in the shadows. Through the darkness, she thought she saw the gleam of his teeth for a moment. As he was almost out of sight, she noticed he’d stepped away from the building.
Oh , please, don’t let him be following me. She rushed to the end of the block. She took a quick glance over her shoulder. She didn’t see him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there behind the dumpster or the mountain of clutter by the road.
Sara’s wheels spun over the sidewalk as she hurried. She had lived in this neighborhood for only two months—not enough time for a crippled recluse to meet the people who lived near her. She looked around to find some comfort. All she saw now were rundown apartment buildings with few lighted windows. She knew that if she needed help, she’d be lucky to find it. To survive here, people learned to avoid trouble.
S ara chanced another glance behind her. The same tall figure bounded toward her, half a block away. She wheeled faster. She was going so fast, her arms should have been burning by now. She had to be running on pure adrenaline.
The next block was hers. Her apartment was in the last building on the right, next to a grove of coconut trees riddled with beer cans, cigarette butts, and other discarded trash. Beyond that lay the ocean shore.
She flew across the parking lot to the glass door that led to safety.
What in the world? This wasn’t her door. The cracks were gone and the metal was shiny and new.
“What are you doing…?” an angry male voice beat in her ear. Gretchen would have been proud of her knee-jerk reaction. Sara pulled the pepper spray out of her pocket and took aim, spraying the large figure in the face.
“ Awwwwww, Gromot.” If she thought the voice had sounded angry before, it was furious now. Funny, she had a flash of déjà vu, as if she’d heard that irate voice before.
S ara fumbled with her keys. After several failed attempts, she finally grabbed the right key and tried to thrust it into the lock. It only went a quarter of the way. “Oh please, oh please, oh please,” she chanted as she tried again and again to get her key to work.
“Sara Taylor.” The voice calmed, slightly less menacing, and then she recognized it.
“May I ask what I did to deserve getting sprayed in the eyes wi th acid?” Mr. Dimitriou bent over and pressed hands on his face. He dabbed at his red eyes.
“Oh , Mr. Dimitriou, I’m so sorry. I thought you were… Well I don’t know… but I… I thought someone was going to attack me. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was about to scold you for being out alone at dusk.” He sniffed. “But I see you brought protection and I must say it’s quite effective.”
He tried to rub his eyes, “Uhg.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you. Come inside and you can rinse your eyes out.” She tried once again to unlock the door. “I can’t seem to get my key to work.”
“I know you can’t. This is a new door with a new lock. I was just going to give you your key when you… uh.” He sighed. “Well, never mind.” He squinted at the lock, slipped in the key, and turned it.
“Oh.” She was speechless. Feeling like an idiot often robbed her of her powers of speech.
Mr. Dimitriou gave the door a gentle shove and it swung open on its own. “This new door should make it easier for you to get in and out of the building.”
“Oh , um, thank you.” And why is he spending so much money accommodating my needs? Mr. Dimitriou followed her down the hall and stopped at her new steel door. It looked like the main door wasn’t the only one he’d replaced. Sara remembered her conversation with Gretchen.
Could he be infatuated with her? She looked him over.
No way.
There was no possible way a man who looked like he stepped out of a Gladiator movie could be interested in a little, handicapped woman. She’d always thought Ron Hathaway was good looking, but compared to Mr. Dimitriou? Well, there was no competition.
Oh , please, don’t let him be following me. She rushed to the end of the block. She took a quick glance over her shoulder. She didn’t see him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there behind the dumpster or the mountain of clutter by the road.
Sara’s wheels spun over the sidewalk as she hurried. She had lived in this neighborhood for only two months—not enough time for a crippled recluse to meet the people who lived near her. She looked around to find some comfort. All she saw now were rundown apartment buildings with few lighted windows. She knew that if she needed help, she’d be lucky to find it. To survive here, people learned to avoid trouble.
S ara chanced another glance behind her. The same tall figure bounded toward her, half a block away. She wheeled faster. She was going so fast, her arms should have been burning by now. She had to be running on pure adrenaline.
The next block was hers. Her apartment was in the last building on the right, next to a grove of coconut trees riddled with beer cans, cigarette butts, and other discarded trash. Beyond that lay the ocean shore.
She flew across the parking lot to the glass door that led to safety.
What in the world? This wasn’t her door. The cracks were gone and the metal was shiny and new.
“What are you doing…?” an angry male voice beat in her ear. Gretchen would have been proud of her knee-jerk reaction. Sara pulled the pepper spray out of her pocket and took aim, spraying the large figure in the face.
“ Awwwwww, Gromot.” If she thought the voice had sounded angry before, it was furious now. Funny, she had a flash of déjà vu, as if she’d heard that irate voice before.
S ara fumbled with her keys. After several failed attempts, she finally grabbed the right key and tried to thrust it into the lock. It only went a quarter of the way. “Oh please, oh please, oh please,” she chanted as she tried again and again to get her key to work.
“Sara Taylor.” The voice calmed, slightly less menacing, and then she recognized it.
“May I ask what I did to deserve getting sprayed in the eyes wi th acid?” Mr. Dimitriou bent over and pressed hands on his face. He dabbed at his red eyes.
“Oh , Mr. Dimitriou, I’m so sorry. I thought you were… Well I don’t know… but I… I thought someone was going to attack me. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was about to scold you for being out alone at dusk.” He sniffed. “But I see you brought protection and I must say it’s quite effective.”
He tried to rub his eyes, “Uhg.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you. Come inside and you can rinse your eyes out.” She tried once again to unlock the door. “I can’t seem to get my key to work.”
“I know you can’t. This is a new door with a new lock. I was just going to give you your key when you… uh.” He sighed. “Well, never mind.” He squinted at the lock, slipped in the key, and turned it.
“Oh.” She was speechless. Feeling like an idiot often robbed her of her powers of speech.
Mr. Dimitriou gave the door a gentle shove and it swung open on its own. “This new door should make it easier for you to get in and out of the building.”
“Oh , um, thank you.” And why is he spending so much money accommodating my needs? Mr. Dimitriou followed her down the hall and stopped at her new steel door. It looked like the main door wasn’t the only one he’d replaced. Sara remembered her conversation with Gretchen.
Could he be infatuated with her? She looked him over.
No way.
There was no possible way a man who looked like he stepped out of a Gladiator movie could be interested in a little, handicapped woman. She’d always thought Ron Hathaway was good looking, but compared to Mr. Dimitriou? Well, there was no competition.
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