A/N: See, told you I update fast. Thank you for the reviews everyone! I don't have the time to reply 'cause I'm busy writing feature articles. -_-"
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
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Told in Orihime's POV
"I don't like the way you're looking at me," Kurosaki-kun said.
"I was wondering what you're capable of doing."
The grin was back. "Most anything."
From what I knew of him, I thought this was probably true. He'd started driving on the dirt tracks of the Texas panhandle, scratching and clawing his way to the top. He had a reputation for being a fearless driver, but I didn't buy into the fearless thing. Everyone knew fear. It was the reaction that made the difference. Some people endured it as a necessity. And some people became addicted to the rush. I was betting Kurosaki-kun fell into the last category.
The wind picked up, the rain slanted into us, and we ran to the building for cover.
"Are you sure you don't want to visit the casa de Ichigo?" Kurosaki-kun asked. "It's not raining in the casa."
"Pass. I need to get back to the apartment."
"Okay," Kurosaki-kun said. "We'll go back to the apartment."
"There's no we."
"Wrong. Until I get my boat back we are definitely we. Not that I don't trust you... but I don't trust you."
I was speechless. I felt my mouth involuntarily drop open and my nose wrinkle.
"Cute," Kurosaki-kun said. "I like the nose wrinkle."
"If you're so convinced my brother stole your boat maybe you should report it to the police."
"I did report it to the police. I flew in yesterday and discovered the boat was missing. I tried calling your worthless brother, but of course he isn't answering. I asked for him at Flex II and found out he'd quit. I tried the dock master, but they have no freaking records left. Blood on everything. How inconvenient is that? I called the police this morning and they took my statement. I expect that's as far it'll go."
"Maybe someone else took your boat. Maybe the guy who killed the night guard took your boat."
"Maybe your brother killed the night guard."
"Maybe you'd like a broken nose."
"Just what I'd expect from a woman named Hime," Kurosaki-kun said.
I turned on my heel, crossed the lobby, and exited through the door to the parking lot. I put my head down and slogged through the wind and the rain, walking in the direction of Fourth Street. Just for the hell of it, I pointed Toushirou's car remote in a couple directions, but nothing beeped or flashed lights.
I heard a car engine rumble behind me, and Kurosaki-kun rolled alongside in a silver Porsche Carrera.
The driver's-side window slid down. "Want a ride?" Kurosaki-kun asked.
"I'm wet. I'll ruin your leather upholstery."
"No problem. The leather will wipe dry. Besides, I'm thinking of trading up to a Turbo."
I scurried around to the passenger side and wrenched the door open. "What do you expect to gain by following me around?"
"Sooner or later, your brother's going to get in touch with you. I want to be there."
"I'll call you."
"Yeah, right. That's gonna happen. Anyway, I haven't got anything better to do. I was supposed to be out on my boat this week."
I wanted to get rid of Kurosaki-kun, but I didn't have a plan. Truth is, I didn't have a plan for anything. Orihime Inoue Girl Detective was stumped. Just pretend it's a transmission, I thought. You take it apart. You see what's broken. You put it back together. Really go through the apartment. Toushirou was friendly. He didn't have a well-developed sense of secret. Surely, he talked to someone. You have to find that someone. You found the key in the dog poop pile, right? You can find more.
Kurosaki-kun made a U-turn on Meridian and pulled into a spot in front of Toushirou's building.
"Thanks for the ride," I said, and I hit the ground running. Okay, not exactly running, but I was moving right along. I was hoping to get into the apartment and close and lock the door before Kurosaki-kun could elbow his was past me.
I got one foot on the sidewalk, and I was yanked back by my purse strap.
"Wait for me," Kurosaki-kun said.
"Here's the thing," I told him. "You're not invited in."
"Here's the thing about driving NASCAR," Kurosaki-kun said. "You learn not to wait for an invitation."
When I reached the front door I tried opening it without the key. If the door had opened, I would have sent Kurosaki-kun in first. The door didn't open, so I unlocked it and stepped inside.
"Someone broke into this apartment," I told Kurosaki-kun. "You can see where they pried the door open, It was unlocked when I got here this afternoon. I don't suppose it was you?"
Kurosaki-kun looked at the doorjamb. "I was here around four o'clock yesterday and again this morning. I rang the bell, but I didn't try the door. I was so pissed off I could barely see. No, it wasn't me." He followed me up the stairs and gave a low whistle at the mess. "Toushirou's not much of a housekeeper."
"Do you think I should call the police?"
