Page 85 of Average Joe

Singleton made to follow, but was thwarted when Con wrapped an arm around his neck and steered him in the opposite direction.

Marco clapped my shoulder. He’d liked my idea so much he’d been the first to offer a partnership. “Got a name for this ridiculous business?”

“Yeah.” Marley’s face flashed into my mind. I liked her sweet, but something about her spunk when she was riled stirred my blood. And that woman was about to get her feathers ruffled again. “Got the perfect name.”

* * *

Fifty-seven minutes. I lasted one measly hour after Marley pulled into her driveway before I turned off the baseball game and headed next door.

Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Joe, and I’m a pussy-whipped motherfucker.

I knocked. Waited. Knocked again. A litany of profanities came from around the corner. I followed the colorful language through the gate and found Marley storming my way, shoving her hands into a pair of work gloves.

“What’s that grin for?” she asked, moving past me, her lack of greeting rude but not entirely out of character. Sawdust stuck to her baggy jeans. A wide tool belt cinched her dirty, white T-shirt at the waist.

“Ah, had a good day, that’s all.” She dodged my kiss and bent to retrieve a plywood board from where it leaned against the side of her house.

“Let me get that.” I moved to help, but she twisted away and headed in the opposite direction.

“I got it” came her clipped reply.

The woman was in a mood, but I was pumped for battle.Bring it, baby.

I followed, uninvited, to the back, drew a deep breath when I spied the shattered window, then took time for another long inhale and exhale before asking, “What the hell happened here?”

My question fell on deaf ears. Marley plucked two screws from her belt, stuck them between her teeth, lifted the board like it weighed nothing, then ascended the step ladder.

“Here.” I moved to her side, ready to bear the weight of the cutout. “Let me help.”

With a huff, she bumped me out of the way, mumbling through the screws, “I can do it myself.”

Her fight was lackluster at best, which meant the shit on her mind weighed heavy.

“I know you can do it,” I grumbled, then shoved myself between her and the board. “But I’m right here. Let me help.”

“Fine.”

Temper in check, but barely, I asked through gritted teeth, “What happened?”

“Bird,” she grumbled, tugging a drill from her belt.

“That was no bird.”

Marley huffed, “A flock of birds.”

I called her bluff. “Bullshit.”

My blood boiled, and my heart threatened to burst through my rib cage. She could’ve been hurt, or worse.

“What did they steal?”

“Don’t worry about it, Joe.”

“Woman!” Done with the back-and-forth, I dropped the wood at my feet and turned to face my frustrating lady. “You do not get to tell me what I can and cannot worry about. Did someone break into your house or not?”

“They tried,” she said to the sky, blinking rapidly, then shaking off her emotion. “Bruce must’ve scared them off.”

“Thank fuck for that beautiful beast.” That dog was getting a fucking T-bone steak, fresh from the butcher.

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