And last, after contemplating it for some time, too much of it (like, nearly always), his reaction to my building irked me. He didn’t shield me from his anger or his personality, such as it was, but his clear contempt of my living arrangements (and I was certain this was it), was offensive. It was also, though I couldn’t know this but I felt it, out of character. No one who could show signs of courtesy and take care to be sensitive to the differences in our financial circumstances at the same time pointing them out should behave the way he did when he saw my humble abode. It didn’t fit but it did annoy me.

As I rounded the building and walked up the front steps all of this was on my mind as it had been for days. Along with this I wondered why it was on my mind since I’d never see the guy again. And along with this, what was on my mind was that I couldn’t deny the fact that this was upsetting. Like I knew at a glance Nick Sebring was a jerk, I knew at a glance Knight Whoever was dangerous. I should steer clear. I knew this and the fact of the matter was I had no choice. Knight Whoever and I would not cross paths. Still, I couldn’t help but wish we did.

Which was crazy.

I put my hand holding the handles of one of my totes to the front door of my building, pushed in, my body moving with my push and I slammed right into it mostly because it didn’t move.

Then I blinked.

Then I pushed again.

It didn’t budge.

What on earth?

I noticed movement inside and saw a man wearing gray pants and a matching gray shirt with a patch over his heart declaring his name was “Terry” and he worked for “Avionics Elevators” was coming my way and smiling. Automatically, I smiled back as his hand came to the inside handle and he opened the door.

“Everyone’s doin’ that,” he told me as he held the door open for me.

I stared at him as I walked in and he kept smiling at me.

“Got a notice in your place that has the codes,” he informed me as he let go of the door and it closed behind me.

I looked back, hearing it latch in a way it hadn’t latched in months then I looked back at Elevator Man Terry.

“The door is fixed?” I asked and he nodded.

“Yup, dude left when I got here. Keypad and call system, all a go.”

Whoa.

Then, belatedly, I took him in and my eyes drifted to the elevators that had plastic barricades around with signs on them that said, “Elevator out of order. Men working.” The doors were opened and the na**d elevator shaft was in view with work lights dangling inside.

I looked back at Terry. “You’re fixing the elevator?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Fixed. Needed a doohickey. Doohickey replaced, all’s good.” He tipped his head down to my totes and grinned again. “You live on one of the upper floors, you just got help.”

“Cool,” I whispered even though I never used the elevator. This was another irrational fear I had. Buildings crushing me in underground parking lots and elevators plummeting me to my death. I avoided them if I could and since I was capable of walking up two flights of steps, at my apartment building, I did. I noticed his grin got bigger then I took in his patch and looked back at him. “Aren’t avionics about airplanes?”

He shrugged, still grinning. “Boss is a good guy but he ain’t too bright. Knows elevators though. Just doesn’t have much of a vocabulary. I think he thinks he made up the word. He might not be bright but he’s a decent dude so no one has enlightened him.”

“Ah,” I mumbled and he kept grinning.

I started moving toward the stairs, calling, “Well, thanks for fixing it.”

“My job, darlin’,” he called to my back.

I threw a smile over my shoulder and headed to the stairs.

Jeez, wonder if the jerk Landlord Steve won the lottery.

I made it to the third floor, turned into the hall and stopped dead.

Charlie, our rarely seen maintenance man, was on a stepladder switching out a light bulb.

“Yo, Anya,” Charlie called when he spotted me.

“Hey, Charlie,” I called back, moving toward him. “I see you’ve been activated too.”

“Sho’ ‘nuff,” he confirmed the obvious.

I stopped at the side of the stepladder and looked up to watch him screwing in a light bulb. “What lit a fire under Steve? Did someone call the building inspector or something?”

Charlie climbed down and grinned at me. “No idea, doubtful though. Do know the man got roughed up. Split lip so fat it’s a wonder he can talk. Eye purple and swollen shut. Holdin’ his body funny so whoever it was took some shots at his ribs. Totally f**ked up. That one plus his one of callin’ on me made two so I’m thinkin’ Gearson in apartment 2C. His woman had a baby. Does shit to a man, especially when his bitch or him has gotta drag that stroller down a flight of stairs anytime they wanna take that kid somewhere.”

I could see this. I knew Wash Gearson. He was quick to smile, if he saw you carrying stuff into the building, he’d help you with it, he always opened the door and let you go through first and he loved his partner and new, adorable baby. They had a two bedroom on the second floor and I knew Wash got in Steve the landlord’s face regularly. And seeing as Wash was a big, somewhat soft but definitely not a guy you messed with black dude and Steve had messed with him, Wash had messed back.

I didn’t condone violence but I wasn’t going to say no to a security system, an elevator that worked (even though I never used the latter, others did) and lighting in the halls that didn’t make the place look ripe to become a location for a slasher flick.

“I don’t think I’d let Wash hear you call his woman a bitch,” I advised quietly but still grinning.

“He calls her his bitch and we share the same lingo.” This was true enough. Wash’s mouth was even fouler than Charlie’s which was going to make child rearing interesting in the Gearson household. “Think he’d be cool,” Charlie went on. “Especially when I fixed his fridge last week after he called me direct ‘cause Steve didn’t do shit for three days. This could be what tipped him. Though, call Bertha, Bertha to her face.”

Bertha, Wash’s woman, had an unfortunate name. Luckily, her parents gave her glamorous beauty and life gave her a good man who might not make a mint but he loved her so that counteracted her name. I knew this because her smile was as easy as her man’s and she laughed a lot.

“And, get this,” Charlie went on, “monthly schedule. Even if the bulbs don’t need changin’ out, I come in first of the month and change the whole lot.”