Chapter 2

The wind outside was just beginning to howl when John Danziger banged through the doorway of the apartment building. John was a man that liked to bang things. There was a certain satisfaction in the loud unexpected noise. However, since he was also the manager of the apartment building, and didn't want to have to spend all his time fixing doors that he had broken by excessive banging, he limited it to just this one door. And this one door had special reinforcements that he put in himself, to make sure it would hold up to a steady stream of banging.

Today, the banging was because he was cold, damp, and tired. He kept the place in pretty good shape, but with that storm on its way, he figured he'd go out and see to a couple things. Making sure all the gutters were unclogged and flowing the right way was a thankless job, but he rather liked it. Except when nothing seems to go right, and there's a vicious wind pulling at your clothes and your hair, and all you want is to go inside and rest. Then a few thanks doesn't seem so much to ask.

He tugged off his boots and tossed them into a corner of the alcove by the door. None of the other residents in the building put their shoes there, but John liked to think of the entire building as his own, so he was going to put his shoes where he wanted.

Plus, considering what they were usually slogging through, he figured everyone should be pretty happy he didn't clomp up all three flights of stairs in them, leaving behind a trail of things better left unknown.

So, per usual, he climbed up the stairs in his socks. He left a bit of a damp trail behind, because he hadn't expected to be out there when the rain had started, and so had left his raincoat inside. That's what you get for being over-confident. An hour, two max. Ha! Try three and a bloody half.

True had better be happy with some frozen food in a pot, because there was no way he was going to try his hand at cooking anything better tonight.

Three and a half hours. Sheesh. He shook his head as he pushed open his apartment door. They didn't really go for much in the way of locking. The last thing he needed was to be hanging upside down somewhere and have his house key fall into a septic tank or something. At any rate, who was going to rob him?

It's not like they had that much. Who wanted to take some patched up jeans and flannel shirts? John had it on relatively good authority that his choice in shirts was nothing short of pathetic. And since most of his tools were locked up in the shed outside, or downstairs in the basement, there wasn't really much of value in the apartment--some 12-year-old rollerblades (doctored to roll faster and smoother) with lightning bolts on the side, a small TV that someone gave him for free, numerous mismatched kitchen items…yeah, treasure trove it was not.

The unlocked apartment door swung open easily into a well-lit room. One good thing about their apartment, the things that needed to work not only worked, but they worked quite well. He walked around to the kitchen to flick off the light, then headed to the hallway to flick off that light. His daughter was forever leaving lights on. Many times before, he had tried to explain that wasting light wastes money, but since, in practice, he forgot the lights just as often as True, he couldn't complain too much.

He headed down the short hallway towards True's room, expecting to find her there, but her room was empty. Brightly lit, and looking as if a young child was expected back at any moment, but still quite devoid of any human inhabitants.

He asked Vodka where True was, but only received some squeaks in reply. Vodka was a guinea pig, and when True had put "Ginny Pig" on the shopping list, John had remarked that it looked like an alcoholic beverage. Naturally, this led to questions about names of alcoholic beverages, and when True said "Vodka" sounded like a good strong name for a guinea pig, he didn't see the harm in it.

Vodka was not usually prone to intelligent conversation, but through some sort of girl-to-pet bond, sometimes she managed to give some clues as to True's whereabouts. For example, if there were dirty clothes covering Vodka's cage, there's a good chance True was in the shower. If Vodka raced around eagerly when you entered the room, then True hadn't come home from school to feed her yet, or had given her some type of sugar candy (which also meant that True was outside bouncing off of some trees somewhere).

If there were schoolbooks on top of Vodka's cage, it meant that True had homework due and she was trying to make you think she did it already by placing her books neatly in full view of the door. It also meant that True would be hard to find.

No books, no clothes, no racing Vodka. That meant John had to figure out where she went without any help. Surely she hadn't gone outside. John hadn't caught a single trail from her while he was out there. It was cold and windy and with the storm due to hit that afternoon, she'd had strict instructions all day to stay inside the building. Maybe she was downstairs.

Well, he'd go check on her, right after he changed into some drier clothes. In his room he tossed his wet clothes into the basket and made another mental note to do some laundry this weekend. He hadn't remembered last weekend, but eventually if he made enough mental notes, he'd get around to it. He hesitated by the bathroom door.

If True was outside and he had to chase her down, he would just get all wet and dirty again. But if he put clean clothes on over his dirty self, it would require him to wash yet another set of clothes, in the event that he got around to doing the laundry.

He quickly decided that True couldn't possibly be outside, and so he took a few minutes to himself to get cleaned up.

