Dotty stepped across her worn carpet in front of Charlie. Damn it. Why doesn't anyone listen to me?
"He was probably joking, Aunt Dotty. Either that or he knew you were listening and thought he had have some fun with you. I have noticed he has an odd sense of humor."
She balled her fists and smashed them on her bony hips. "I know what I heard, Charlie. Now if you don't want to investigate it, I will send Steve, but someone has to look in the basement. What if there's a coffin down there?"
Steve smiled from the other room, then joined them. "I have been down there to clean the lint traps in the dryers, and while I am there I check the water heater and oil tanks. I think I'd have noticed a coffin, dear."
"Well, I am not going down there until you check again, so I hope you enjoy doing your own laundry." Hey, maybe I can get some assistance around the apartment out of this scare, if nothing else.
He grinned. "So it's okay for me to get bitten by the creepy vampire…"
Uh-oh. Time to backpedal. She would not be much use as a maintenance man if anything happened to Steve.
Dotty raked her fingernails over her scalp, through her short, graying permed hair. "You are right. I should call the police and make them check it out."
"Please don't! I cannot have them here all the time. It will be in the newspapers and call attention to where I live." Charlie said.
"Oh, you're being silly. No one will write a story about where you live. I'm sure they must know that celebrities want their privacy." Honestly! He's so full of himself sometimes.
Steve frowned. "And you think they'll respect that? Dotty, will you listen to your nephew? He owns the building and if he doesn't want the cops to arrive for every practical joke or minor incident, don't call the damn cops!
He was nice enough to give me a job and us a place to live. If it weren't for him, I'd have been unemployed for a lot longer than eleven months."
Charlie sighed. "I'll check it out for you."
"No. I don't want anything to happen to you, either. Didn't you say you were having dinner with the nurse downstairs?" He cast her a sidelong glance.
"Yeah… Why? You don't want me to send her down there, do you?"
"Well… No, of course not. Just ask her about what Nathan said. See if she thinks he was kidding."
Steve crossed his arms over the T-shirt that barely covered his beer belly. "For God's sake. There's no such thing as vampires, woman. And how is he supposed to do that without letting her know someone was eavesdropping?" She winced. Someone, meaning me, of course.
No one appreciated her contribution. If they didn't want her to keep an eye on the place and manage it, why did they let her call herself the manager?
"Fine!" Dotty stomped off to her bedroom and blasted her oldies radio station. At that moment "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" by Bachman-Turner Overdrive served as a warning.
Just wait, you two. Something is going on here. I know it! And as soon as I can, I will show you evidence and prove my usefulness—one way or another.
Shirley's apartment smelled wonderful. The strong aromas of Italian food and cinnamon met Charlie's nose as soon as she opened the door.
"Wow, something smells delicious, Shirley. I came to see if I could give you a hand when you're ready to bring things upstairs."
"Thanks, that is nice of you. I have the lasagna in a glass casserole dish that's probably hot and heavy…" She blushed.
Oops. Freudian slip much?
"Uh, so if you want to take that, um… You will need potholders. Here." She shoved the childish pot holders at him.
"I never asked who made these. Do you have a niece or nephew?" Charlie asked.
"Nope. I made them—at summer camp about a zillion years ago. My father keeps everything." She blushed harder.
"The dessert is just apple crisp."
"Mmm… Lasagna. How did you know my number one weakness? And 'just' apple crisp? The only thing that could top that would be apple pie à la mode." She had changed the subject, so he'd tease her about the potholders some other time.
"Man, I can hardly wait. I love those two things. You've got me salivating already." His mouth watered over more than the food.
They hadn't discussed how to dress, and he'd assumed she'd wear something casual, like jeans and a sweater. But she wore a clingy red dress. He wondered if she knew how delicious she looked in it.
Shirley opened the oven door. "I was going to put tin foil over the pan, but if you're hungry and want to eat right away, there's no need to."
He drew the bubbling dish out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. "No, we can take our time. I didn't mean to rush dinner, and I won't starve to death if we spend an extra half hour getting to know each other over a glass of wine."
She smiled. "Sounds good to me."
Did it? He really hoped she was game for involvement with someone whose entire life could be taken over by his livelihood. At times, he wished more than anything that he had someone waiting for him at home.
Shirley's presence in his building could be the next best thing. She seemed emotionally stable—so far. Actually, more stable than some of his rabid fans.
Loaded down with the heavy dish, Charlie let her get the door and lock it behind them.
He asked her to extract his key card from his front pocket rather than balance the heavy lasagna pan on one wide open palm and hope not to drop it.
"Okaaay." She gingerly fished the proximity card out of his pocket and held it up to the elevator's scanner. A slight blush colored her cheeks.