Page 62 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
“That’s Churro,” Ras says, turning away from me before…adjusting his pants?
A thrill zings up my spine.
“My parrot,” he adds.
My mind struggles to catch up. “Yourwhat?”
“My parrot,” he says as he makes his way across the kitchen toward where the noise came from.
I follow. “Why do you have a parrot?”
“He’s a pet.” He glances down and mutters, “I need to get a new shirt.”
I watch as Ras grasps the back of his T-shirt with one hand and pulls it over his head, flashing me his tanned, muscular back before he disappears into another room.
I swallow and keep following him.
The room seems to be his bedroom. The blinds are nearly fully drawn, casting the room in shadows.
Ras grabs a shirt out of a drawer and slips it on. “Churro doesn’t like it when it’s bright, so I keep him here,” he explains nodding toward the corner of the room where there’s a large bird cage.
I look around, still reeling from the last few minutes. There’s a large bed with a modern-looking bed frame, a leather armchair with a stack of books beside it, and a desk.
Ras lifts the blinds a little, and the grays of the room suddenly transform into shades of blue.
I move closer and peer into the bird cage. It’s got multiple levels connected with all sorts of ladders, and toys and feeders hang off the bars. Inside, a green and yellow parrot the size of my forearm stares at me with one orange eye.
“Pretty girl! Pretty girl!”
“He says that to every woman,” Ras says. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
I glare at him. “Why do I have a feeling you’re lying? I’m going to think I’m special until I see evidence proving otherwise, thank you very much.”
Ras’s lips quirk up. He taps against one of the bars, and the parrot hops over to peck his finger. Something soft bleeds into his expression. “He’s a little Casanova.”
“I have so many questions.” If I’d had to guess what kind of pet a guy like Ras would have, a parrot wouldn’t even make it in the top ten possibilities.
“I’m sure.” There’s that familiar sarcastic lilt to his voice.
“How long have you had him?”
“About three years. He was supposed to be a gift for Mari, but Dem categorically refused to let him live with them.” Ras jingles one of the toys. “I liked the little guy, and I didn’t feel like returning him. He’s an Amazon parrot. They live for fifty, sixty years, and they’re really smart.”
The parrot cocks his yellow head. “Fuck off!”
“And all you taught him is how to swear and compliment women?”
Ras looks down at me, a grin teasing at his lips. “The most critical skills, don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.
Ras checks the watch on his wrist. “I’ve got to pack. Churro will keep you company. Someone’s picking him up in just a few minutes.”
He disappears inside a walk-in closet, and I refocus my attention on the parrot, playing with him for a few minutes by tapping on the cage and jingling his toys. He makes happy little squawks. When he hops down to the feeder and starts to peck at it, I let him eat in peace and resume my study of Ras’s room.
There’s something profoundly intimate about being in a man’s space.
Especially his bedroom.
