Page 55 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Jason

D espite its bleakness, the Pliny Building is a sensory overload.

Whiffs of stale cigarettes and burnt food overtake me as I enter the foyer. Canned sitcom laughter pours through the walls, drowning out the meows of the cat darting through my legs. Trash spills onto the floor from the bin in the corner.

I stand in a mixture of shock and awe at my surroundings—and at the fact that Chloe lives here.

This isn’t safe.

What the actual fuck?

My anxiety level rises, and my instincts kick in. I want to check for threats and secure the premises. Then I want to get my target out of here.

I rarely fight my instincts. But, today, I must.

The door swings shut in the distance, the sound rattling through the empty lobby. A long hallway extends before me, and another lies to my right. A front staircase splits the middle but is blocked off by yellow caution tape.

I spy a laminated map of the building tacked to the bulletin board by the stairs.

4A. Down the hallway and then up the back stairwell .

My senses heighten as adrenaline pulses through my veins.

Nothing about this feels right—the building, the man with a mustache watching me through an open door on my left, or the fact that I’m showing up to Chloe’s uninvited.

But the idea of Chloe being here feels wrong, too. And that propels me down the hall and up the rickety stairs until I’m standing in front of apartment 4A.

A wreath wrapped with pink flowers and vines hangs in the center of the door. It’s a startling contrast to the surrounding gray walls. It’s so Chloe.

Before I can decide my next move—something I should’ve already done—the door opens, and a woman with short, unnaturally black hair is staring at me.

“ Oh .” She looks me up and down. “Who are you?”

Fuck . “I was just, uh …”

“Are ya lookin’ for Chloe?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“Because who else is a man like you coming around here to see?” She chuckles, aiming her head into the apartment. “Heya, Mabel. There’s a man here to see Chloe.”

“A man? What kind of man?” a voice calls from somewhere in the distance.

“A cute one.”

“Well, what are you waiting on, Greta? Send him in.”

“All right. I’m heading out now. See you tomorrow. Call if you need me.” Greta holds the door wide open. “Go on.”

I start to object and blurt out that I am leaving but stop short of it. I’ve come this far. I have to know Chloe and her grandmother are okay.

“Thank you,” I say, slipping by her.

I take a deep breath and assess the situation. A picture of Chloe is on a little table beside the door. In it, she sits next to two women and wears a happy, carefree smile.

“I’m in here,” a woman’s voice calls from around the corner.

Here goes nothing.

My heart pounds, at war with my brain, as I slide farther into Chloe’s space.

There is no going back now.

“Well, look at you.” A woman sits in a brown recliner with a quilt over her lap and a book of crossword puzzles in her hand. Her purple shirt matches the bruise on her head. The infamous Mimi. “Have a seat.”

She motions toward a sofa, so that’s where I sit.

“I’m Jason Brewer, Chloe’s boss. I apologize if I’m interrupting.”

“I know who you are. I’ve heard much about you and seen your picture a few times.

” She grins. “I’m Chloe’s Mimi, and you’re not interrupting anything.

You saved me from Greta. She just drones on and on about her grandson and my granddaughter.

” She rolls her eyes. “That coupling will happen over my dead body.”

That makes two of us .

I chuckle, mostly at the way her eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Now,” Mimi says, setting her crossword puzzle on the tray table beside her. “What are you doing here? I don’t reckon you were just in the neighborhood.”

Few people in the world can read others as well as I do. Mimi seems to be one of those people.

“You’re a straight shooter, aren’t you?” I ask, appreciating how her eyes light up like Chloe’s when she’s ornery.

She laughs, warm and unguarded. “You aren’t going to hit a target if you shoot sideways.”

“That’s true.” I clear my throat. “Chloe didn’t show up to work this morning and hasn’t answered my calls. I was nearby and concerned. So I thought I’d stop by and check on her.”

Mimi smirks before I can backtrack or attempt to smooth over my admission.

“Do you go to all of your employee’s homes when they miss a day of work?” she asks.

A slow smile graces my lips. Mimi winks in return.

“She ran to the pharmacy for more … oh, whatever you call the stuff for swelling,” she says, frowning. “I fell again this morning. Got a knot on my knee to match the one on my head.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and study Chloe’s grandmother.

She’s thin and frail, with pale skin and silver hair. There’s a pride about her—a sense of unapologetic dignity—and despite her stature, she has a maternal presence that steals your attention.

She reminds me a lot of my grandmother.

