“You gotta do it to make your shit feel better. Do it. But there’s a washer and dryer here. Off the side hall, at the back.”

“That’s thirty-five cents,” I told him, not sharing my relief that they had a washer and dryer. That would save me tons of time, not to mention money.

He crossed his arms on his chest. “You do know with this shit you’re pullin’ that no way in fuck I’m ever gonna stop and help a woman change her tire again.”

“That’s fifty cents.”

He stared at me.

Then he turned on his boot and stalked to the door, muttering, “Fuck me.”

“Sixty cents!” I yelled at his back.

But he was gone.

I stared at the door, wondering how that went.

There were no kisses or even heated glances (outside angry heat, but that didn’t count). He didn’t even act like he was talking to a woman he’d kissed (thoroughly) just the day before.

That was bad.

But he’d given in relatively easily to me cleaning his space and doing his laundry.

However, this could be so he wouldn’t have to be around me in order to fight about it.

That would also be bad.

But it could be he liked the idea of me hanging around because he liked the idea of me being around. It also could be, since he obviously didn’t have anyone to look after him, and didn’t look after himself, he liked the idea of someone doing that.

Before I could make my decision about which it was, good or bad, I focused on the door I was staring at distractedly.

One of the men who’d been sitting with Joker at the bar the day before was standing in it. He was older than Joker. Stockier. He had slivers of gray in his dark brown hair that was shorter than Joker’s but still messy. He had what I was approximating as nine weeks of stubble, also silvered with gray.

He also had his eyes on me.

“Uh, hi,” I called.

“Hey,” he replied.

“I saw you yesterday but I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Carissa.”

“High.”

“Um…” I tipped my head to the side, wondering why he was greeting me again. “Hi.”

“No, babe. That’s my name. High. With a g and h.”

“Oh!” I grinned at him. “High. Right, hello, High. Nice to meet you.”

He didn’t return that sentiment.

He gave me a look that made me brace and said in a quiet voice, “Don’t give up.”

I felt my head jerk in confusion. “On Joker’s room?”

“On Joker,” he stated.

I felt my eyes go round.

He disappeared.

* * *

The next day, I walked to the door of the Compound wondering if I’d made the right decision.