Page 11 of Married with Mayhem

Her palm brushes across the front of my jeans and she clucks her tongue over the bulge. “What will you show me next?”

“Don’t know. Let’s get creative.” I reach behind my neck, pull my t-shirt over my head and toss it on the card table.

Rochelle’s eyes light up at the sight of my chest. She bats her false eyelashes.

“You want to hear the truth, Monte?”

Probably not, but I say, “Go for it.”

She licks her lips and giggles. “I’ve had a gigantic crush on you since, like, seventh grade. Did you know that it never really went away?”

Didn’t know. And don’t care.

“When Livy and I were in the neighborhood and she said we ought to stop by, I only agreed because I was hoping to run into you. I’m always hoping to run into you.”

This isn’t going to happen at all if she doesn’t stop talking. I don’t have the time or the interest in anything more than quick exercise so I might as well cut to the chase. I pull a condom out of my wallet.

Rochelle’s face puckers into a frown. “I’m on birth control,” she complains. “I mean, we’ve known each other since elementary school.”

Oh, HELL no.

My face turns to stone and my tone becomes harsh. “Listen, it makes no difference if we shared the same fucking sandboxtwenty years ago or if I just met you yesterday. I don’t ever march into battle without a shield. Got it?”

She huffs out her annoyance. “Fine.”

But she also slithers out of her tank top so things are at least moving along.

All of a sudden my phone starts buzzing. Out of habit, I haul it out of my back pocket, with no intention of answering.

Until I see the name flashing on the screen.

GAMER GIRL

Huh. That’s unexpected.

Last year, the death of mob boss Albie Barone sent his widow running back to her Sicilian roots. She was joined by the youngest Barone daughter, the one with the sweet face of an angel, the ripe body of a porn queen and the bizarre brain of a tech geek.

Sabrina.

As the echo of her name runs through my mind, the effect is both strong and instant.

“Back up,” I say to Rochelle. “I’ve got to take this.”

Her eyes go flat and her lower lip pokes out. If she thinks pouting moves the needle then she’s got another thing coming. Go ahead and throw a fucking fit for all I care.

I turn my back to Rochelle so I don’t need to watch her sulk while I answer the phone. “Sabrina?”

“Hi, Monte. Um, how are you?”

Hearing her voice again is a jolt. Wherever she’s calling from, it’s loud. Over the blend of noises, a calm voice bleats unclear instructions from a loudspeaker.

“I’m all right,” I say. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

After all, it’s not every day that Sabrina Barone calls me out of the blue.

“Well,” she says, then pauses.

I wait. She blows out a loud breath and then explodes into a monologue.

---