“Are you okay?” I ask her. “Did you see a doctor?”

“Nah, I’m fine. I mean, I won’t win any beauty pageants for a while, but I’ll survive.”

I grin, nodding at my realization. “I see where Chloe gets it.”

“What? Her beauty?”

I laugh. “That and her stubbornness.”

“Well, maybe.” She chuckles but places her palm lightly against the bump on her head and winces. “It’s hell getting old, Jason.”

A piece of my heart splinters, hurting for this woman.

I imagine seeing my mother like this someday—a strong, vibrant person weakened to a ghost of herself. It kills me. At least I’d have my siblings there to shoulder some of it and share the experience.

Chloe has no one.

As if she can read my mind, Mimi nods knowingly. “I wasn’t always a broken old lady, you know. I wasn’t always a liability.”

“I’m certain Chloe wouldn’t appreciate hearing you talk like this.”

I glance at the door. How long until Chloe returns?

Now that I know what’s going on, that Chloe isn’t sick and no one’s hurt, the part of me focused on protecting her switches back to protecting my own skin. Because if Chloe catches me in her apartment, talking to her grandmother, I’m not sure what will happen.

With the adrenaline from earlier now dissipating, I’m not sure I want to know.

But I can’t interrupt Mimi.

“And I’m certain you’re right. Chloe wouldn’t like this one bit.

But that doesn’t make it any less true,” she says.

She sits back, resting her head against the chair.

“I’ve lived a good life. Married a decent man.

Raised a daughter who made me proud. Got a brilliant granddaughter who I love with all my heart.

I worked hard. I traveled. I did some things that I sit around now and think about and wonder how the hell I didn’t get murdered. ”

She laughs softly, gazing off into the distance.

I don’t know her well enough to discuss her life and feel awkward getting so personal. But something tells me she needs to talk about it. And I’m already here.

“It sounds like you enjoyed yourself,” I say.

“Oh, I did.” Her gaze pulls to mine. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

She watches me intently, pinning me to the sofa.

I begin changing the subject, but her mouth presses into a tight line.

Okay, then . I take a deep breath. “No.”

“A boyfriend?”

I catch a laugh before it escapes my throat. “Um, no.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I am a heterosexual.”

She chuckles. “Good to know. But why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

I’m knocked sideways by this line of questioning. I definitely didn’t see it happening today, let alone from her. But the question is direct and matter-of-fact, and Mimi clearly expects an answer. I’m not about to disrespect her by evading it.

“I don’t date,” I say, going with an easy excuse. “I don’t have a lot of free time.”

She smiles to herself. “That’s a lie, but I won’t press you on it.”

“What do you mean I’m lying? You just met me ten minutes ago,” I say, amused.

“Honey, I didn’t get to be my age and not learn anything about people. A man like you? Everything you do is intentional. Am I right?”

I don’t know what to say, but I feel it’s a rhetorical question, anyway.

“So let me ask you this,” she says. “If everything you do is intentional, why are you really here?”

The room stills, and her question hangs in the air. It’s like a grenade spiraling toward the ground, ready to explode on impact.

“I talked to Chloe last night,” I say, my voice low. “I heard a man yelling, and she sounded upset.”

Mimi’s expression darkens.

“And she mentioned you’d fallen yesterday,” I add. “When she didn’t answer me this morning, I had a bad feeling. I guess I just wanted to know what was going on—that you both were okay.”

“Why did you care?”

The smugness in her tone pulls at the corners of my mouth.

“I’m nosy,” I say, grinning.

“Curiosity can do more than kill a cat, you know.” She leans back again. “I think you’re a good man, Jason. So I will tell you something, but you can’t tell Chloe.”

I flinch.

I didn’t come here to get in the middle of family secrets. God knows my family has enough of them for the whole city. But despite my hesitation, I also can’t get up and leave. I’m rooted on this sofa, at Mimi’s mercy.

“Chloe has the best heart of any person in the world,” she says. Her words are somber but tinged with an unmistakable tenderness. “She’s stronger than I ever was.”

Mimi closes her eyes briefly and sighs softly.

“Her mama, my daughter, was sick with colon cancer for three years,” Mimi says.

“Chloe took care of her. She took classes when she could and worked two jobs when she had to, but that little granddaughter of mine never complained. Not once. And when my Beatrice passed, God love her soul , Chloe was holding her hand and singing to her.”

Fuck. My hands wring together as I endure the wrenching in my chest.