"If something's been stolen and you need a report to put in an insurance claim, yes. Otherwise, I can't see where it does much good. I don't see the boat police out searching for my Hatteras."
"I can't tell if anything's been stolen. This is the first time I've visited. The television and DVD player are still here."
Kurosaki-kun strolled into the bedroom and gave another whistle. "That's a lot of condoms," he said. "That's a NASCAR amount of condoms."
"How about giving the NASCAR thing a rest," I said.
He returned to the living room. "Why don't you like NASCAR? NASCAR'S fun."
"NASCAR'S boring. A bunch of idiots, nothing personal, driving around in circles."
"What's your idea of fun?"
"Shopping for shoes. Having dinner in a nice restaurant. Any movie with Johnny Depp in it."
"Honey, that's all girl stuff. And Depp's done some pretty weird shit."
I was going piece by piece, picking through the clutter on the floor. I was torn between wanting to put things away and restore order, and feeling like I needed to keep the integrity of a crime scene. I decided to go with restoring order because I didn't want to believe something terrible had happened.
"Maybe you shouldn't be touching this stuff," Kurosaki-kun said. "Maybe there's something bad going on."
"I'm doing denial," I told him. "Try to be supportive. Help me look."
"What are we looking for?"
"I don't know. A place to start. An address book. A name scribbled on a piece of paper. Matchbooks he picked up in bars."
"I don't need matchbooks. I know the bars Toushirou liked. We went out drinking together."
"Do you know any of his friends?"
"It looked to me like Toushirou was friends with everyone."
An hour later, I had everything put away. Couch cushions were back in place. Books were neatly shelved. Knives, forks, assorted junks, and condoms were returned to drawers.
"What have we got here?" I said to Kurosaki-kun. "Did you find anything?"
"A black lace G-string under his bed. Your brother is an animal. What have you got?"
"Nothing. But he made that phone call to me and he cleaned out his refrigerator. The only thing left is a can of Budweiser."
"Hime, that doesn't mean he cleaned his refrigerator. It means he had to go shopping for more Bud."
"These days most men call me Orihime or Inoue."
"I'm not most mean," Kurosaki-kun said. "I like Hime. Tell me about the phone call."
"Toushirou said he had to leave Miami for a while. I could hardly hear him over a boat engine. He said if some guys showed up looking for him, I shouldn't talk to them. And, he said I should tell you to kiss his exhaust pipe. I heard a woman scream and the line went dead."
"Wow," Kurosaki-kun said.
It was six-thirty, and it was getting dark. It was still raining, I didn't have a car, and all that was standing between me and starvation was a single can of Bud. What's worse, I suspected if I opened it I'd have to share it with Kurosaki-kun.
"Well, do you have any ideas?" I asked Kurosaki-kun.
"Lots of them."
"About how to find my brother?"
"No. I don't have any of those ideas. My ideas run more to food and sex."
"You're on your own with the sex. I wouldn't mind hearing your ideas about food."
Kurosaki-kun took his car keys out of his pants pocket. "For starters, I think we should get some."
I did a raised eyebrow.
"Some food," Kurosaki-kun said.
We went to a diner on Collins Avenue. Kurosaki-kun had beer and I had burgers, French fries and onion rings and chocolate cake for dessert. There were healthier food on the menu but we weren't having any of it.
"The all-American meal," Kurosaki-kun said.
"Did you ever eat here with Toushirou? Do you think anyone knows him here?"
"Pick out the prettiest waitress and I bet she knows Toushirou."
I had a photo with me. A picture of Toushirou smiling, standing beside a big fish on a big hook.
The waitress dropped our check on the table and I showed her the photo.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
"Sure. Everyone knows him. That's Inoue Toushirou."
"He was supposed to meet us here," I said. "Did we get the time wrong and miss him?"
"No. I haven't seen him in days. I haven't seen him hanging out at the clubs, either."
We left the diner under clear skies. The rain had stopped and the city was steaming itself dry.
"You're getting better at lying," Kurosaki-kun said, when we were belted into the Porsche. "In fact, you were frighteningly convincing."
He turned the key in the ignition and the car growled to life. When you grow up in a garage you learn to appreciate machinery, and I got a rush every time Kurosaki-kun revved the Porsche. As vocal as I was about hating NASCAR, I've been to a couple races. Last year I was at Richmond. And the year before that I was at Martinsville. I wouldn't want to admit to anyone what happened to me when all those guys started their engines at the beginning of the race, but it was as good as any man had ever made me feel in bed. Of course, maybe I was just sleeping with the wrong men.
