Page 56 of Man Seeking Woman

Chapter Fourteen

Ella

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After August left forwork, I poked around his place for a bit, snooping in a few closets and drawers. I didn't find anything I should worry about, not that I really knew what I'd be looking for anyway.

I suppose if I found a gun or a giant knife you might expect to see in a thrasher film, I'd probably go running for the hills. Maybe a secret stash of bloody money or a box full of fingernails, and I'd be nothing more than a very small memory in this place. Thankfully, I didn't find anything like that.

August looked like he led a fairly simple life, aside from the rich and wealthy family part. He had a lot of clothes, and more framed pictures stacked in a closet in the living room. A mantel above the fireplace held a couple pictures of August when he was younger. One where he was holding a fish almost as large as his body. Another one of him taking a sip from a frosty glass of beer and holding a small trophy.

I felt confident that if there was anything there I should be concerned about, I'd have found it. He was not a serial killer from what I could tell, and I was comfortable with the idea I had done my due-diligence and inspected thoroughly.

Taking a shower, I threw on a pair of jeans and a fitted, pink v-neck top. I wasn't much of a makeup wearer, but decided to brush my lashes with mascara and dust my cheeks with a little pop of fairy dust pink. That was the name on the bottom, I just liked the little sparkle on my skin when the sun hit it just right. My hair was tied back into a low bun on the side of my head, and a few loose strands dangled around my face.

Picking up the phone, I pressed it to my ear and listened for a dial tone. I thought it was funny to hear that noise, the distinct annoying buzz that spewed out of the receiver. My grandmother had a land line up until they day she died, and I always felt that I was one of the few people left in the world my age that even knew what a dial tone was.

At twenty-four, by the time I could use a phone, roughly seven or so, cellphones were already a regular home commodity. The younger the person, the less likely they even knew how to use that old contraption hanging on the wall.

Dialing the number August gave me, the phone rang twice, and was picked up by a man I assumed was Jerry. “Be at the doors in five,” he said, the phone going dead, trading the dial tone for an even more annoyingErn Ern Ernnoise.

Placing the phone back, I grabbed my purse and made sure I had put my key inside. The last thing I wanted to do was get locked out my first day. Locking the door, I took the elevator down to the parking garage and, low and behold, there was a jet black Lincoln waiting right outside the doors.

A man emerged from the car as I walked outside, coming around to the passenger side and opening the door. “Ms. Day,” he said, tipping his hat.

“Jerry?” I asked, pointing at him curiously.

“That's me.”

Stepping to the door, I held out my hand for him to take. Jerry looked at me, a layer of hesitance in his stance as he slowly took my hand to shake. “Please, just call me Ella, Ms. Day makes me think I'm teaching.”

“Sure, no problem.” Holding the door open, he let me slip inside and then leaned down to ask, “Where to?”

“A grocery store, I'm in charge of dinner tonight.”

“You got it.” Closing the door, Jerry climbed back into the driver's seat and buckled up. “What are you making?”