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“It’s going to rain. If you get wet you don’t have anything to change into.”
A flick of his head in her direction. “That’s not your problem.”
“Better not be my problem.” Nat, coming up the stairs. She hit the top, came face to face with Drum, said, “Hello,” then, with deadly curiosity, “Foley?”
Foley peered around Drum. “Yeah, I’m here.”
Nat to Drum again. “Can I help you with whatever it is you don’t think is her problem?” What Nat’d heard put a thick layer of defensive sarcasm in her tone.
“No,” he said.
Nat stood in Drum’s path, arms full of grocery bags. He was tensed to move as soon as she stepped out of his way.
“Drum, wait.”
Nat said, “Oh hell, yeah.”
Foley grimaced, hearing the rat in Nat’s brain spin the wheel. She stepped around Drum. “We were just going.”
“Not yet you’re not.” Nat shoved the bags at Drum, “Here, hold these,” dropping one at his feet with a clink. He took them, surprise arching his brows. “Wait here, she’ll be back.”
Nat grabbed Foley’s arm and dragged her inside the flat, shut the door, backing up against it. “That’s him. That incredible bronzed god is the homeless, hermit squatter caveman who I’m not supposed to know about. What is he doing here?”
“Ah.” She’d never told Nat his name.
“Who you spent the night with.” Nat slapped Foley’s arm. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Shhh. I didn’t spend the night with him. He doesn’t like to be touched.”
“So you tried.”
“No. Oh shit. Nat. No. I left my wallet there and he brought it back. I’m going to drive him home.”
“To his cave, which you’re trying to evict him from?”
“Yes, we have a deal.”
Nat jammed her hands over her ears. “La, la, la, la. Don’t tell me if I can’t know this.” She dropped her hands. “You’re messing with me?” She glared. “No, you’re not, are you? His shirt hardly has any buttons. If those boardies were any more faded you’d see skin. He’s not your friendly Friday night fuck, he really is your destitute cave-dwelling bum.”
“Nat, stop, please.” How could she see the details of other people so clearly and not know she was still only wearing one earring?
“Me, stop. What are you doing? You can’t hang around with him like he’s a normal guy.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re just driving him back to his cliff top hideaway with its billion dollar views like a chauffeur service then.”
“I’m buying him something to eat and driving him home.”
“Oh my God. Foley. You’re going on a date with a homeless dude.”
They stared at each other. Of course it wasn’t a date. That was ludicrous. Nat moved. She put her hand to the doorknob. “I’m going to talk to him. This is not a secret anymore.”
Foley planted both hands around Nat and pushed on the door. “No, you’re not.”
Nat was half turned with her elbow up. It poked in Foley’s chest. They were locked awkwardly against each other, like in a bad TV sitcom. Neither of them were giving in.
Nat jostled her arm against Foley’s sternum. “He came to my home. Open game. If he won’t talk, I won’t harass him, but he’s a story and you can’t protect him from me anymore.”
