in to find them going at it right on the sofa. I haven’t sat on the thing since.

This explains why she’s done up more than normal this morning. Her make-up seems to have an extra layer to it.

“Like my dress?” She gives a little wiggle, and I can’t find it in me to give her a backhanded response like she would me.

“It’s really pretty,” I reply, because it’s true. It is pretty, just a little showy for my taste. It would look better at a club than at work.

“You should really let me dress you tonight when we go out. Maybe you could finally snag a man.”

She opens the door and I follow her out, locking it behind us.

“Sure. Sounds like fun.” This is all a first for me. I was shocked she even invited me out to begin with, but now she wants to dress me up. Maybe there is something underneath her hard snotty exterior, and it’s starting to finally show. It may just be that she has walls around her that need help coming down.

I’ve never seen Harper with other girlfriends, and it’s been so long since I had any of my own. It’s worth another chance with her. What do I really have to lose? It couldn’t get any worse than what we have going right now. I’m living with her, and it might make things a whole lot easier if we could be friends. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t need a friend. I need someone. The loneliness seems to be growing each day. While a lot of the grief of losing my grandma has started to fade, the loneliness seems only to be strengthening.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs and exit the apartment complex, I see a man leaning up against a red, fancy-looking sports car. He looks a little rough around the edges, and I have the urge to step further to my left so we can avoid him. I go to take a step as Harper darts right towards him, practically jumping into his arms.