Page 30 of Cruel Debts (Killers of Port Wylde #4)

TWENTY-SIX

***

It was a nice, sunny day today. The kind of day that made a person sit up and smell the roses, really deep, as they walked to work.

I was one such person.

Miss Everett always planted these huge, hulking roses in her front planter, gargantuan climbing roses that were far too big for the space.

As a result, they crept halfway up the wall of our building, and she and the landlord always fought every blooming season about how she needed to ditch them or tear them down.

She'd argue, he'd threaten, and then nothing would happen.

Mostly because I enjoyed them so much, I paid him extra every month that they were in bloom to let her keep them.

I stopped, like I did every morning, to grab a cup of joe from the local cafe, though they never made it strong enough for me. I didn't know how I knew that, but I knew it just like I knew my name.

Johnny.

My name was Johnny.

The girl behind the counter today was new, a young, smiling thing with perfect teeth, pale blonde hair, and a sassy tilt to her head that reminded me vaguely of someone I'd forgotten.

I met so many people at my job, though, that it was definitely possible I'd seen her before and just couldn't place her.

"Hi there! What can I get for you today?" Her voice was high-pitched, in an annoying way. Even pretty people had a flaw. You might not see it at first, but if you dug deep enough, you could find something wrong with anyone, really.

I laid a ten on the counter and smiled back, hoping to speed up this interaction. "I'll take a tall Americano, double shot of espresso, please, with a chocolate chip muffin."

"Can I get a name for the order?" She held up a cup with a permanent marker, and I opened my mouth to tell her, when my brain stopped short, and nothing came out.

Johnny. Your name is Johnny.

"Ah, just put Johnny on there," I said with a wince, after a few seconds of pure confusion brooded in her eyes. What kind of a man didn't know his own name?

The kind with memory issues, apparently.

"Ah, sure," she said with a chuckle, and she set to scribbling on the cheap styrofoam before turning away to start the drink.

I waited for a minute, then two, then three, and finally, I was the only order left. I watched her and the other girl remake my drink as I watched, and then she called out?—

"Johnny?"

I blinked. Johnny? Who's Johnny?

"Sir?"

I blinked again. "Oh, right, sorry." I was Johnny. Jesus, this shit was getting worse every day. "Distracted."

"Haha, sure," she said, handing the bag with the pastry in it over the counter, then my drink. "Have a nice day!"

It couldn't get any worse, that was for sure.

I had to call my doctor. This shit was getting ridiculous.

For the last week or two, ever since I fell at work, my memory had gone to shit. I was forgetting things like the passcode to the building. The combination to my foot locker in my closet. My name, apparently, in a strange turn of events.

I couldn't let it get any worse. It was scary enough as it was.

The walk to work was longer today than it should have been, probably because I had to take a detour thanks to construction.

These fuckers closed up an entire sidewalk just to peel paint off the side of a brick wall and repaint it.

They'd been at it for weeks. Hell, I knew some guys who could do work like that in their sleep, overnight, and have it brand new the next morning?—

What were their names?

I hadn't had a friend like that in my life for going on six years. Maybe longer. This memory loss made it hard to recall things sometimes.

I'd worry about it later.

"Hi there, Johnny!" Mr. Chen shouted from behind his flower stall, the windows thrown wide open so his cloying scents could mingle with the refuse of this city.

It was one of the only places with a pure aura about it still in this neck of the woods.

And guaranteed, if I needed a pick-me-up, stopping in his little corner store here to shoot the breeze usually worked better than any antidepressant.

But I didn't have time. I was running late.

I walked into the office with seconds to spare, and winced when the manager shouted my name and demanded me to join him in his office.

I missed a day last week. I didn't know what to give him as an excuse that he'd believe. Hell, I didn't believe myself when I told the story to my reflection.

Somehow, I'd borrowed the neighbor's car, driven it twenty miles across town to the Dread River bridge into Khula City, and parked it there.

From there, I walked a mile and a half along the river, and when I came to, when I realized I wasn't where I was supposed to be, I was covered in mud from digging.

