“Wow, you should change the locks on your door.” Warned a voice in the dark.
Okay, not the welcoming he’d looked forward to. There was no way he could have knocked on his door. He looked into the dim room and saw an outline of a man sitting on a chair.
“Ricky,”
“Jerome,”
Jerome was beefy, broad from the shoulders down, built like a pro footballer. He was a big man, only an inch or so shorter than Ricky and fit. In shirt sleeves, he showed more hair on his arms and chest than the average monkey. He always avoided pools because most people would ask who opened the gate for the monkey.
The only place devoid of hair was his tonsure at the top of his head where he was beginning to bald. His brows were dark and heavy, they seemed to be perpetually migrating to the center of his head.
The only softest aspect of his face was the two blue eyes, deep set as they were under brows that kept moving like ledges of a rock.
Ricky held something on his hand as the chair wobbled.
“You haven’t changed a bit.” Jerome said.
“I’ll go straight to the point, stay away from Flora if you want your money back.” His soft sigh whispered past Jerome’s ear.