Page 76 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

The door opened an inch and stayed there. Greta squinted
and leaned forward. She could make out the shape of an eye.
“Uh, hi, El—Mr. Doyle. We’re your tenants from down-
stairs,” Greta said, pretending she wasn’t talking to a nearly
closed door. “I’m Greta, and this is my brother, Ash.”
The door swung open. “Oh, hello there.”
Greta’s mouth opened and closed. An elfin face, with thin-
ning gray hair swept upward, like he’d slept on it wrong. His

arms hung from a sleeveless undershirt, his bowed legs lost in
a pair of fluorescent orange shorts—the kind runners wore in
the eighties—that puffed out around his nearly hairless thighs.
Black dress socks were pulled halfway up his calves, and the
look was completed by a pair of sturdy leather oxfords.
Gone, whatever words she had rehearsed. They regarded
each other. ADVANCE READING COPY

“Mr. Doyle.” Ash stepped forward. “Can we talk to you
about February’s rent?”
“Certainly. Come inside, please.” Elgin stepped back from
the door and motioned them forward.
Greta didn’t move. Ash poked her in the back, nudging
her on. She could feel him beside her, so she stepped into
the entryway. Then she forgot about Elgin’s lack of clothing.
Warm, humid air, like being dropped in the middle of the
Amazon. Green leaves bursting from everywhere. All signs

pointed to a hydroponic pot-growing operation, but all Greta
could see were ferns, spider plants and the round, stumpy
leaves of rubber plants. Foliage covered the surface of every
ledge, shelf and tabletop. Elgin motioned to the living room,

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