Tox laughed. It was a full, hearty sound that Calliope felt deep down. It made her wish she could elicit that sort of carefree pleasure from him.
“Busted.” They walked up to the beanpole of a woman wearing fishnet stockings, glittery platforms, and a purple satin dress. “Foxy, meet Calliope.”
“Nice to meet you.” Calliope gave a little half-wave.
“Cujo friendly?”
“Yes, very.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. Give me a spin, girl.”
Calliope complied as Foxy inspected her with a hand to her chin. “She’s too classy for this block. I mean this block.” Foxy gestured to their surroundings. “Not this block.” She motioned to Tox. “You two could be on top of a wedding cake. I’ll clear my calendar for June.”
Tox laughed again, jiggling Calliope who was still tucked in the nook of his arm. Foxy was undeterred. “Take her to Rocca. This girl needs candle-on-the-table treatment.”
Tox changed the subject. “Why are you still up?”
“Busy night. Just heading to bed.” Foxy turned to Calliope. “I am a vampire, sugar, a creature of the night.”
Calliope nodded her understanding. “Keeps you young. No sun damage.”
“She gets it.” Foxy waved as she walked away, then turned back. “Boys on the corner are up to no good. Hamzeh called his cousin.” Hamzeh ran the bodega on the corner; his cousin was a cop.
“Copy that,” Tox confirmed as Foxy disappeared around the corner.
Tox halted the industrial elevator manually and yanked back the retractable gate. With a comically formal gesture, he indicated Calliope precede him into the space. Her face gave nothing away as she glanced around the room. The stamped tin ceiling was missing sections, revealing pipes and ductwork. A weight bench/coffee table sat near a sofa that looked like it should have been sitting out on the street. The “kitchen” was formerly a cleaning station consisting of a deep double sink, cabinet storage, and a counter. Tox had added a hot plate, a microwave, and a fridge.
Calliope noticed the one thing out of place, a cereal bowl on the floor, as she turned toward the bedroom. She scanned the neatly made bed, the photos on the dresser, and the row of clothing neatly hung from an exposed pipe.
Tox had always liked his living space. He could see every corner of the loft from almost any position. He kept it clean as a pin. It was quiet. His only visitor to date was Loco. Watching Calliope inspect the apartment filled Tox with an unexpected sense of shame. He could have done so much more. He could have renovated the entire space. He had lived here, on and off, for years. He could have afforded to do so many things. Things he suddenly wished he had done. He wasn’t lazy. He wasn’t financially strapped. He was just…in limbo. He shook off the feeling. His home was exactly what he needed. It was enough.
Calliope finished her inspection and came to stand in front of him where he had perched on the arm of the couch. Then she said the last thing he ever would have expected.
“How big are your feet?”
“Hmm?”
“Your feet. I was looking at your shoes all lined up and…my God. I guess I never noticed before because your feet are attached to your body, and, well…they’re in proportion to the rest of you. But just sitting over there, they look like boats docked at a marina.”
Tox tried to bank his amusement as she observed his hands and feet, no doubt thinking about...proportions.
“Seventeen.”
“Hmm?”
“My shoes. They’re size seventeen. I have to special order.”
Tox had barely finished his answer when a thud and a hiss pulled both of their attention across the room. Coco tugged the leash free from Calliope’s hand and scurried over to where the cat crouched. Loco spat and swiped a clawed paw at the rottweiler. Coco kept her distance but her stump of a tail bobbed affably.
Tox grinned, realizing what he was about to say. “Coco, meet Loco.”
“Seriously?” Calliope chuckled, despite her obvious concern for her pet.
“Yep. He came with the building.”
Tox and Calliope observed from a distance as Loco raced between Coco’s legs and hovered around her food bowl, hunger overriding her natural misanthropy. Tox crossed to the kitchen and retrieved the bag of cat food from the cupboard. He spilled a waterfall of kibble in and around the bowl, set the bag on the counter, and returned to his spot next to Calliope. Coco, never one to turn down a treat, ambled over to the kitchen and started licking up the kibbles that had missed the bowl, earning him a hiss and a spit from the cat. Rather than retreat, Coco went to the floor as if waiting for someone to throw a ball, and watched as the cat gobbled up the food and then darted out of sight.
“That’s some pet you’ve got there.”