Ten minutes later he was still dripping wet, but now smelling of soap and shampoo. Putting on some reasonably warm clothes, he used the towel still in his hand to take most of the damp out of his curls. Some men thought there was something distinctly girly about his shaggy curly hair. Of course, they didn't think those thoughts anywhere near John. When he was younger, he tried to keep his head shaved close, so those embarrassing locks didn't betray him. But as he got older, he found the crazy halo rather suited his personality. Plus, the girls seemed to like it, so he figured he might as well keep it long. Took less maintenance that way, anyway.

And if occasionally some guy needed a fist in his face, it was a small price to pay, all things considered.

Hanging the towel haphazardly in the bathroom, he tramped barefoot towards the living room. It didn't take him more than a second to realize that if all the lights were still off, True couldn't possibly be in the apartment. A glance out the window showed that the rain was really beginning to come down, and John thought irritably that True must be hanging out with the neighbors, and had forgotten the time.

He threw on some shoes, not bothering to tie the laces, and swinging the apartment door wide open, he headed down the stairs. The Martins lived on the first floor, and were a favorite of True's. He didn't know what anyone could see in that Morgan fellow (John privately thought that if anyone had girly hair, it was Morgan), but Bess was a nice enough lady. She had a nice clean home, always made sure Morgan paid the rent on time, and always had some cookies or some crayons for the kids in the building. And you could always rely on Bess not to let the kids get the cookies and the crayons confused.

He knocked on the door lightly, and only had to wait a moment before Bess's smiling face pulled the door wide.

"Oh, John!" she drawled in surprise. "I wasn't expectin' to see you tonight. Crazy storm we're in for, ain't it?"

John just shrugged. "We ought to be able to tough it out in here. Everything's in working order."

Bess grinned. "Well, with you in charge, of course it is. You know you and True are always welcome here for dinner. It's the least we can do, what with all that time you put into takin' care of all of us." She turned quickly to make a shushing motion at someone in the background.

John assumed it was Morgan, voicing a complaint about dinner guests, and so he quickly put in, "Not tonight, thanks, Bess. Me and True have our own dinner ahead of us." He didn't mention that he had no idea what that dinner would be, but since it would inevitably lead to mention of the wonderful smells wafting from Bess' kitchen, he decided it was best to keep silent. He didn't want to have to put up with Morgan tonight.

"Actually, Bess," he continued, "I was looking for True. I told her not to go outside, and I thought she might have come down here looking for some entertainment."

Bess frowned and bit her lip. "That's funny, John, I should've expected to see her sometime today, too. But I haven't so much as glimpsed her flying by. I'll be sure to tell her you're lookin' for her."

John ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Being a single parent meant you were always on the edge of worry. Nine times out of ten, the worry was completely unnecessary. It was that tenth time that gave you nightmares--thinking it would be the one time you didn't think to worry, and so didn't move fast enough.

"Sure thing, Bess," he thanked her. As he turned to leave, considering his next move, a small voice called to him.

"Mr. Danziger?" The voice was high and a little quavery, and it was only then that John noticed a small head peeking out from behind Bess.

"Hi there, Uly," he smiled at him. "Sorry I didn't notice you there. How's it goin'?"

Uly, always relatively shy around John, looked down at his feet, before he looked up at Bess, wondering. "Uh, Mr. Danziger, I was wondering if you saw my mom come home, yet."

John was about to say he hadn't seen her, but knew that would probably just worry the boy. It was pretty late, and Devon usually picked up her son right after work. But now that he thought about it, he seemed to recall seeing the hunk of metal she called a car sitting outside when he came in earlier. So he told him that, instead.

A big smile crossed Uly's face, and he tugged at Bess' apron. "Miss Bess, does this mean I can go home, now?"

Bess looked a bit unsure, obviously wondering why Devon hadn't come by yet, if she had indeed come home. She looked quickly at John, and then said, "I'm sure Mr. Danziger doesn't mind walking you up real quick, but if she's not there, you come right back down, okay?"

With a nod, he disappeared from the doorway, presumably to gather his things, and John resigned himself to the five-minute delay in his search for True. The kid was plenty old enough to walk himself up the steps, but Devon Adair was a stickler for her rules, and if she said the kid needed an adult to climb a few stairs, he wasn't going to argue.

Come to think of it, True had a number of spills down those stairs, so maybe Devon didn't have the wrong idea.

When Uly came out, John ruffled the boy's head. The kid's hair was almost as curly as his own. One of those crazy genetic things, he supposed. Devon's hair was stick straight, and so was True's. Anyone would think the kids got swapped somewhere down the line.

"Uly, you been growing lately? Seems to me you're about 6 inches taller than the last time I saw you."

The boy grinned up at him. "Maybe one inch." He quickly looked back down at his feet, not sure if he should say anything else.

