Two weeks later…
Shower. Bed. Shower. Bed. The two words repeated in Darcy's head like a mantra. She was almost home after another craptacular day at work. Her douchebag boss had actually called her 'Sugar Lips'. She supposed that was better than Sugar Tits, but still...not cool. At least it was Friday.
Her building was finally in sight and she would have started skipping if she wasn't so damn tired. Trudging up the steps to the fourth floor, she went to put the key in the lock and froze with her hand outstretched. Her door was cracked open. She very clearly remembered locking it this morning. What was she supposed to do? Call the cops? No, first she would make sure it was something police worthy. Maybe there was a maintenance issue and the super had to come fix something. The building was really run-down, so that was just as likely as…the other option.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the taser she always carried around with her (hey, she was a single girl in a big city – she was not going to be another statistic). She pushed the door completely open. The lights were off.
She nervously called out, "Hello?"
Silence.
She flipped the light on, holding her taser at the ready.
Well, there was no one in there. Her apartment was a tiny studio, so unless someone was hiding in her shower, she was alone.
The place was also completely trashed. Fuck. This wasn't happening.
Why would someone break into her dinky apartment and steal her cheap crap? Seriously.
She walked the rest of the way into the apartment, looking around and trying not to cry. She peeked into the bathroom (just to check behind the shower curtain – empty) and then sat down on the toilet seat and let the tears come. This sucked so bad.
Once she was under control – well mostly under control – she called 911 even though she wasn't sure it counted as an emergency since the crime had long since been committed. At least the woman on the phone was nice to her. She heard a knock on the door an oddly short while later and two cops came in and poked around and asked so many freaking questions and she just wanted to cry again. Apparently whoever had done this had hit three other apartments in the neighborhood, so the cops had already been nearby. Wasn't that convenient? The super came down and promised to get a locksmith to fix her door in the morning – which meant she'd have to spend the night in a freshly burgled apartment with no locks. Awesome.
After what felt like forever, the cops were gone and words like 'receipts' and 'screwdriver' and 'Renter's Insurance' (what the hell was that?) were drifting through her head. She had wanted to shower, but that wasn't happening now. She already felt ridiculously vulnerable, she wasn't going to go ahead and get naked. And she couldn't afford a hotel room. Especially not now – she didn't even want to think about how much it would cost to replace what was taken. At least she had her phone on her, which was comparable to a small miracle in the parade of crappy luck that was becoming her life.
She wished - not for the first time - that she was more social. She had friends. Sort of. Friends she'd studied with and sometimes grabbed a beer with after class. But, she didn't really have the kind of friend that you call when your place gets burglarized and you just want someone to hold you while you cry. God, she wished she had a boyfriend. One of those would be really convenient right now.
Wait!
She started digging through her messenger bag like a mad person until she found her wallet. She flipped through it looking for a little white card. Bingo! 'Loki Odinson, Professor of Chemistry'.
She hesitated for a minute. It was almost midnight and - barring the random coffee shop encounter - she hadn't seen him in months and they were never really friendly. But, he'd offered. And he was a gentleman. And as much as she'd felt affronted when he implied that a single, young woman needed a man to protect her – well, she really needed someone to make her feel safe right now. And she couldn't think of anyone who would do that better than Loki.
The hell with it, she thought, and dialed.
