Read Chicago Stories: West of Western for Free Online

and waited for her, but she couldn't move. Over ten years ago. Joe's stuff, their stuff. Shit. She pulled herself together. “True, they've been there awhile. I don't even remember what's in them,” she said. Liar.
    Her twin looked good, all shaggy dark hair and day-old beard, his jeans and sweater spotless, on the verge of disintegration and smelling faintly of Clorox and soap. Familiar and satisfying. She pointed to the boxes. “You take up what you brought and I'll get the stuff from the car.”
    “Mom never said you were squatting. I thought you rehabbed the place.” Tony dropped the last of the boxes at the top of the stairs and surveyed the loft.
    “So I've got a few things to finish. Couldn't get a mortgage because of the zoning and had to pay cash for the building. That and the basic rehab cleaned me out. It's just finishing and I'll get it later.”
    “Finishing?” Tony glanced around, his left eyebrow raised. “In your spare time? Right. I can see that. Interesting décor, especially those clever bags of mortar and the fun plastic sheeting. Original. Minimalist. Where's the kitchen?”
    “Here.” She dropped the last bag on the door/table. “As you said, minimalist. Sit and I'll fix lunch.” Fortunately for Tony, one of her stops that morning had been Whole Foods. A whole herb-roasted chicken, baguette, Greek salad, sesame noodles, oranges and bananas, Arizona iced tea. She bought enough to last her until she got paid. Or until Tony had lunch. He was watching her arrange the food like a hungry owl hovering over a field mouse.
    “Okay, so the place has promise,” Tony admitted, when he stopped grazing to breathe. “Up here on the inside, anyway. Probably could be the bomb if you ever get it done. Of course, that's if you don't get killed first.” Stuffing three Oreos in his mouth, he talked through the crumbs. “Why the hell and gone over here west of Western? You're way too close to Humboldt Park. You know what they say.”
    “Oh God. Et tu , Tony?” She snatched the rest of the cookies away and stashed them on top of the refrigerator. “I don't care what ‘they’ say. I've lived in far worse places, and I bought the building, not the neighborhood.” Her voice was too loud. “You can't judge by media crap,” she said, trying for a reasonable tone. “People live here, kids play in the street, women go shopping, and they're not dead yet.” Hell. She sounded defensive, like a bratty kid. Tony just looked at her.
    “Bucktown and Lincoln Square are west of Western,” she squirmed on her director's chair. “Lots of young professionals are moving here, and artists. It's getting better.” Shit. When she tried to defend her home, it came out sounding like one of Ellie's stupid spiels. Tony leaned back and looked skeptical, one eyebrow raised in that irritating way.
    “It's not bad here, just a little run-down.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. Seraphy frowned, grabbed a chicken leg and chomped down. Her teeth grated on bone. Better change the subject while she still had teeth left. “And it doesn't matter, anyway.” She shrugged. “I live in here, this place, not out on the street. I can take care of myself. I‘m not some Northwestern debutante . I'll deal with the neighbors after I'm settled in here.”
    “Right.” Tony got up. Suddenly she didn't want him to go.
    “Can you stick around for a while? I could use a little help. I've got thirty windows that need blinds. Last night I had to turn off the lights and walk around in the dark so I wouldn't be the neighborhood show and tell.”
    “I saw the evil-eyed old biddies across the street, and you've got a lurker watching from that second floor apartment. Not to mention the entrepreneurs on the corner. Quite an audience. Lemme check my schedule.” He retrieved the Oreos from the refrigerator. Shoving the last of them in his mouth, he pulled a torn envelope from his shirt pocket and skimmed a scribbled list. “I gotta pick up