He liked Mr. Danziger. If anyone had asked him, he couldn't have said why. There was just something comforting about him. He was strong, but didn't try to bully everyone. He was smart, but didn't try to make you feel stupid. He knew how to fix just about everything. And more importantly to Uly, when he talked to you, he looked you straight in the eye. Man to man. Never talked over his head, never thought maybe he was too young to understand.

Uly was going to be nine soon. After nine came ten, and then eighteen wasn't that far off, and he'd be a grown-up. Mom wouldn't understand, but every now and again, he got tired of being fussed over. Bess was okay, but she was just as fussy as Mom sometimes. Uly sighed, as he started climbing the steps. If it wasn't for his stupid asthma, maybe they would both fuss just a little less.

Used to True bounding up the stairs, John was a tad bit surprised to see Uly go up the stairs at a sedate pace. He thought for a minute it must be another Adair family rule, but Uly's little hand gripping the railing reminded him that the boy wasn't quite as healthy as True.

He felt guilt at his brief thoughts of Devon Adair's over-protectiveness. It was easy to think of all children as indestructible balls of energy when your own ran you ragged every day. Uly had severe asthma, and John remembered an incident a few years ago when a frantic Devon had raced down the steps with Uly turning shades of pale colors, gasping in her arms.

The kid couldn't have been more than four at the time, and since then there hadn't seemed to be any problems. But the way Uly was hauling himself up the stairs, John guessed the little body still had a ways to go before running any marathons. He automatically slowed his own stride, trying not to match the boy's progress too obviously.

"So, Uly," John began in a nonchalant voice, the kind grown-ups use when they are pretending to be serious, "given any thought to getting a job?"

There was a pause, and John was treated to a startled gaze from big eyes. Uly didn't know what to make of that statement, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. "Are you going to give me one?"

John had to chuckle at that one. So much for casual conversation. He'd just meant to joke around a bit, but now that Uly mentioned it, he supposed he could find him some things to do. The kid needed something else to fill his days. Maybe toughen him up a bit. "Sure," he answered. "If you're up for it, and had a little free time. I could use another man around here to help me out." He knew he'd struck the right chord when Uly's face lit up with pleasure and anticipation.

"I have time, Mr. Danziger!" The boy's face lit up even further, as he added, "Wait till I tell mom!"

Whoops, strike one, John thought. You should always ask the parent first. "Hey Uly, maybe you should ask her, rather than tell her. You know, just in case she doesn't like the idea."

He frowned at that, recognizing the truth in that statement. Mom probably wouldn't like it at all, actually. He'd just have to find a way around that. He'd find a way to make her understand. He was growing up, and it was time he did a few grown up things.

They had reached the top of the third flight of stairs, and Uly knocked on the door of the Adair apartment without hesitation. John noticed he didn't even bother trying the handle first. That's because Devon Adair never forgot to lock her door behind her. More than once she'd actually locked the door in front of her, actually. Gotten herself locked out, had to get him to haul out the master keys. Well, he supposed there wasn't a price you could put on feeling safe.

The door opened swiftly, and John had the fleeting thought that if you were going to spend so much time locking your doors, maybe you should see who was outside before you opened them.

"Uly!" Devon exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

John had to laugh at that, and answered for Uly, "Sorry ma'am, thought he lived here. I could take him down to the Lost and Found if you'd rather."

There was a moment of silence while Devon debated whether or not she was going to find the comment amusing. When she finally decided on a smile, she said, "Of course not. It's just that Uly knows he's supposed to wait for me to come get him, and not come up here on his own." Her eyes flickered to Uly. "I was a bit surprised, is all."

A quick glance at Uly told John it was up to him to state the obvious. "Well, lady, he wasn't on his own, he very responsibly asked me to accompany him." That sounded irritated. He hadn't meant to sound snappish, but it was a tad bit insulting that the woman could think he wasn't capable of shepherding a nine year old boy up the steps.

This time a real smile from Devon, as she reached a hand out for her son. "Yes, I'm sorry. I suppose I should have thanked you first. Um, thank you."

John noted that the smile changed her face. She looked severe, standing there in her own home, wearing a business suit. But the smile made you think there was a real person in there, and not just a fretful mother. So he shrugged and said, "No problem. What's a few flights of stairs between neighbors? Probably gonna run them a few more times tonight, anyway. Can't seem to find True anywhere."

Devon's face changed abruptly, and she lifted a hand to her face and said, "Oh, dear." Uly had just pushed the front door wide open, and through it, John glimpsed a familiar ponytail swinging at the kitchen table.

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(AN: Thanks for checking out my story, everyone. Reviews and messages and stuff really help motivate me to continue writing. It so happens this one was mostly done, and those last reviews really pushed me to write. Please tell me how you like things, or if you think I need to work on a few things. I didn't mean to end this chapter there, but…well…might as well. I like to keep the chapters similar lengths. Tell me what you want to see…I could always do with some inspiration…)