"Now what?" Kurosaki-kun wanted to know. "Do you want to flash that photo some more tonight?"
It had been a long, exhausting day with a whole bunch of terrifying moments, starting with the takeoff from BWI. Nothing had turned out as I'd hoped. My sneakers were wet, my skirt was wrinkled, and I needed a breath mint. I wanted to think that the day couldn't get any worse, but I knew worse was possible.
"Sure," I said. "Let's keep going."
We were on Collins, heading south. The art deco buildings were lit for the night and neon was blazing everywhere. There were surprisingly few people on the street.
"Where's the nightlife?" I asked. "I expected to see more people out."
"The nightlife doesn't start until midnight."
Midnight! I'd be comatose by midnight. I couldn't remember the last time I stayed up that late. It might have been New Year's Eve three years ago. I was dating a guy named Hachiro Hajime. I was a lot younger then. I pulled the visor down to take a look at my hair in the mirror and shrieked when I saw myself.
Kurosaki-kun swerved to the right, jumped the curb, and skidded to a stop.
"Ulk," I said, flung against the shoulder harness.
"What the hell was that?" Kurosaki-kun asked.
"What?"
"That shriek!"
"It was my hair. It scared me."
"You're a nut! You almost made me crash the car! I thought there was a body in the road."
"I've seen you drive. You crash cars all the time. You're not going to pin this on me. Why didn't you tell me my hair was a wreck?"
Kurosaki-kun eased off the curb and cut his eyes to me. "I was worried it was supposed to look like that."
"I need a shower. I need to change my clothes. I need a nap."
"Where are you staying?"
"At my brother's apartment," I told him.
"You're kidding."
"I've thought it through, and it's perfectly safe. It's already been searched. What are the chances of the bad guys returning? Low, right? It's probably the safest apartment in South Beach." I almost had myself convinced.
"Do you have club clothes with you?"
"No."
"I can probably come up with something."
Kurosaki-kun eased the Porsche to a stop in front of Toushirou's building. "I'll be back at eleven," he said.
. . .
. . .
. . .
The last thought in my head was of Kurosaki-kun scrounging a dress for me. He probably had a bunch of them under his bed, rolling around like dust bunnies. It was still in the front of my mind when I woke up. It didn't stay there for long.
I opened my eyes and stared up at a very scary guy. He was at the side of the bed, snarling down at me. Hard to tell his age. Late twenties to mid-thirties. He was maybe six foot four, and his muscles were grotesquely overdeveloped, making him look more science fiction creature than human being. He had a thick neck and a Marine buzz cut. A ragged white scar ran from his hairline, through his right eyebrow, down his cheek, and through his mouth, ending in the middle of his chin. Whatever had slashed through his face had taken out his eye, because his right eye was fake. It was a big shiny glass orb, larger than seeing eye, inexplicably terrifying. His mouth was stitched together in such a way that the upper lip was always held in a snarl.
I stared at him in stupefied horror for a heart-stopping second, and then I started screaming.
He grabbed me by my shirtfront. picked me up off the bed like I was a rag doll, and gave me a shake.
"Stop," he said. "Shut up or I'll hit you." He looked at me dangling at arm's length. "Maybe I'll hit you anyway. Just for fun."
I was so freaked out my mouth felt frozen. "Wha do wha whan?" I asked.
He gave me another shake. "What?"
"What do you want?"
"I know who you are. I know lots of stuff and I want your brother. He has something that belongs to my boss. And my boss wants it back. Since we can't find your brother, we're going to take you instead. See if we can't swap you out. And if your brother won't deal, that's okay too, because then I get you."
"What does Toushirou have that belongs to your boss? What's this about?"
"Toushirou has a woman. And it's about fear and what it can do for you. And about being smart. My boss is real smart. And someday he's going to be real powerful. More powerful that he is now."
"Who's your boss?"
"You'll find out soon enough. And you should cooperate or you'll end up like that night watchman. He didn't want to tell us nothing, and then he tried to stop us from going into the dock master's office to get the occupancy list. What a dope."
"So you killed him?"
"You ask too many questions. I'm gonna put you down now, and you're gonna walk out with me, and you're not gonna give me any trouble, right?"
"Right," I said. And then I kicked him as hard as I could in the nuts.
He just stood there without breathing for a couple beats, so I kicked him again.
