Ghosted
evidence and they give her a
jumpsuit to wear. I wonder if regular rape victims, or attempted
victims, are given as much attention as Caroline Black. One of the
officers tells me his boss is on the phone with the money mogul
himself.
    The ambulance treats us both for injuries—I
did not come away from this unscathed. The assailant, as the police
call him, managed a few good hits to my face and a serious one to
my chest. There is a suspicion I have bruised ribs.
    "I would suggest the both of you come back to
the hospital. Just to make sure there's nothing broken."
    A hospital bill is not something I need so I
decline. But I insist Caroline go with them.
    "Daniel, do you have a car?"
    "Well yes I do…but it's not—"
    She turns to the EMT. "I'm going to stay with
Daniel. He can take me home."
    I feel a low level of panic set in when I
realize this meeting is going beyond its initial excitement. With
recommendations about medical procedure an reassurances to the
police I would come in the next day, I escort Caroline back down
the sidewalk to the loft door. My bag of Chinese food rests where I
dropped it.
    "That smells good," she says.
    I fumble with my keys to unlock the door and
quickly step inside to disarm the security system. I hold the door
open for her to step in, then grab the bag off the sidewalk. "This
place belongs to a friend of mine."
    The lower level of the entrance is small so I
lead her up the stairs to the actual loft door. There I hit the
security code and the door opens. Keyless entry.
    Inside I toss my keys on the table by the door
and watch her as she shuffles in. Her eyes are wide as I flip the
lights on, and the silence of the place is disrupted by the thunk
of electricity feeding the bulbs hanging fourteen feet over our
head.
    "This place is…" She turns around as she looks
everything over. "Is your friend well off?"
    "Yes and know. I did all the custom work. It
was just a warehouse space sitting empty when she convinced the
owner to let her buy it. The area is zoned commercial, so she lets
me crash and I keep my workshop here." I hide my disappointment in
myself. I sound like a nervous idiot, babbling. Because that is
what I am.
    Nervous.
    And an idiot. Girls like her do not care for
the machinations of a simple man like me.
    "You…built all this? The loft up there? The
benches around the windows?"
    "Yes. And I made the furniture. Chloe's not
really…big into buying things like that because she's rarely home.
But she likes big, soft furniture to sit and relax on. Most of her
time here is spent watching movies, catching up on Netflix." I
wince because I have babbled again.
    Caroline follows me across the hard wood floor
to the kitchen. I place the bag of food on the counter and open a
cabinet. "Are you hungry?"
    "Yes I am." She reaches up and runs her hands
over the white and teak finish of the cabinet doors. "You do these
too?"
    "Yes. I guess I should clarify it and say that
when Chloe bought the place she abruptly spent a year in Europe and
told me, make me a nice place and stay in it. So…I did." I grab two
plates.
    "Are you and Chloe…together?"
    It was an odd question. Mine and Chloe's
mutual friends knew us well enough not to ask it. "No. We're good
friends. But to put things in perspective, if Chloe saw you," I
shrug. "She would hit on you."
    "Oh. I get it." Her smile widens. "You're very
different, Mr. Daniel Grant."
    I pull the boxes from the bag. "I have Mushu
Pork, Mongolian Beef, fried and steamed rice, pot stickers and…wow
they gave me two fortune cookies." I pull the cookies out and set
them on the counter.
    "I'm thinking they assumed one person wasn't
going to eat that much food. So…" She puts her hands together.
"Let's eat?"
    We sit on the couches as the flat screen
displays a rerun of some comedy I never watch. We talk about
ourselves and who we are. She is much more interesting than
me.
    "And then I graduated—barely. My dad was happy
I at least got my cap and gown and a job. I

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