Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Jade

“You’re a nice girl,” William said in that gruff, grumpy way he always spoke. Like the whole world had screwed him over. And, I guess, if he was still living in a building like this in his golden years, that was likely true. “Stupid name, but a nice girl,” he said, making me barely resist the urge to roll my eyes as I pushed his wheelchair down the hallway toward his apartment.

William lived directly across the hall from me, still residing in the home his father had lived in. And died in a few years ago, I was told by the super when I moved in, face grim, looking more than a little perturbed by the idea.

I dunno. I guess when it came to deaths, at home in your own bed at an old age seemed like the way to go. We should all be so lucky.

“Well, I didn’t have a hand in my name,” I said, bending lower to put more of my weight into my push. I didn’t know if I was too weak, William too bulky for me, or if the wheelchair was faulty, but my arms were feeling like jelly already.

“True,” he agreed. “Got a nephew named Levee. Can you believe it? Stupid fucking name. Stupid fucking kid too,” he said as I resisted the urge to sigh.

What can I say? I wasn’t a fan of listening to people trash-talk others. Especially when the others were family members. But, I guess, if this man was having mobility issues and living all alone with no help, this nephew of his couldn’t be much to write home about.

It never ceased to break my heart how poorly we took care of our elderly. Even if they were crotchety old men like William. I figured if I was old, achy, relying on a wheelchair, and still trying to do all my usual daily living tasks, I’d be grouchy too.

“I have a sibling named Peridot,” I confided. “But we call him Perry,” I added.

“Was your mom a drunk?” he asked, making my brows shoot up.

I had to take a second to make sure my tone didn’t come off as snippy. “No, she was… a bit of a free spirit,” I told him.

“Hippy,” he scowled as I turned his chair around, so I could use my back to push open his door.

“Yeah, I guess that is one way to put it,” I agreed, wrinkling my nose at the odor in his apartment. It was a mix of dust, sweat, cigarette smoke—despite it being a smoke-free building—and that acrid undercurrent of rotten fruit.

“Do you need some help moving onto your chair?” I asked, spying the recliner that, once upon a time, had likely been a beige and white stripe, but time and grime had made it a stained brown shade on the seat and back.

“Not a fucking invalid,” he snapped, making me bite back my instinct to tell him that word was not appropriate anymore. If it ever was in the first place.

I was just doing a good deed.

It wasn’t my place to give the man a lecture in the process.

“Okay then. How about I take the trash with me when I go? I’m heading that way anyway,” I added, hoping to avoid him getting offended again.

“Fine. Whatever,” he said, grunting and cursing as he nearly toppled his wheelchair as he tried to stand.

Stubborn old man, I thought to myself as I went to his small kitchen, an almost exact replica of mine—though my appliances were a solid decade newer and not stained yellow with tobacco residue—and pulled the top off of his trash can.

Checking to make sure he wasn’t looking, I quickly tossed the congealed bananas—a whole bunch!—and fuzzy mandarin oranges into the bag before pulling it out and cinching it. I added a new bag and replaced the top before turning back to William.

“Can I do anything else for you before I head out?” I asked as he lit a cigarette, making me want to flee as quickly as possible. Not much bothered me quite as much as smelling cigarette smoke on my clothes and in my hair.

“Open that window,” he said, waving at one of the ones at the other side of the living room, almost entirely covered in years of grime that needed to be cleaned off to let any kind of sunlight in.

I resisted the urge to clean them myself, reminding myself that it wasn’t my place. Especially when he didn’t seem like he wanted much help.

I rushed across the living room holding my breath, yanking open the window, and wondering why the hell he wanted to let the muggy air in.

“Okay, William, I’ll see you around,” I said, gathering the heavy trash bag. He clearly didn’t get around to taking out often with his mobility problems.

“Yep,” he said, already half forgetting about my existence.

“If you need anything, holler,” I told him, getting nothing but a dismissive wave.

Well then.

Okay.

I moved back into the hall, taking a greedy breath of fresh air. I pulled up some of my long wavy brown hair, giving it a sniff, being glad to find it didn’t reek of smoke.

William’s trash wouldn’t fit in the chute, so I made my way down in the elevator with it, praying it wouldn’t start leaking on the long walk around the building to the dumpsters.

I was just rounding the building when I realized I wasn’t alone.

There, a few yards ahead, standing right near the dumpsters I needed to access, was a trio of men with their backs to me. While a fourth man pulled a man up off the ground by the front of their shirt, and cocked back to punch.

I wouldn’t say I was a particularly brave woman. But I did have a pretty strong sense of fairness in the world. And four against one wasn’t fair. Beating someone when they were already down was also not fair either.

“Hey!” I yelled, staying close to the edge of the building in case I needed to flee.

I might want to help the poor guy being beaten, but I didn’t want to get beaten or assaulted in the process either. I knew all too well the fate of women caught unaware or out at night alone in this neighborhood.

“Fuck,” the men chorused.

One turned back at me, but was quick to turn away. They likely didn’t want to be identified. He slapped one of the others across the chest, and they turned to run.

The one holding the other man up by the shirt dropped him without warning, making my stomach meet my feet as his body slumped to the ground without the support.

The man managed to remember to tuck his chin to his chest before he collided with the concrete, though, letting out a grunt as he landed.

I watched as he rolled onto his side, spitting out bright blood onto the ground, then coughed up some more of it.

Speaking of blood, there was a small river of it running from his nose and off of his chin. More of it was weeping from a nasty gash on his cheek.

The bruises were probably worse than the blood, though. Both of his eyes were getting rings so dark blue they looked black. Another was on his temple. Another still on his jaw.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing forward, still holding the stupid bag of garbage in my hand.

“Fine,” he snapped, curling up into a seated position, barely able to bite back a groan of pain as he did so, and I imagined there were other bruises on his midsection that were hidden from sight.

“Do you want me to call for—“

“No,” he snarled, using the hem of his white tee to wipe some of the blood from under his nose. It was futile, though; more replaced it in just a moment.

“You really should have someone look at—“

“Fuck off, lady,” he barked, getting to his feet and glowering at me before storming off.

Okay then.

Twice in one day I tried to do the right thing and got met with annoyance if not outright hostility.

I sighed, glancing around to make sure the group of men were long gone, then tossing the garbage into the bin before making my way back around the building.

Where I walked right past the battered guy in the foyer. He was stopped at the mailbox, his blond hair falling forward enough to hide some of his black eye, as he stuck a key in the lock of his box.

The one directly on top of mine.

My upstairs neighbor, it seemed.

Nice to meet you too , I thought, then forced that bitterness away as I made my way into the elevator, determined to shut myself up in my room and forget all about these two interactions. I was going to throw myself into my work instead. And call these negative interactions a one-time thing.

I probably should have known better.

But I grabbed a paintbrush and canvas and got lost in my art, happy in the blissful ignorance of the future just ahead of me.