The second kick was the home run because the big guy's glass eye almost fell out of his head. He released his grip on my shirt and went to his knees. He grabbed his crotch, threw up, and then went face-down into the mess he'd just made.
I fell back on my butt and scrambled away crab style. I got to my feet and bolted, out of the bedroom, through the living room, down the stairs. I was on the sidewalk, ready to start running and not stop until I reached Baltimore, when Kurosaki-kun pulled to the curb in the Porsche.
"B-b-big guy," I said. "B-b-big guy in Toushirou's apartment."
Kurosaki-kun felt under his seat, brought out a gun, and got out of the car.
This did nothing to make me feel safe. If anything, it added to the panic.
"Don't worry about the gun," Kurosaki-kun said. "I'm from Texas. We give guns as baptism presents. I knew how to shoot before I could read."
"I don't like g-g-guns."
"Yeah, but sometimes you need time. Lots of people need to shoot varmints in Texas."
"Like coyotes?"
"That would be in the country. In my neighborhood it was mostly pissed-off husbands shooting guys in their naked ass as they jumped out bedroom windows." Kurosaki-kun looked to the open door and then up to the windows. "Tell me about this big guy."
"He was big. Real big. Like he didn't even fit in his skin. Like the Hulk, except he wasn't green. And he didn't have a neck. And he had a scar running down the side of his face into his mouth where he was all drooly and snarly. And his eye... his eye. Actually he didn't have an eye. Only one. The other one was fake, but it was a cheap fake. Like it was sort of too big for the real eye. And it didn't move. No matter what the real eye did, the one big cheap fake eye just stared out at me. Didn't blink, or anything. It was... frightening."
"Did he have a name?"
"I'm calling him Puke Face."
"Did Puke Face say anything interesting? Like why he was in Toushirou's bedroom?"
"He said Toushirou had a woman who belonged to his boss, so he was going to trade me. And that his boss was smart, and that this was all about fear and what it can do for you."
A blind was slightly pulled aside at one of Toushirou's windows. Kurosaki-kun aimed his gun at the window. The blind dropped back into place, and a moment later we heard a crash from the other side of the apartment building. "Unh," someone said. And then there was the sound of receding footsteps. Ka thud, ka thud, ka thud.
"Sounds to me like he just jumped out Toushirou's window," Kurosaki-kun said. "And he's limping."
"I kicked him in the nuts."
"Yeah, that might make him limp. Do you still want to do the club scene?"
I nodded. "I have to find my brother."
Kurosaki-kun beeped the Porsche locked, and he tossed a shimmery scrap of material at me. "I hope this fits. It was the best I could do on short notice."
"It's still warm."
"Yeah, you probably don't want to know all the details."
I held the dress up by its little string straps. "There's not much here."
"Trust me, you don't want a lot of dress. This is Miami. They really mean it when they say less is more."
I followed Kurosaki-kun back into the apartment, and we cautiously looked around.
"I'm a little flustered," I said.
"Perfectly understandable. If you need help getting into the dress..."
Yeah, right. Not that flustered.
"This is disgusting," Kurosaki-kun said, upper lip curled at the mess on the rug.
"He threw up after I kicked him the second time."
Kurosaki-kun instinctively put his hands to his package. "I could throw up just thinking about it."
I dragged myself and the dress into the bathroom. I did some deep breathing and got myself calmed down enough to keep going. Kurosaki-kun was out there with his gun, and I was safe in here, I told myself. Just get changed and get out.
I stripped my clothes off and exchanged my bikini undies for a thong. I dropped the dress over my head and tugged it down. It was silver metallic with some spandex. It had a V-neck that plunged halfway to my doodah, and the skirt fell two inches below my butt. I swiped some mascara on my lashes, sprayed my hair into a style that looked like maybe my brain had exploded, and I tarted up my mouth. I'd brought two pairs of shoes with me... the sneakers and a pair of silver strappy sandals with four-inch stiletto heels. Shoes for every occasion. I slid my feet into the sandals and swung out of the bathroom.
"Holy cow," Kurosaki-kun said.
"Too short?"
"Now I'm flustered."
Kurosaki-kun had his hair gelled back. He was wearing black linen slacks, a short-sleeve black silk shirt patterned with fluorescent purple palm trees, and loafers without socks. He had a Cartier watch on his wrist, and he smelled nice.
"Easy to see how Puke Face got in. The door is completely broken," Kurosaki-kun said. "If there's anything of value here, you should hide it or take it with you."
I gave Kurosaki-kun the photo of Toushirou to put in his pocket. "The only thing of value is the television, and it's not that great."
