"Yes."

           "My office, tomorrow night."

          "How 'bout my office."

          He got quiet again as he weighed his options. I couldn't risk meeting on his turf, but he knew coming to mine was a relinquishing of some of his power, no matter how small.

          Eventually he cleared his throat and answered, the reward outweighed the risk. "Fine. Your office. Tomorrow night."

*********************************************************

          Later that night I prowled through my apartment with a heavy mind and an empty stomach. I was hungry, borderline famished, but every time I walked to the kitchen my feet circled in time with my mind. I need a confession. I need to keep myself safe. I need to return the necklace and collect my fee. I need...my concentration was interrupted by my stomach rumbling low like a dying animal. I held it and sighed; thoughts of murder now replaced with thoughts of food.

          No sense starving myself before tomorrow.

          Staring at a mostly empty fridge didn't inspire culinary genius in me—bummer. There was plenty of uncooked food in the house, but I was feeling much too lazy. All that was ready made was the last bit of baked fish I'd cooked earlier in the week and the last serving of over cooked rice in the bottom of the rice pot. Respectable with a side of veggies, but not inspiring any passion in me. I could get delivery, but I don't feel like waiting or paying.

          I checked the cabinet and saw I had a couple of bowls worth of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, so I pulled down the box and grabbed a bowl. My almond milk was down to half a bowl, which meant I was going to have to cut it with some tap water to make it stretch. Yummy.

          I'd prepped my bowl and spoon for my 'delicious' feast and was just about to pour the cereal when the damn phone rang. And ain't that just how it always goes. I checked the caller ID and rolled my eyes. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, least of all him, but problems aren't solved by avoidance.

          I put down the Cinnamon Toast Crunch and picked up the phone. I answered with all the attitude I could muster so late in the day. "Hey." I said with sass on a hundred.

           "Hey." The attitude made Manny falter a bit, but he swerved nearly effortlessly into his next sentence like a champ. "I know you said you'd call me, but I wanted to talk."

          "So talk."

          "Not like this. In person."

           "Maybe I don't want to see you."

          He hesitated. "Maybe I'm...downstairs."

           I scoffed; all coolness drained from me by this most epic affront to my being. "Manny! What have I told you about respecting my boundaries?"

          "I know! But I suck at waiting!"

          It's been one day! "This is pathetic! I bet you're standing down there all cliché with tears in your eyes and a bouquet of flowers in your hand like this is a movie or some shit. Well, I will not be bought with shrubbery!"

          If he's expecting me to open my door on a whim, he's got another thing coming! I look a mess! And I haven't straightened up in here either! I'm not in the mood to entertain!

          "Yes, to all that." He stammered. "Except I don't have the flowers. I brought pizza."

          "...Huh?"

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