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“And I’m a woman of mine. I told you that you could stay here for a few days…a month ago. Now it’s time to find some other sucker to mooch off. And you better leave the forty bucks you took out of my purse on the table before you leave. Oh, and the extra key.”
Simon straightened. “I didn’t take your forty bucks. I borrowed it.”
“Well, I want myborrowedmoney back, or I’ll walk my butt down to the police station on the corner and file charges.”
He threw his hands up. “Whatever. I’ll write you a check.”
Not even worth the paper it was written on, no doubt. But it was better than nothing. “Fine.”
“Don’t know why you’re busting my ass for forty bucks when you got a two-million-dollar check squirreled away.” He gave her a little-boy smile aimed at making her feel crummy for holding out on him. “Not really so generous to old friends now, are you?”
His guilt trip didn’t work.
“You went through my jewelry box?” Mary Paige curled her hands and parked them on her hips so she wouldn’t wrap them around Simon’s scrawny neck. What had she ever seen in him? Okay, he was cute in a starving artist, funky, unconventional way, but that was where the charm ended.
Cookie Dreadlocks’s eyes widened. “She’s got a check for a cool two mil?”
“Looks real,” Simon said, stretching before glancing at the girl he’d more than likely bopped on Mary Paige’s grandmother’s vintage table. “Is it real?”
Mary Paige glared at him. “Of course not. Why would I have a check for that much lying around for you to find? It was a joke gift from my uncle’s party.”
The doorbell dinged like the bell in a boxing match.
Sweet relief.
“I’ll get it,” Cookie Dreadlocks chirped as she skipped to the door.
“This isn’t your—” The door swung open to reveal Brennan Henry standing on Mary Paige’s stoop.
“Looky,” Cookie Dreadlocks said, glancing over her shoulder at Mary Paige. “You got a nice supply of dudes. And this one looks like he could buy me a decent meal unlike the other one.”
Brennan slid off his sunglasses and glanced at the brass numbers affixed to the weathered exterior boards.
“Hey, I know who that is.” Simon pointed toward Brennan. “Saw him at a show once.”
Mary Paige had no clue what to do. Because, of course, Brennan Henry would show up on her stoop in the middle of her kicking Sir Simon the Leech and his consort from her life. So, she stood there for a few seconds trying to figure out the situation.
Why now? Why here? Why her?
No answers.
Cookie Dreadlocks stretched her neck to peer out to something in the yard. “Is that your ride?”
Brennan turned and looked at whatever the cookie artist was looking at. “Yeah.”
“Goddamn, that’s a good-lookin’ car.” Simon checked out the ride through the slotted blinds.
Mary Paige finally snapped out of it when she saw Simon sliding toward the door with an opportunistic gleam in his green eyes. She pushed skinny Simon against the couch and stepped in front of Cookie Dreadlocks then she squeezed out the door, shutting it behind her.
“Mr. Henry,” she said, glad she hadn’t already changed into her usual end-of-the-day sweats and fluffy socks. “What are you doinghere?”
He stepped back, nearly falling off the postage-stamp-size stoop. “Uh, I had to come this way for an appointment, and thought I’d bring over the contract and schedule Grandfather and Ellen put together. It was delivered right as I was leaving the office and I thought you might want to look at it before you sign since there are some negotiable areas with regard to appearances.”
Mary Paige caught a flutter at the window and knew Simon was spying on them. She almost shushed Brennan. “Oh, okay.”
Brennan turned as the curtain was drawn back. “Who’s that?”
“Who’s who?”
