“The pin pad broken?” Mallory asked.

“No, it’s just-” Lenore glanced back to me.

I wasn’t a criminal. 

I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to take me through the direct entrance, or risk me seeing the code to get in. The statistics of women living alone and violent incidents supported her caution. I couldn’t deny facts.

“You’ve brought a man home? In broad daylight?” Mallory started yelling.

“No,” Lenore said quickly. “He-”

Her mouth opened and shut, looking for an answer, but she failed to grasp for anything other than the truth.

“I’m just here to fix something,” I offered.

Relief washed over Lenore’s face, her hands going slack.

“If something broke, I would’ve fixed it,” Mallory said to her friend, ignoring my presence.

It was like I didn’t even exist in the conversation.

Textbook narcissist. 

The need for Lenore’s full attention and acting superior—I wasn’t sure how Lenore put up with this woman on a daily basis. A friendship so one sided would be exhausting.

Maybe that was just the excuse I told myself for keeping most people at arm’s length, unable to fully throw my emotions into any sort of relationship. Facts and research were what I placed my trust in; emotions were far more complicated, unpredictable.

“My laptop,” Lenore added. “He’s here to fix a bug on my laptop.”

Clever.

She’d beat me to coming up with a new excuse for my presence. I doubted this woman knew anything of Lenore’s research, and it seemed Lenore was just as keen to keep it that way.

“I didn’t know tech freaks made house calls,” she scoffed, finally glancing my direction.

Ouch. 

Can’t say that I wasn’t used to the comments. My unusually high IQ made me a target even at the FBI Academy. My brain was my weapon; I was never built to be the strongest or most agile. Knowledge was power.

“Mallory,” Lenore hissed.

“Not the first I’ve heard it and won’t be the last.” I shrugged.  “And I don’t have, what did you call them? Endless tourists? Just me and my tech all day long.”

The frown on her face was worth every second of the ruse.

I couldn’t help but let myself feel a bit of satisfaction.

“Best we get going,” Lenore interrupted, grabbing my arm and tugging me past Mallory, whose eyes were wide.

“Key, please, Mallory,” Lenore demanded, her tone serious.

Mallory made her way back behind the counter and tracked down her key ring. She tossed it over to Lenore.

We walked toward a door behind the counter, unlabeled. The key ring jingled as she sorted through the multiple keys and found the one she wanted, placing it into the keyhole and unlocking the door.