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Nordies is my go to place for cocktail dresses and I nab a few. I hit Shoe Factory for new runners. I’ll convince Movie Star to exercise with me and release endorphins from his gorgeous body. He already hits the gym, does yoga, Tai-Bo, whatever his role, his handlers, and his job call for. Exercise and endorphins are a terrific tool in my bag of tricks to break inside men’s psyches and make him reveal secrets. I scoop up athletic wear, tights, T-shirts, and running bras at a pop-up store on State Street.
It’s 9 p.m. and the store guards lower protective gates, gearing up to close. I’m starving by the time I walk into my favorite falafel joint under the el train tracks on the way home to my condo in Greektown. I bit the bullet last year and rented a place with an option to buy. A few months ago my accountant said it was time, so I bought.
I stand behind the counter at Queen’s House of Falafels. The sixty-something proprietor with the immaculate salt and pepper hair looks expectantly at me. “What’ll it be, Evie?”
I order what I always get. “Gyros, pita and hummus plate to go, Mr. Katsis. No time to make dinner tonight.”
“You look healthy and happy,” he says.
“New haircut,” I say. “How are things?”
“Me? I’m up, down. Left, right. My oldest, Constantine, is divorcing the wife.” He looks sad.
I can feel his melancholy, his fears. No grandkids for me. Only the restaurant.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Katsis,” I say, searching for things to say that will make him feel better. “I predict more daughters-in-law in your future. Constantine is a handsome man.”
“You interested?” He waggles his eyebrows.
“I fear he’s out of my league.” I frown, wring my hands, and sigh dramatically.
“Ha.” He cracks a smile. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s good, thanks. We’re going on vacation one of these days.”
“She’s coming to visit you here in Chicago?” His eyes light up like a kid catching candy at a parade. “When? For how long?”
“Do you have a crush on my mother, Mr. Katsis?” I smile and hand him a twenty.
“She’s so nice every time you bring her in here. Like mother, like daughter. I put some extra chips in the bag for you, Evie.” He hands me change. “No extra charge. I know how much you like them. Besides, you’re getting a little thin.”
“You’re a sweet man. Are you trying to make me fat?”
“No, Evelyn. I’m trying to bribe you into bringing your mom back to my restaurant next time she comes to town.”
“That can be arranged.”
I walk out the door of the hole in the wall joint swallowing a smile, the chimes on the door ringing as I leave.
Inside the elevator at my condo building I punch the button for the 12th floor. The gears engage, hum, and grind, as the lift rises to my loft condo on the top floor. I pull open the accordion door and transfer my purchases into the hallway.
I pick them back up, three in each hand, and walk down the hallway to my corner unit. I drop one handful and dig through my bag for my keys. I twist the key in the top deadbolt but it doesn’t open with the clunk that I expect because it’s not locked. It’s already open.
How is it already open? Weird. Oh, holy hell have I been robbed? My hand trembles as I slide the key in the bottom lock where it catches. I turn the key, the tumblers clunking over. I nudge the door open with my knee and peek inside.
The TV is still on the wall, the computer still on the recycled barn wood dining table. There are no broken windows visible. I probably forgot to bolt the door on my way out. In my haste to get everything done before I leave tomorrow I forgot to lock the deadbolt.
I ease inside my condo, place the bags on the floor, and toss the dry cleaning over a chair next to the dining room table. Nothing appears an inch out of place but the hairs on the back of my arms are raised and something feels off.
I walk down the hall to the bedrooms. The movie posters are all hanging straight on the walls. The framed photographs of my mom, my sister and me that could pass for a smiling department store family are grouped neatly on their own space.
I poke my head in the guest bathroom. The towels are straight, the toilet lid down. The organic lavender soap in the plunger bottle is still next to the glass bowl. I open the door to the smaller bedroom. The futon is bright and cheery with the cover I bought from a seller on Etsy. The windows are intact. My second computer hasn’t budged an inch. And still, I can’t shake the weird feeling that something’s not right.
I wander down the hall and enter my room. There’s a gap in the center of the curtains and my bed is still made, but that’s where the similarity ends.
A six by six inch blue box with a white bow rests in the center of the bed. It wasn’t there when I left this morning. It could pass for a box from my favorite jewelry store.
My heart thumpity-thumps in my chest as I make my way to the bed. My breath ratchets up a notch. I untie the bow and lift the lid. There’s a wafer-thin page ripped from a book. It’s fragile and yellowing – could be antique. It’s a page from a Bible and one verse is highlighted in yellow:
