“Maybe try it again?”
Dante rang the doorbell a third time.
“Is it working?” Anja said, cradling her bloody hand.
“I can hear it,” Dante said.
“Maybe she’s not home.”
“Her car’s here.”
“I hope we’re not waking her up. You know how cranky she gets,” Anja said.
“Well.” Dante sighed and stepped down from the front porch.
“Maybe we should go to
the hospital. I can’t have you standing out here all night bleeding.”
“They’ll do a blood test and know about the chloroform, Dante.”
Dante pulled his jacket back onto Anja’s shoulder after it started to slip off. “Well…” He marched back up the stairs. As soon as he reached for the bell, the door swung open. A beautiful blonde woman in her early twenties glanced Dante up and down.
“What up, slut?” she said.
Anja dropped her forehead into her good hand, shaking her head.
“Good to see you, Rory,” Dante said.
Rory left the door open as she moved through her house. Dante helped Anja up the stairs and inside. He shut the door.
“Sorry it took so long to answer. I was reading a book, had to poop, rushed to the bathroom and the damn turd wanted to play peek-a-boo for fifteen minutes,” Rory said.
“Lovely,” Dante said.
He guided Anja to a bar stool in the kitchen.
“Looks like you got a little blood on your hand,” Rory said from across the bar counter.