Free Drained by E.H. Reinhard Page B

of her building were immediately to the right of the cafes’ outdoor seating—seating that appeared full. Brett continued for a block or two and found a parking spot on a side street. He parked, placed a baseball cap upon his head, and stepped from his car. Then he walked back to her building.
    He kept his head down and to the right as he passed the cafe. Brett quickly climbed the stairs and walked through the glass door of Monica’s building. He stood in a small entryway the size of a closet. Another door, which was locked, led into the apartment building itself. Before Brett was a row of buttons on the wall to buzz each apartment. He found her name next to unit three eighteen. He thumbed down the button.
    “Hello,” a woman’s voice called.
    “Here to pick you up,” he said.
    “Sure, I’ll be down in a minute.”
    Brett waited in the entryway. A moment later, he saw her approaching from an elevator down the hall.
    She opened the locked door. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were sending a driver.”
    “I couldn’t get a hold of him, so I figured I’d pick you up myself. I tried sending you a message, but I never got a response,” Brett said.
    “Yeah, my phone just up and died. Weirdest thing. I went to grab it to make a call, and it just did nothing. I swapped batteries, everything. Whatever. I guess I’ll have to get a new one tomorrow on my lunch break.”
    “Yeah, that’s definitely odd. You didn’t get it wet, did you?” Brett asked.
    “No, not at all.”
    “Well, more bad news. I was in a rush out the door and forgot my wallet, so we’ll have to stop and get it.” Brett looked down at his watch. “We have like an hour and a half until our dinner reservation, so we should be fine.”
    “Oh, okay,” Monica said.
    Brett looked her up and down. She wore a tight white dress with thin straps at the top.
    “You look amazing,” he said.
    “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said.
    Brett smirked but said nothing. He was wearing a black tailored suit. His shoes were a couple thousand—his watch more. The amount of scruff on his cheeks was perfect. He waved for her to follow him out from the building’s entryway.
    She did.
    “Where’s your car?” she asked.
    “I had to park like two blocks away. I drove past and couldn’t find a single spot, but now there are a bunch.”
    She shook her head. “A lot of weird stuff seems to be going on. Maybe it’s a sign.”
    Brett chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.” He walked fast past the cafe, trying to get off of her heavily populated block as quickly as possible.
    “Where’s the fire?” she asked. Monica jogged a couple steps in her high heels to catch up to him.
    “Oh, sorry.” He slowed and let her meet him at his side as he placed his hand at the small of her back. “I didn’t have any change, so I didn’t put anything in the parking meter. I don’t want to get a ticket.”
    Brett crossed the street, and the pair found his car and got in.
    “Wow, Rick. I’ve never been in one of these. I saw the photos of it online in your ad. This thing is so cool.”
    “Yeah.” He fired the motor and revved the engine. “A little pricey.” He chuckled. “I actually have a more expensive one on the way.” That was a lie.
    “Wow,” she said again. “I can’t imagine what a car payment on something like this would be.”
    “No car payment,” Brett said. “Just a purchase.”
    He quickly glanced over to catch her reaction. She looked at him and smiled.
    Monica reached over and placed her hand on his thigh. “How far away is your house?”
    “About a half hour. We’ll still be able to make our reservations, and if we don’t, I’m sure the restaurant will accommodate us. I’m friends with the owner.”
    “Oh, okay,” she said.
    Brett smirked—he had no reservations at any restaurant. He exchanged a bit of small talk with the woman on the drive toward his house—it mostly consisted of her talking about her phone and him talking over