I'd been in a fugue state. My doctor told me to take a day off work, rest, and put me on some new meds that I still hadn't taken once.

I hated meds. Especially psych ones. They never did anything for me in the past, I doubted that changed since?—

Since I didn't know when.

All I knew was that whatever my spaced-out ass had been digging for, I hadn't found it. I drove back to the apartment, cleaned up, and detailed the neighbor's car before thanking her and telling her never to loan it to me again.

She didn't ask why, and I didn't say. But I saw the worry in her eyes. The fear.

Something was clearly wrong with me, and I had to sort it out, fast. Or my life was going to get drastically worse, and fast.

When I came home that night, the neighbor across the hall was waiting at my door with a smile and a basket filled with fruit.

As of late, she'd been a more frequent visitor in my life, and though I didn't mind the friendship, I was beginning to think there was something more to her interest than neighborly concern.

I didn't want to be anyone's favorite. I liked staying under the radar. Flying low.

I always had.

"Oh, hi there, Min," I said with a grin. "What brings you here today?"

"Can't I stop in to see my favorite little neighbor?" She held out the fruit basket, a smile on her face as she cocked her head. "This is for you, Johnny."

I blanked for a second. Johnny? Oh, right. Me. "Thanks, Min," I said with a smile, pulling the key out to unlock my door. "Would you like to come in for a minute?"

She bowed to me, like she always did, and shook her head. "No, thank you, Johnny, I think I'll just be going." Her eyes sparkled as she reached for my hand. "But I do hope you're taking care of yourself. Mrs. Delaney said you had an incident last week, and she was worried."

Leave it up to Mrs. Delaney to gossip like the old woman she was. "Oh, I'm fine now, thanks. I talked to my doctor, and he thinks I'm just too stressed at work."

She stepped forward and cocked her head to the side, nothing but genuine concern etched into every line of her features.

"Oh, no, dear, that won't do at all. You've got to take a breather and relax sometimes.

It's important to keep your health in tip-top shape.

Wouldn't want you to get hurt." She looked around, then leaned in almost until our faces were touching.

"Just between us, Johnny, you're not the only one.

I think poor Mr. Jones downstairs is riding the midnight train and just waiting for one wrong cheeseburger to make it his last ride. "

She wasn't lying. Mr. Jones was older, and his heart had never been good to begin with. But when he changed jobs to work the county fair, his diet got worse, too, and now?—

Well, it was inevitable that his food choices would eventually be his downfall. Anyone who couldn't see it was blind. Or pretending to be.

"You sure about not coming in?" I had the feeling she wanted to, but was stopping herself for some reason.

And the gossip? Well, I didn't mind it, but I'd much rather participate inside my home than in the hallway, where others could get the wrong idea.

About me, and about Min. And about the two of us together.

Especially the last part.

"Oh, no, honey, I'm sure," she said in a hurry, tossing her long, black hair over one shoulder. "But remind me next time I see you, and I'll bring you some relaxation tea. I've got some delicious blends that'll take the edge right off your overworked ass."

"Min!" I'd never heard her cuss a day in our shared residency here. I wasn't a prude, but to hear such a pretty woman curse when she hadn't ever before, it was a shock to the system. "That's sailor language."

"Oh, piss," she laughed, swatting me on the arm. "I'm not from here, honey. We've got lots worse back home, and it's way more colorful than your English swear words."

I didn't doubt it. "Well, I'll be heading in, Min." The basket was getting heavy in my arms, and I really wanted to put it down so I could peel one of these oranges and watch some TV. The Thursday shows were my favorites. "Thanks again for the fruit."

"Oh, any time, honey," she rattled off, giving me a wave as she stepped back toward her door. "Remember, I'm only a door away, if you need anything at all, Johnny."

I didn't doubt she was telling the truth. But I wondered if there wasn't a double meaning in those words. If she didn't have plans for me already, and was just too shy to say it out loud.

Did Min have the hots for me?

I didn't plan to ever find out.