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“Well, let me tell you, it wasn’t that hot,” she said, squinching her face up.
Curiosity must have gotten the better of him because he picked up a broken chip from her plate and dipped it in the Bugula tin, popping it in his mouth. He forced it down with a sip from her sparkling water. “Mild improvement,” he said, smacking his lips. “Even creative.”
She snickered. “It’s better with the hot sauce.”
“I guess I didn’t feed you enough.”
“Couldn’t sleep…”
They were interrupted by a loud knock on the front door.
His eyes flew to hers. “Did you use the landline phone to call anyone?” he asked nervously.
She slowly shook her head. “I’m assuming you aren’t expecting anyone. Maybe we should turn off the lights,” she suggested, waving to the clear glass windows on the front of the house that made them highly visible.
“They’ve probably already seen us, don’t you think?”
“Not if they came from the driveway. There aren’t any windows on the first floor on that side of the house.”
He twisted his lips. “Would it worry me to know how you know that?”
“Naw. Sneaking out of the house stuff when we were teenagers. Got to know where the blind spots are.” She got up and flipped off the kitchen and hall lights, leaving them in darkness. The knocks came again. “I’m going to look through the peephole and see who it is.”
“They could be watching through the windows,” he whispered.
“I’ll stay low.” Morgan stepped into the great room, crouched, and duck-walked toward the door, staying behind chairs and the long sectional sofa for cover. When she reached the foyer, where she was no longer visible from the windows, she made her way to the peephole. Standing at the front door under the porch light were two hulky men in black suits. They looked like they could flip over a tire from a transfer truck with their pinky fingers and did it quite regularly.
“Who is it?” Bash whispered in her ear, nearly giving her a heart attack.
She swatted him in the chest. “Don’t sneak up on me!” she shout-whispered. “You almost scared the poop out of me.”
“Poop? Didn’t anyone teach you how to cuss?” he grinned.
She rolled my eyes. “Story for another time. There are two goony guys out there that could crush us with their big toes.” Bash wasn’t a large guy. About 5’10”, and even though he was well-toned for his size, he was no match for the dudes at the door.
His face fell, all humor evaporating.
She lifted an eyebrow and cocked her thumb to the door. “Those guys aren’t here to sell you a lawn maintenance contract. They’re more like the ‘help you meet your maker’ kind of guys.”
He leaned into the door for a glance and turned back quickly. “Oh fuck!”
“Would you please stop using that word? For a writer, your descriptive use of the English language seems to be a bit limited. You have used that word as an adjective, adverb, and subject. Luckily, I haven’t heard you use it as a verb yet.”
“I’ll take that into consideration. In the meantime, we’ve got to get out of here,” he said, rubbing his hands through his hair.
“If one of us doesn’t answer the door, they’ll think no one is home, and it’s okay to break in,” she whispered. “We have to let them know people are home.”
Three loud knocks again.
He walked in a circle, wringing his hands, then stopped, looking her straight in the eyes. “They can’t see me. Or know I’m here.”
That statement prompted a million questions, but there wasn’t time. She threw up her arms, flailing her hands in frustration. “My Pops spent his whole paranoid life preparing me for this very scenario, and it never happened…until now. And it isn’t even about me. Grrrrr!” She poked him in the chest. “Get in the closet.” He looked at her like she had lost my mind. “Or you can open the door and let them in.”
“I’m not a coward, and I’m certainly not leaving you to face them alone,” he said sternly.
“I promise. I’ve got this. Please trust me.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
