Here, in the apartment above Mort’s, she’d found her first friendship—and recognized her own humanity in the bargain. Before Mort, she hadn’t felt human.
She hadn’t even felt real.
She located him on his front stoop, sitting there with legs stretched out, propped back on his elbows, doing nothing.
Many times she’d sat in that exact same spot, waiting for duty to call, suffering her own existence.
At the sight of Mort, something warm and mellow spread throughout her.
She liked him. Hell, she probably loved him, though she couldn’t be sure. Caring was a very new concept for her and she wasn’t sure what it felt like. The only strong emotion well known to her was the driving, all-consuming need to destroy evil.
And lately, her profound desire to be with Luther.
Frustrated by that, Gaby kicked a rock, and Mort looked up.
When he saw her approaching, his face lit up with pleasure. Good old Mort. His devotion to her left her humbled and befuddled.
She was the creepiest person he had ever met, and yet he revered her.
Good old Mort—the impetus that had set her on an unknown track.
She owed him much, more than she could ever repay.
Now on his feet, he hailed her with a wide smile and blooming energy. “Gaby! I didn’t know you were coming to visit.”
It didn’t make any sense, considering what an utter putz Mort used to be. But he looked good. For a man who had previously presented himself with stoop-shouldered insecurity, a paunch, and loads of desperation, he now exuded good health, confidence, and maybe even sex appeal.
Why else would women give him second glances? Men eyed him with respect. Hookers did their best to entice him.
But Mort had eyes only for Ann.
Ann, the miracle worker. Ann, the savior of all pathetic souls. Ann, of beauty and grace, a woman who accepted the faults and lacking nature of others, including Bliss and Mort and . . . Gaby herself.
The woman should be canonized. Her presence made Gaby’s faults and shortcomings more conspicuous than ever, and for that, Gaby resented her.
Thanks to Ann’s influence, Mort’s body was more fit now, leaner and harder than ever before, and his self-assured demeanor gave him a striking edge.
She waved him back to his seat. “You didn’t have to get up.”
“Of course I did.” Laughing, he reached for her and dared to draw her into a tight, friendly hug.
Solid, that was the word to describe Mort: solid in form and in friendship.
“It’s always great to see you, Gaby, you know that.” He let her push out of his arms, and added, “Especially today.”
Why? Gaby wondered. What made today special?
“Let’s go in for coffee. Or would you rather have a cola?”
“Cola,” Gaby said, no longer feeling the need to rebuke Mort’s every gracious effort.
They passed through the front door and Gaby paused inside, looking at the stairs that led to the upper rooms where she used to stay. Much had happened here, and she felt a poignant loss for what she used to be. Her life back then had been stark and bleak and simple.
Now the complications filled her with fear at what she was becoming.
“Gaby?” Mort touched her shoulder, startling her and drawing her from her thoughts. “You okay?”
She jerked away from long-dead memories and nodded toward the upstairs apartment. “Bliss cooking anything? I could eat.”
He frowned in concern. “You all right?”
“Just hungry, that’s all. Luther and I missed both breakfast and lunch.”
Assuming they’d been pleasurably occupied, Mort smiled. Gaby didn’t bother to tell him that in their urgency to hunt down clues on a cannibal, they hadn’t thought about food.
“She’s out interviewing for jobs, but I can put together a sandwich for you.” Mort turned to lead the way toward his kitchen.
Thanks to Ann-the-fucking-paragon, Mort’s place was now tidy and organized. Everywhere Gaby looked, she saw Ann’s influence. The old kitchen table remained, but now it looked pristine, matching the rest of the kitchen. Place-mats decorated the tabletop, with matching curtains at the window.
It made Gaby want to puke.
She jerked out a chair and dropped into it. “So Bliss wants a job, huh?”
Mort nodded. “Sure, why not? Ann set up interviews for her with several nice places. We’re hoping she lands a job today.”
Getting colas from the refrigerator, Mort said, “It’ll really help Bliss’s self-confidence to earn her own way, instead of relying on friends to help her. Not that I mind having her upstairs.”
“But you need the money,” Gaby said as he handed her a frosty can.
Confusion stalled him. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Luther pays her rent, so I’m not out anything.”
Gaby paused with the foaming can almost to her lips. No, she hadn’t known that. But this added example of Luther’s compassion warmed her. True, in the depressed area with an apartment so small, the rent wasn’t much at all. That’s how Gaby had afforded it. Still, it was a real kind thing for Luther to do.
To hide her surprise, Gaby took a long drink, burped, and set the can on the table. “I suppose Luther can afford it.”
“He says he can. I tried to tell him not to worry about it. Truth is, I like having the company here, whether Bliss could pay or not. She’s a nice girl. But Luther insisted.” He gave her a look. “He knows you care about Bliss, and he doesn’t want you to worry.”
Gaby grunted. “So it’s my fault he’s spending his life savings?”
Sticking his head in the fridge again, Mort ignored that to ask, “Ham and cheese okay?”
“Anything’ll do.” Along with now being sensitive to cold, exhaustion, and despair, Gaby grew ravenous several times a day. Feeding herself was a pain in the ass, but it beat the growling in her stomach.
Mort set out pickles and chips, too. “Don’t worry about the rent, okay? I doubt Luther will let himself go broke.”
Gaby set out the cell phone. “He might if he keeps buying me stupid gifts.”
Mort glanced at the phone. “Nice. Now I can call you to chat.”
Just peachy. That probability hadn’t occurred to Gaby. “I’m not real used to it yet,” she hedged. “Don’t count on me answering all the time, okay?”
Mort laughed. “Here, I’ll get your number and program in mine for you. If anything comes up, you know, like with Bliss or whatever, I can let you know.” He cast her a quick smile while fidgeting with the phone.
Mort made it look so easy as he pushed buttons, clicked here and there, and then put her phone back on the table.
“I’m getting your number, too. I can share it with Bliss.” He opened a drawer and got a slip of paper, wrote the number on it, and put it on the front of his fridge with a magnet shaped like an apple. “Bliss will love being able to reach you.”
Double fuck. The last thing Gaby wanted to do was indulge small talk on a phone. “Make it clear that the phone is only for emergencies.”
“Got it.” Grinning, Mort went back to the food preparation. It occurred to Gaby that he was now a multitasking man, when he used to be pathetically ineffective at all he did. He was different, better, but still the Mort she knew and felt comfortable with.
If Mort could change so easily, then maybe she could, too.
But then again, Mort wasn’t a freak of nature.
“So,” Gaby said, harking back to his earlier comment, “what’s special about today?”
He glanced at her between layering meat and cheese on white bread. “I was talking about the investigation and everything.”
“Some creepy shit, that’s for sure.” To a guy like Mort, the grisly murders had to be scary.
He glanced up. “I know it’s routine for Ann and Luther, but aren’t you worried about tonight?”
Trying to hide her ignorance, Gaby narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know about anything happening tonight.
Hedging, she asked, “Is there some reason I should be?”