Page 72 of Sweet Little Thing

“It’s quieter around here with Presley gone. Thanks for that,” he said, as we started toward the building.

“Yes, it is. But I didn’t really do anything. She decided to leave.” I didn’t understand why they were all so sure it was me who sent her running.

“You’re living under his roof. That was all she needed to go insane. Well, she was already insane. You only pushed her over the cliff. Figuratively speaking. However, if you do push her off a real cliff, give me a call. I’ll help you hide the body.”

I paused and stared up at him. He was joking. Right?

He started laughing and patted me on the back. “Ease up there, beautiful. It was a joke.”

I relaxed and started walking again.

“How did you meet Stone? Rumor is you were his friend’s, uh, what’s the guy’s name?”

“Jasper,” I said, wishing he wasn’t asking me about this, but he’d been so nice I couldn’t be rude.

“Yeah, Jasper. Met him once. He doesn’t come here much. Anyway, the chatter among the girls is that you’re his ex or that you were his maid. No one seems to know for sure. I was leaning toward the latter since I can’t see why he’d be giving his buddy’s ex a place to live.”

He opened the door for me to enter, and I went inside. I regretted agreeing to dinner now. There was no way I could explain this and still be vague.

“If I’m being nosy, tell me,” he said, sounding as if he felt bad about asking.

“It’s not that…it’s just a very long and confusing story. One I don’t want to share. I’d rather forget.”

He gave me a nod of understanding. Then stepped in front of me to open the door to his apartment. I heard country music playing, and the smell of bacon drifted to me as we walked inside.

“Brought company! You got on clothes?” Mack called out loudly.

The idea of Marty with no clothes on made me blush.

Marty stepped out of an open doorway into the entry room. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt that said US Marines on it. A large spoon was in his hand, and his face broke into a grin. “Beulah! Damn, that’s a relief. Sometimes he shows up with women that annoy the hell out of me all night.”

“Whatever. You fucking loved Layla,” Mack said, dropping the gym bag he’d been carrying on the floor beside the door.

Marty shrugged. “Yeah, well, it was easier to ignore the annoying shit when her profession was dancing on a pole.”

Mack chuckled, and Marty winked at me like I was in on this joke. I didn’t have much to add to the conversation, but I didn’t want to appear as if I were a prude. I went with the first thing that came to my mind.

“Our neighbor growing up was an adult dancer. She was a single mom putting herself through college. After she got her nursing degree, she stopped dancing. She also started eating a lot of bread. She was always bringing us a loaf.”

I was rambling about a lady I hadn’t thought of in a very long time. Her daughter Melanie was three years younger than me and ended up getting pregnant at fifteen and running away. I wondered what had happened to both of them.

“Got to love a stripper with a goal. Bet that bread packed some weight on her,” Mack said, walking toward Marty and what I assumed was the kitchen.

It had. She’d gained about thirty pounds the first year she was a nurse. I didn’t mention that.

“Enough about the beauty of naked women dancing. Come try the bacon wrapped mushrooms I just took off the grill. They’re fucking delicious,” Marty said, waving me toward him.

I followed them both into the kitchen and saw what could only be described as cooking destruction. There were open cabinets, spilled ingredients, and even some splatters of what looked like sauce all over the place. I paused mid-step and looked around the room in horror. What in the world had happened?

Mack glanced back at me, holding a toothpick stuck in a bacon-wrapped mushroom. “Try it. He’s right. It’s fantastic.”

I continued to stare at the mess he’d made.

“Marty isn’t a clean cook. You’ll get used to it. He can’t seem to create anything without a disaster around him.”

I managed a nod like that made sense, but honestly, I had never seen such havoc created by simply cooking. “Is that…a slice of onion on the fridge door?” I asked, still trying to take in the wrecked kitchen.

Marty glanced back and laughed. “Yeah. Guess it is. Not sure how I managed that.”

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