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TWO
I SHOULD TURN YOU OVER MY KNEE
Twenty minutes later, I found myself standing in the living room of Lee’s condo.
I’d been there before, only a few times, but my visits had been brief. Mainly dropping something off or picking something up, and always I was with Kitty Sue or Ally.
And always, Lee was there.
Now, Lee was not.
“This isnota good idea,” I said to Ally.
Ally and I were the same height, both at five foot nine. Ally weighed twenty pounds less than me, was a jean’s size smaller because she had much less ass, and one cup size smaller because she had much less boobage. She had whisky-brown eyes like Hank, and thick, dark-brown hair like all the Nightingales—hair that she kept rock ’n’ roll crazy long, just like me.
Right now she was wearing a denim miniskirt with a ragged, cutoff hem, a bright yellow tank top with “Sugar” written across the chest in glitter and flip-flops.
We’re both thirty years old, with Ally two weeks younger than me. We’d be eighty and wearing denim miniskirts and I’m-with-the-band T-shirts. I foresaw this for our future, and even though I thought it was cool, it also kinda scared me.
Ally was talking. “Lee’s out of town. He’s not due back for ages. Definitely not tonight. And anyway, no one’s crazy enough to break into Lee’s condo.”
I considered her words as I looked at Rosie.
Rosie was having a “talented artist in a crisis” moment. His eyes were wild and he looked about to bolt.
Rosie wasn’t my favorite person at that particular time. Rosie nearly got me shot, but it wasn’t entirely his fault.Hedidn’t shoot at me andhedidn’t mouth off to the bad guys.
I’d always had trouble with my mouth.
Anyway, he was my friend and I had to keep him safe. That’s what friends do. They don’t drink so they can drive you home when you’re drunk. They like your boyfriends when you’re with them and then trash them after you’ve broken up. And they find you a safe house when people are shooting at you.
And Ally was right, only someone with a death wish would break into Lee’s condo. Even I was having heart palpitations at daring to enter Lee’s lair, worried he’d go all commando if he found us there.
Not only that, it was a secure building and Lee lived on the fourteenth floor (with an unobstructed view of the Front Range, by the way).
Ally looked between Rosie and me. “What’s this about?”
“Don’t tell her!” Rosie shouted.
“I’m not gonna tell her!” I shouted back, beginning to lose patience with Rosie. I forgave myself for losing patience. I figured that happened when you got shot at. I’d never been shot at, but I was always a quick learner.
Ally lifted her brows at me and I gave her my “later” look.
“I need caffeine,” Rosie whined and walked to Lee’s couch. It was soft, rich leather and faced an enormous LCD TV. Rosie threw himself on it and rubbed his temples with his fingers, trying to find his Zen nirvana without a stainless steel pitcher filled with frothing milk in his hand.
“You don’t need caffeine, you need Valium,” I said.
“I’ve got Valium,” Ally put in.
Ally could generally find all different kinds of pharmaceuticals, either in her personal medicine cabinet or through her network of contacts.
“I don’t want Valium. I want to get the bag back from Duke as soon as possible and go to San Salvador,” Rosie said, grabbing the remote and being a bit dramatic.
“He’s an artist with an artistic temperament,” I explained as I walked Ally to the door.
“He makes coffee,” Ally replied.
I ignored that. Ally didn’t understand the beauty of coffee. She preferred tequila.
