Look but Don't Choke

Chapter 22

     "Girlie."

     It was a voice I knew well. I couldn't place the face, but it was familiar and safe so I resisted the pull of consciousness and rocked back into the cradle of sleep. I allowed myself to wallow for a moment, deep in the first true slumber I'd had in weeks.

     "Wake up," he said. I didn't want to leave the warmth but I could feel lucidity tugging so I gave in and opened my eyes. Soft light washed through the window and drenched my bedroom in a semi-dark taupe. "Get up, girlie."

     My body snapped upright. "Johnny?" In the dark I could just make out his form, illuminated by the glow of the streetlight outside the window.

     I pulled the covers down to my waist and reached for the lamp that sat in a light sheen of dust on top of the nightstand. Light flooded the room and from behind tired eyes I could see him sitting in the armchair next to the window. "Did you break into my house?"

     "It's a skill I have. You should remember."

     "The fuck?" I glanced over at the alarm clock. "It's four-thirty in the morning."

     He could barely hide the force in his voice. "We have to go to Delgatto's house today, remember?"

     "I know but that isn't 'til eleven."

     "Unless you want me to paint him with the power of my imagination we need to get to the craft store and pick up supplies. You know brushes, canvas, easel, paint. Come on, craft store opens at six."

     "Can't we pick it up on the way?" I groaned as I fell back onto my pillow.

     "Nope. I need to prepare the canvas."

     "Why didn't you tell me before now? We could have done this yesterday."

     "I don't know. Maybe I'm punishing you."

     I sprung back up, "Fine. Just let me hop in the shower."

     He nodded and I carefully maneuvered myself from under my covers lest I give him an early morning peek at my goodies. My usual sleepwear was little more than an over-sized cotton tee-shirt that reached just to the upper part of my thighs. Under that...nothing.

     As I stretched to my full height in front of him I tried to low-key tug the hem of my shirt down a bit to preserve my modesty, but he was barely conscious of my movements instead choosing to stare at the wall. I thought for a moment he was being a gentleman, but no, he was in one of those attitudes of his where his body was present but his attention was gripped by whatever bad memory he kept locked away in the labyrinth of his mind.

     So instead I walked over to my computer desk, still aware enough to make sure my shirt didn't rise as I moved, and grabbed the robe from off of the office chair where I'd left it whenever I'd worn it last. By the time I'd shrugged into it and turned around he was staring at me.

     "I--uh...Just let me get that shower and we can go."

     He shrugged. "You said that already. Hurry up, I don't have all day."

     He was playing the asshole today since I'd essentially forced him to paint the family of the local Kingpin, but it was a little too early for me to care about his delicate little feelings so I marched my ass out of my bedroom like I didn't give a damn. I was still a little self-conscious about how little clothes I was wearing--you know what--fuck that. Nobody told him to break in here like he owned the place, and I'm not ashamed of the way I look inside the privacy of my own home. I'll sleep nude if I want! This is my house!