Page 77 of Bright Lights, Big Christmas
“You’re right, on all counts. But I have to be realistic. Even if my freelance career was flourishing, which it’s not, let me remind you again, I can’t afford to live in this city. Or anywhere near it.”
“You could live with me,” Patrick said. “My studio’s not very big, but it’s workable. And we’d be together.”
“No thanks,” she said firmly. “I appreciate the offer, but I won’t move from sponging off my mom to sponging off you. Besides,” she said, lightly touching his chin. “You’ve known me for less than a month. We haven’t even had a real date yet. How do you know I’m not a psychopathic killer? Don’t you think moving in together is a pretty big step?”
He shook his head stubbornly, and she saw where Austin got his obstinate streak. “Doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other. When it’s right, it’s right. We’re good together. And I believe in you, Kerry, and in your talent. You can totally make a living with your art…”
She let out a long sigh. “This is a lot for me to think about.”
“Yeah. It’s called adulting. So what do you say?”
She jumped up from the sofa, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door. “I gotta go. Poor Queenie needs to be let out to pee. It’s late…”
“Are you running away from me now?” Patrick asked.
“I… I… I’ll call you in the morning,” Kerry stammered, and she fled the apartment, as though she were being chased by Hans Gruber himself.
chapter 44
“Kerry! Kerry!” Someone was pounding on the camper door. “Hey! Unlock the door!”
It was Murphy. She sat up, and Queenie, who’d burrowed under the covers beside her sometime during the night, gave a brief yelp of protest.
The temperature inside the trailer was like a deep freezer. Colder, if possible, than it had been when she’d returned there just a few hours earlier. She switched the tiny light sconce by her bunk, but nothing happened. She glanced at the woefully inadequate space heater she’d turned on the night before; it wasn’t functioning. The power was off.
“Come on, Kere. I’m freezing. There must be a foot of snow out here.”
She wrapped a sleeping bag around her shoulders and pulled on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. She jiggled it furiously.
“I think the lock is frozen,” she called.
“Well, unfreeze it. Use your hair dryer or something.”
“Can’t. I think the power’s off. That’s why the lock is frozen.”
“Okay, now I see the issue. The extension cord was so loaded down with ice it broke. Dammit,” Murphy muttered. “Be right back.”
“Hurry,” she called. “Queenie and I need to pee.”
Ten minutes later, he was back. She heard a clicking noise and a moment later, the door opened as shards of ice fell to the ground.
Murphy held up a small butane lighter and offered a grim smile. “Come on out. Vic should be here soon. I’m gonna change, then I’ll walk Queenie and we’ll get ready to roll.”
He climbed into the trailer and quickly started to strip out of his date-night finery. “Be careful. The sidewalk’s like a skating rink. And bring me back some coffee.”
She raced, breathless, into the bodega, and saw that the clerk was the grandmother to whom she’d sold the two-dollar Christmas tree. “Can I please use your bathroom?”
The woman smiled and pointed to a door on the opposite wall, markedPRIVATE, KEEP OUT.
“Thanks,” Kerry said, when she emerged. “Two large coffees, please.”
The woman fixed her order and smiled as she handed them over. “On the house. From me and Babydoll.”
When she got back to the trailer, Murphy was squatted down on the pavement next to Jock’s truck. He stood up and wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. “Those sons of bitches. They slashed all four tires. On Spammy too.”
“You think it was the brothers?” Kerry hadn’t looked at the truck in at least two days, since the last time Murphy had moved it.
“Who else?”