I followed Kurosaki-kun down the stairs and out to the Porsche. Kurosaki-kun drove a block and a half over to Washington and valet parked the car in front of a club.
"We could have walked," I said.
"Boy, you don't know much. You probably think owning a Porsche is about power and bling. Okay, power and bling is part of it, but it's mostly about valet parking. It's about the sucking up and the ogling and the envy. It's about the arrival, honey."
He was being funny, but there was some truth to what he said. There were about a hundred people milling around outside the club. These were the people who weren't thin enough, young enough, rich enough, or famous enough to get on the A list. None of them had arrived in a Porsche. And none of them had given the doorman enough money to compensate for their shortcomings.
The doorman smiled when he saw Kurosaki-kun and motioned him forward. I guess being a famous NASCAR guy has its compensations. The smile widened when he saw me attached to Kurosaki-kun. I guess having legs that went from my butt all the way down to the ground had its compensations, too.
We took a moment to adjust to the dark and the lights and pulse from the DJ. The women dancing onstage were all wearing feathers. The feathers were peach and aqua and lavender. Very South Beach avian.
"You do the men," Kurosaki-kun yelled at me over the music, pressing the photo of Toushirou into my hand. "Hit up the bartenders and security guys. I'll do the women. I'll meet you at the exit in a half hour. If you see Pukey, get up on a table where people can see you and start dancing."
If you want to chat with someone in a club you have to yell in their ear or hope they read lips. I found a bunch of guys who knew Toushirou but none who knew where he was. A bartender gave me a Cosmo. I felt a lot more relaxed after I slurped it down. I even started to feel a little brave. I met Kurosaki-kun in a half hour and we left together.
"Did you get anything?" he asked.
"A cosmopolitan."
"Anything else?"
"Nope. That was it."
"I didn't get a lot either. I'll fill you in later."
The valet brought the car around. We got in and drove three blocks to another club. The experience was almost identical, except this time the women performing were dressed like Carmen Miranda. Lots of fruit on their heads, colorful rumba ruffles on their G-strings. I then drank another Cosmo. And I found out nothing.
"Do you suppose it's possible that we're being followed?" I asked Kurosaki-kun. "I keep seeing this same guy. Someone different from Puke Face. He's all in black. Slicked-black hair. He was in the diner. And now he's here in the club. And I think he's watching me."
"Sugar, everyone's watching you."
We hit a third club, and I belted back my third cosmopolitan. I screamed at a couple guys, asking about my brother. And then I started dancing with a couple guys. I had part of a fourth cosmopolitan, and I danced some more. I was liking the music a lot. And I was feeling very unconcerned over Puke Face. In fact, I was feeling pretty darned happy.
I'd stopped worrying about the time, worrying about meeting Kurosaki-kun at the designated exit. Probably a half hour had passed, but for some unexplainable reason the numbers on my watch had gotten blurry. Actually, it occurred to me that I might be just a teensy drunk.
Kurosaki-kun plastered his hand against the small of my back and he guided me off the floor.
"Hey," I said. "I was dancing."
"I noticed."
He maneuvered me out the door and into the warm night air. He gave the parking attendant his ticket and ten dollars.
"So," I said to him. "What's up?"
"I've been watching you dance in this little dress for the last half hour, and you probably want to rephrase that question."
"Are we going to another club?"
"No. We're going home." He looked down at my shoes while we waited for the car to be brought around. "Don't your feet hurt in those shoes?"
"Fortunately, I lost the feeling in my feet an hour ago."
. . .
. . .
. . .
I woke up in Kurosaki-kun's guest bedroom with the sun pouring in on me. I was still wearing the little dress. I was alone. And I was pretty sure I hadn't done anything romantic before I fell asleep. Kurosaki-kun had refused to drive to back to Toushirou's. He said it wasn't safe. I guess he could be right, but it didn't feel safe here either.
I rolled out of the bed and padded barefoot across the room to the window. I looked down and had a moment of vertigo. The ground was w-a-a-ay down there. Now here's the thing... I don't love high. Hurtling around a race track at 120 mph, in a metal enclosure resting on four wheels, feels natural to me. Being shot up thirty-two floors turns everything in my intestines to liquid.
I carefully backed up and made my way out of the room, down a short hall, and into a large living-dining area. An entire wall of the living room and dining room was glass. I could see a balcony beyond the glass. And beyond the balcony was air. And a seagull flying backward.
