“Not it,” Brent said quickly from beside me.
“Not it?” I questioned him as we stepped farther into the house.
“Yeah, I’m not it when it comes to going to the bedroom and making sure they’re awake.”
I glanced at my watch. It was ten in the morning. Surely Mrs. Lewis was up by now. Old people generally were up and going at four in the morning, right?
As we walked through the living room, I realized what the humming noise I’d heard upon entering the house was—the vacuum cleaner.
“She’s vacuuming,” I said, relief trickling through me. There was nothing worse than walking into a stranger’s house and them not knowing you were there.
One time Brent and I had nearly been shot. No joke. It was an old man whose battery for his hearing aid was dead. He hadn’t heard us knocking away at the front door. When we walked inside, he was making a sandwich in the kitchen, and he pulled the gun he had holstered on his hip.
“Since she’s just vacuuming, I’ll go first.” Brent smoothed his hair down and licked his lips. Even though he’d just guessed Margie’s age to be in the fifties, he didn’t care. Brent was a woman lover with no standards or age preference. In fact, sometimes I swore to God he gave them his number for side work and all that entailed was him coming back at an hour when their husbands weren’t home for a fuck.
Pausing, I motioned for him to take the lead, then. I prayed this lady looked like his grandma so he’d dial down the charming douche and behave. If Dad knew the way Brent’s mind worked and about my “side work” theory, he’d fire him on the spot, regardless if he’d been my best friend since middle school.
Brent strutted into the dining room area, where the black vacuum cord led. I followed.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he yelled as politely as he could over the hum. The last part of his ma’am died in a strangled sounding death, and I didn’t understand why until I rounded the corner and saw Margie Lewis.
She was short all right, with fluffy red hair the same old lady shade I’d thought it would be, but she wasn’t dressed in the outfit Brent or I had guessed. In fact, she was hardly dressed at all. Margie Lewis stood in the dining room, vacuuming in her plain white granny panties, a thin, see-through tank top, and nothing else.
Vomit rose up the back of my throat, and I wasn’t sure if I should attempt to back away and hide so she wouldn’t know I’d seen her like this or if I should get her attention. Ducking back behind the wall won out for me, but I’d decided this a split second too late. Margie turned and spotted the two of us standing there.
“Oh my word, you two scared the dickens right out of me,” she said. She flung one hand up to cover her heart and pressed the button on the vacuum with the tips of her toes to turn it off. “You’re a little early, aren’t you? I was trying to get some cleaning done, but with you two coming in and out of the house all day that was probably not the smartest thing to be doing now, was it?”
“Umm,” Brent muttered. Obviously, he was as shocked by her ease at being caught cleaning in her underwear as I was. “Yeah.”
Margie walked right past us and into the kitchen. “Can I get you boys something to drink? Coffee? Tea? I can make you some oatmeal?”
I glanced at Brent, wondering if this lady was for real. He mouthed the words “What the fuck” to me, and I knew I wasn’t locked in some crazy-ass nightmare. This shit was really happening.
I cleared my throat. “Umm, no. I think we’re good. Thank you, though.”
My eyes dropped to the clipboard as I walked into the kitchen with her, Brent following behind me. Did this lady even know she was walking around in her underwear while we were here? Then it happened. My eyes dropped to her chest for whatever fucking reason, and I noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra either.
“We were told there was a light in a hallway not working and a few receptacles you wanted added in the study. Could you point me in the direction of that light first, please?” I asked, while busying myself with the papers on my clipboard.
“Yes. It’s back here.” She walked past me, and I fought to keep my eyes on the back of her head, but it was like driving past a car accident. You have to look. When I finally did look down, the dimples in her thighs made me glad I hadn’t taken her up on any offer for drinks. That shit would have been right back up in a second.
“Holy hell, I think I’m gonna be sick,” Brent whispered to me. “Does she even know? Say somethin’ about it!”
“I am not saying anything to her,” I gritted out.
Brent’s fist came to his mouth and he bit his knuckles. “I can’t work under these conditions, man. No fuckin’ way.”
Mrs. Lewis paused at the frosted globe light in the center of her hallway. “It’s this one. One minute it worked, and then the next it didn’t. My husband already tried to replace the lightbulb, but that didn’t seem to be the issue. So I figured I’d add that to the list you boys are here for.” She shrugged.
Footsteps on the stairs caught my attention. I prayed it would be Mrs. Lewis’s husband and he’d let her in on the little secret that she wasn’t actually dressed. My prayer, however, was not answered. I closed my eyes the moment Mr. Lewis came into view, because he too was not properly dressed. In fact, all he wore was a pair of tighty whities.
What the hell was wrong with these people?
“This is a bad dream, man. A freaking nightmare,” Brent whispered at me.
I glared at him, hoping he’d take a hint and keep his mouth shut. We just needed to bust this house out. That’s all. Then we’d be out of here and maybe the next one wouldn’t be so Twilight Zone crazy.
