The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(41)

Frankie tightens his bathrobe. “Did you lose both sets of keys?”

“No, the other set is at home. I didn’t carry both. . . .”

“Oh, good, you have some common sense.”

“Wow,” Orion says. “This is how you treat your tenants?”

Frankie looks Orion up and down, then me. “It’s three in the morning. You’re lucky I came down at all.”

“Can you please let us in?” I ask.

“Only because I already cashed your rent check.” Frankie steps aside. “Don’t bleed on my floors.”

I can only imagine how much more dehumanizing he would be if he knew I was a Decker.

The building is still warm, but the air feels different. This won’t be the hall where I go into my mailbox for letters and birthday cards and bills. These stairs I’m climbing won’t be my daily leg workout. And as Frankie unlocks my apartment door, I understand this is both the first time I’ll ever return here and possibly the last.

Before I can thank Frankie and apologize again, he goes straight into his apartment.

“Nice guy,” Orion says, closing the door behind him.

I turn on the lights, regretting it immediately. This place is so bare-bones. “Feel free to sit on any box you want.”

“After we clean you up,” Orion says, setting his cap down on the counter. He runs the water in the kitchen sink, testing it. “Paper towels?”

I go into my suitcase and toss Orion the roll of toilet paper I packed because I wasn’t sure what stores were going to be open with my late arrival. Not to mention all the reports of people hoarding toilet paper across the country in anticipation of the world ending. I’ll do some shopping with Scarlett in the morning and make sure she’s set up with the basics.

I meet Orion by the kitchen sink.

“The water’s warm,” Orion says.

He steadies one hand on my shoulder and gently dabs my wound with the other. I wince, but relax into it. Keeping my eyes closed while the water continues running makes me feel like I’m being treated at a spa. I’m dangerously close to falling asleep while standing, so I hold myself up on the kitchen counter.

“You’re all set,” Orion says.

“Thanks, Doctor . . .”

“Pagan.”

“Thanks, Dr. Pagan.”

“Be right back, I’m going to go knock on Frankie’s door and ask for Band-Aids. I’m sure he’ll be so hyped to help out his favorite tenant.”

Orion holds back a laugh as he turns to leave, and I pull him into a hug, laughing harder than I thought I could on the day I’m going to die.





Frankie Dario


3:31 a.m.

Frankie could kill the new tenant.

Where does Valentino get off on disturbing him in the middle of the night? Especially on his first day here! The audacity . . .

It doesn’t matter that Frankie was already awake. That’s no one’s business. What does matter is that Frankie did his job by giving his tenant two sets of keys, per the lease, and Valentino got locked out of his apartment anyway; he probably lost his keys in whatever alley he met that boy he’s brought home. Valentino Prince? More like Valentino Princess.

Frankie will be keeping Paz far away from Valentino. There have been enough red flags as is that there’s something off about Paz, and so help him if he ever tries bringing another boy home. Frankie will go into his closet so fast and grab his—

Deep breaths.

If Frankie is being honest—and he is, you better believe that—what’s really upsetting is that he still hasn’t heard from Rolando. Hasn’t he ruined enough people’s lives already? The next time Rolando needs a favor, Frankie will take his sweet, sweet time getting it done, you better believe that too.

He dumps the rest of his coffee into the sink. He looks out his kitchen window, missing when he could look across the way and find that gorgeous, scrappy young woman in her apartment; she was always up late with different lucky men and women. But she’s moved out, and now Valentino is there, hugging that boy by the window. Frankie closes his curtain, no longer interested in anything happening within those walls.

He grabs a beer from the fridge and starts chugging, hoping to drown out his many frustrations.

All he wants is a lead on a Decker he can follow around.

How hard can that be?





Orion


3:33 a.m.

This isn’t how I imagined a boy bringing me home.

For starters, I’d thought I’d be able to buddy up with his parents or guardians, maybe some siblings and friends too. I’d be true as shit to myself, but also hype up my better qualities, like my writing and how I keep it moving even though I’ve got this heart that’s trying to stop me. Then we’d all crack jokes over some meal before I’m trusted to chill with my guy in his bedroom, where he does a lot of his living.

Instead, I’ve been playing doctor to a Decker in an empty studio.

But this Valentino hug is mad nice. I enjoy it while it lasts, and as much as I want to keep staring at his blue eyes and heart-shaped lips, I back off so he doesn’t get it twisted. I really did come to help him, not mess around.

It’s kind of a dark thought, but I bet people are going to pursue Deckers in the future to get off and move on, no strings attached; I make a mental note to tell Dalma to not create that app.