The kitchen opened off the dining area. Kurosaki-kun was lounging against a kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in his hand.
The kitchen was very white with splashes of cobalt blue. The living room and dining room mirrored with white-and-blue color scheme. Very contemporary. Very expensive looking.
"Why is that seagull flying backwards?" I asked Kurosaki-kun.
"Wind. We've got a front blowing through."
And then I noticed it. The sway of the building.
There was a loud crash, and I turned to the window in time to see a seagull bounced off the glass and drop like a rock onto the patio.
"Omigod!" I said.
Kurosaki-kun didn't blink. "Happens all the time. Poor dumb buggers."
"We should do something. Will he be okay? Maybe we should take him to a vet."
Kurosaki-kun walked over and looked out. "He might be okay. Oops. Nope, he's not okay." Kurosaki-kun drew the curtains. "Vulture food."
"You're kidding! How awful."
"It's the chain of life. Perfectly natural."
"I'm not used to being this far off the ground," I said. "I don't really love being up this high." Orihime Inoue, master of the understatement.
Kurosaki-kun sipped some coffee. "It didn't bother you last night. Last night you loved everything. You tried to get me to take my clothes off."
"I did not!"
"Okay, I'm busted. You didn't. Actually, I volunteered but you'd already passed out."
I cautiously crept to the kitchen and poured myself a mug of coffee.
"Why are you walking like that?" Kurosaki-kun wanted to know.
"It''s spooky being up here. People weren't meant to live way up here. I feel... insecure."
"If God didn't intend for people to live up here he wouldn't have invented reinforced concrete."
"I'm not much of a drinker. My tongue feels like it's stuck to the top of my mouth."
"You keep talking dirty like that and I'm going to get excited."
"You get excited, and I'm leaving."
"It would help if you weren't wearing that dress." His eyes moved north to my hair. "Although, the hair is enough to make most men go limp. Not me, of course. But most men."
I could hear flapping and scuffling sounds coming from the patio. "Is that the seagull?" I asked.
Kurosaki-kun pulled the drape aside and peeked out. "Not exactly." There were some loud angry bird sounds, and Kurosaki-kun jumped back and pulled the drape shut. "Food fight," he said.
There was a breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the dining room. Four stools lined in front of the bar. A photo in a silver frame sat on the far end of the breakfast bar. It was a picture of a boat.
"Is this your boat?" I asked, picking the picture up to see it better.
"It was my boat. Prettiest boat ever made. And fast... for a fishing boat."
"Last night I talked to a bunch of guys who knew Toushirou, and the consensus is that my brother made a last-minute decision to take off. Apparently, Flex II had just returned from a trip to the Bahamas. Toushirou went clubbing the night he got back, but he was supposed to sail the following morning, so he cut out early. Around One AM. And that's the last anyone's seen him."
"When did he call you?"
"Around Two AM."
"So he comes back from a trip to the Bahamas," Kurosaki-kun said. "He goes clubbing until One AM. He calls me at Two AM. And he calls you right after he hangs up with me. He's on a boat. MY BOAT!"
"Maybe he's on your boat."
"It's the only boat missing in the goddamn marina. I checked. He tells you some guys are going to be looking for him. A woman screams. That's the last we hear from him. An hour later, someone kills the night watchman."
I told him about the night watchman conversation I had with Puke Face. "So what does this all mean?" I asked Kurosaki-kun.
"Don't know, darlin'."
"I need to go back to my brother's apartment. I left my duffel bag there. I wasn't thinking clearly."
Kurosaki-kun palmed a set of key off the bar. "I can help with that. NASCAR guy to the rescue. After we get you out of the dress and into some shorts we can get on with the Toushirou search."
I followed him out the door, into a foyer with two elevators. Kurosaki-kun pushed the button and looked at me.
"Are you okay? You just went white."
That's because my heart stopped pumping when I saw the elevators. "I'm fine," I said. "A little hung over."
We stepped into the elevator, Kurosaki-kun hit the lobby button, and the doors closed. I sucked in some air and squished my eyes shut. I didn't whimper or yell out 'we're gonna drop like a rock and die.' So I was sort of proud of myself.
"What's with the closed eyes?" Kurosaki-kun wanted to know.
"I don't like to see the numbers changing."
Kurosaki-kun slid his arm around me and hugged me close to him. "Cute."
~ Another long chapter for you guys! It's 9:00 pm here at my place and I really need to write some feature articles or else my boss would kill me D:
~ Nayme Shoumetsu, Out