Cajun Gothic (Blood Haven)
“I keyed myself into my building and hauled ass to the third floor. The landing was L-shaped with my flat on the far left, a studio directly ahead and another cubby masquerading as living space to my right. Both housed relatively spry seniors with inquisitive natures. They ‘watched my back’, as the eldest gentleman in the studio claimed with pride.
Not much got by either of them. In return I did small favors, fixing broken faucets, hauling groceries.
Jerry poked his head out and rasped, “Up kinda early ain’tcha, son?” He eyed the bag of pastries.
Smiling, I opened the brown bag for him to choose.
“Hear anything this morning, Jerry?”
The old gentleman reached in and selected a cannoli, carefully withdrawing it with two gnarled fingers.
“Nah, quiet today. Why? You ’specting company?”
“Not exactly. Uh, listen, Jer, I’m going to be out of town for a few. If you need anything done before I leave, I’ll be back later on today.”
“I’m good, boy, but I’ll mention it to Miz Wisner.”
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