Who doesn’t have a doorbell?
What the hell kind of setup is this?
Also—no one is here to let me the fuck inside! I feel like a dickhole standing out here. Knocking again, I shoot my gaze around the yard to the sidewalk and down the quaint street. I’m absolutely paranoid that someone may see me standing here and get nosy.
I’ve been given clear instructions by my agent to keep a low profile.
“Is anyone home?” I bang on the door with my fist.
So what if I’m early by several hours?
I helped myself to an earlier flight to get a jump start on my mini-non-vacation, thinking I’d be doing everyone a favor by leaping into obscurity sooner rather than later.
Time to relax while the powers that be did their jobs behind the scenes.According to Eli, my departure from the New York Condors will be the top news story the sports world will have seen in a decade. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I guess I have to learn to trust him.
Hell, I might even read a book or two while I’m here.
Start a woodworking project like my pops would have done. Hang a hammock and nap in the sun. Shit—the world is my oyster!
The world was supposed to be my oyster ten minutes ago, so it would be mighty helpful if someone would come to the gall dang door.
What was her name, the girl who lives here?
Peoney?
Patricia?
Pa…Pa…
P.
I open my phone to look at the address, her name a headline at the top of the screenshot.
Posey Kettner.
Posey, that’s right.
My temporary roommate’s name is Posey, like some goddamn flower or storybook creature, one of the single dumbest names I’ve ever heard, and I made no secret about it.
“Do not tell me Posey is her actual name.”
My agent, Eli, had shrugged his shoulders. “What difference does her name make? She’s a great person who also values her privacy, and I’ve no doubt that she won’t leak your location to the press or sell you out.”
“It doesn’t make one lick of difference, but that cannot be her name.”
He laughed, just like he laughs at every other thing I say.
“I’ll find out when I get there,” I tell him.
“Duke, don’t do that. You’ll make it weird.”
“How’s it weird wantin’ to know her actual name?”
“That is her actual name. Stop being a dick because you want something to pick on.”
I wasn’t picking. I was just relentlessly curious.
Posey isn’t opening the door, and I’m growing impatient, which would come as a surprise to no one.