The Harem on the Hill (Part XV) (Patreon)

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Let's turn this quarantine into a quaran-TINA with an extra-long chapter of The Harem on the Hill!  I'm transitioning to work from home, so no choices this week, but I'll be back with another choice-filled chapter ASAP!) 

You place the envelope in Tina's hand and unlock the door.  Tina exhales hard, then gets out and strolls towards the dilapidated brick building.  Hints of her breath trail behind in the cool morning air.

Once she reaches the entrance, you bring up her bracelet camera on your phone.  The view is shaky, but you can clearly see a surveillance camera with a blinking red light pointed towards her as she enters through the apartment's security screen. 

You take a sip of coffee.  So far so good.

Just as you're removing the lid to take a bigger swig, however, the screen goes black.  Scalding liquid sloshes over your hand and onto your pants.  

"Shit!"             

You fumble with your phone while dabbing the spill with tissue from your console.  Both the phone and camera seem fine.  The view is obscured, but you still hear the echoing click of Tina's shoes against the hard floor of the corridor.  Perhaps the camera simply got covered by her sweatshirt sleeve.

Your relief is short-lived.  Seconds later, a series of rapid-fire thumps pump from the phone's speakers.  The sound is unmistakable.

It's knocking.  

"Son of a--"

For a brief moment, you debate what to do.  (Call her?  Retrieve her?  Zap her?)  Unfortunately, that's all it takes for someone to answer the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" a gruff male voice demands. 

"Not here," Tina whispers.  "Inside."  

The next sounds you hear are a slamming door and the metallic 'click' of a deadbolt.  It might as well be your prison cell.

"What's going on?"  The gravelly voice continues.  "Are you in trouble?"

"I don't know.  Can we sit for a sec?"

"Sure.  Are you hungry?"

"No," Tina says, adding an ironic chuckle.  "I can't stay long."

"What's up?" the man says after a brief pause.

"I'm afraid you won't be seeing much of me anymore.  Actually, that's not true.  You'll be seeing much more of me when you do see me, but you won't be seeing me as much."

"You're not making sense, Tina."  

You're unsure who this dude is, but the familiarity with which he addresses Tina makes it clear he's not just her landlord. 

Tina takes a deep breath.  "You know that guy?"

"Which guy?"

"THE guy."  

"THE guy?"

You're tempted to scream, "she means me!" into the phone to break-up their Abbott and Costello routine.  Fortunately, the mystery man catches on.

"Oh, THAT guy?"

"Yes," Tina says.  "I'm with him now."

"You don't say.  Does he kn--"

Even without a view of the proceedings, you can picture Tina holding up her hand to stifle his follow-up.   

"We're very happy.  In fact, he bought me this bracelet."  

Suddenly, the screen floods with light to reveal a rugged man in his 50s, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, seated on a 1970s sofa.  His close-cropped hair suggests a military background, as do the faded tats along his forearms.  Apart from a cane that lies across his lap, he still looks in fighting shape; however, his gentle eyes and snub nose belie his battle face.  They also evidence an inconvenient truth:

You've just met Tina's Father.

The man leans so close his distorted, fisheye lens face fills your screen.  You can't help sit-up straight and suck-in your stomach.

"Wow!" he says, easing back.  "That's a beaut!"

Tina hands him the envelope.  "He also wanted me to give you this."  

"What's this for?"  His eyes go wide as he opens the envelope.    

"That's six-months rent."  

He extends the envelope back to her.  "I've never charged you rent."

"Just keep it.  You may need to hire somebody.  And I don't want you renting out my place."

"You know I would never do that, babycakes."

"I know, Dad," Tina says, providing paternal proof.  

Both of them rise and, seconds later, you're participating in a dizzying group hug.  Mercifully, Tina's sleeve slides back over the camera before you need Dramamine.  

"Uh-oh, somebody's been eating a few too many of those coffee shop scones." 

"Da-ad."  You imagine Tina pulling away at the good-natured teasing. 

"When will I see you again?"   

There's a long pause.  

"I don't know," Tina says.  

Another pause.

"We may do some traveling..."

Suddenly, it sounds as if a rat is clawing its way through your phone.  The scratching nearly drowns-out Tina's voice. 

"So it may be a while before you see me again..."

You adjust the volume.  It's not distortion.

"But I promise I'll visit."  

The scratching ends abruptly and it dawns on you what Tina was doing--

Writing. 

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, sweetie."

Unsurprisingly, the on-screen view returns as Tina exits the building.  Despite her gain, there is a renewed spring in her step.  She even jogs a few feet towards your car--the most exercise she's gotten in weeks.  

"Thank you," Tina says, as she buckles her seatbelt.

You nod and start the engine.  "No more long sleeves though."

"Deal."  

Tina rests her head against the window as you begin the long drive back to your harem on the hill.