“Oh, you must be with Mason’s Electric. Punctual. I like that.” Mr. Lewis smiled.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” I nodded.
Mr. Lewis stepped off the final step and crowded the narrow hallway with his underdressed presence to a whole new kind of awkward. Brent was practically plastered against the wall, and I could hardly breathe.
“Yeah, I don’t know what happened with this light. Darn thing went out and won’t come back on.” Mr. Lewis placed his bony old man hands on his hips and glanced up at the light. When his eyes dropped back down, they met mine. “But that’s what you guys are here for.”
“That’s right.” I couldn’t move. I was being smothered by the scent of Dial hand soap and old cigars.
Mr. Lewis glanced at Brent. He must have noticed the unease on his face, because his next words shocked me. “Oh, by the way, we’re nudists. This was our summer home, but we’ve decided to move to the colony and sell this place. For your comfort, we’ve put on more clothes then we’ve worn in a year. I hope you don’t mind.” He laughed.
I blinked. What the hell do you say to that? “No, no. It’s fine.”
Brent swallowed hard. “Yeah, perfectly fine.”
“We’re going to head to the van and get the tools we need. Then we’ll have this light working for you again in no time.” I forced a smile and started down the hallway toward the front door.
“I’m so not fine with that!” Brent insisted once we’d made it to the van. “Oh my God, I can’t even believe that shit. Why don’t they have enough decency to cover the hell up?”
I grabbed my drill and a few other things I knew I’d most likely need. “They did. Apparently.”
“Gross. Seriously sick, man.” Brent shivered. “I already have the image of her cottage cheese thighs and his saggy nuts embedded in my mind. I don’t need anything more.”
“So who won the bet?” I asked jokingly, but also because I needed a subject change.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He grabbed out some needle-nose pliers and shoved them into his front pocket. “As long as you can bust this house out and get us the fuck out of here as quick as possible, I’ll buy the damn beer.”
“Deal.” I grinned.
Grabbing my tool bag and the box of receptacles we were supposed to add, I headed back inside to the land of naked old people, ready to knock this place o
ut.
CHAPTER THREE
LAUREN
When I pulled into the parking lot of the Westhills shopping strip, I slowed to a creep. Taking my usual spot beside Paige’s Honda Civic, I cut the engine on my Charger and gathered my purse from the passenger seat.
Paige’s Closet was a trendy little shop one of my best friends, Paige Jacobs, had opened a few months ago. After I was fired from my hairdressing job, Paige had been nice enough to hire me. The pay was decent, the atmosphere was incredible, and my boss was cool as shit. It was, frankly, one of the best jobs I’d ever had.
Stepping inside, my eyes darted to the desk where Paige normally was first thing in the morning, booting up the computer we used as our cash register. When I didn’t see her there, I glanced around the shop, peering over and around the racks of clothes made to look exactly as though you were riffling through your best friend’s closet while shopping. A noise from the storage room caught my attention.
“Crap,” Paige grumbled just before I heard another loud thud hit the floor. “Damn it!”
After making my way to the storage room door, I leaned against the frame and stared at her. “What the heck are you doing?”
In a pair of stiletto heels and a short sundress, Paige stood on a pile of clothes that had exploded from two tubs at her feet. They must have exploded upon contact with the carpeted floor while she was struggling to get another one down from the top shelf.
“Oh, hey.” She tugged on the plastic tub she was attempting to free. An oversized Ziploc vacuum bag slipped off from on top of it, and it nailed her in the forehead. “Oh my freaking God! All I want is this damn tub down. Do you have the stepstool I loaned you in your car?”
I sank my teeth into my bottom lip. I’d borrowed the stool over a week ago to use while rearranging pictures on my apartment walls. Sometimes I enjoyed downing an entire bottle of my favorite wine, cranking up my iPod, and rearranging my living room. It was something I found to be therapeutic. Plus, it helped keep me grounded by reminding me change was okay.
“Nope. It’s still at home, sitting in the corner of my living room. Sorry.”
Paige walked past me. “It’s all right. I’ll just use the chair, then.”
The desire to ask her why she hadn’t thought of that before danced on the tip of my tongue. As I followed her, I decided to let her in on my big news. “So, I have some news.”
“Oh yeah? Good or bad?”
“Good.” I smiled. “Jimmy sent me a few texts this morning.”
Paige knew Jimmy and I were not your typical couple, and just like all of my other friends, she was fine with it. Somewhat.
“And?” She arched an eyebrow. Gripping the chair behind the desk, she started across the shop with it.
“He’s taking me on a trip for my birthday,” I gushed. “I’m going to Greece with him for four days!”
Her brown eyes widened and she stopped mid-step. “No way!”
I nodded. “We leave the day before my birthday and come back the following Monday.”
“Are you going to meet his family? Is that what the trip is for?”
“I’m sure I’ll meet his family, but I don’t think that’s what the trip is entirely for.” I walked into the little storage room, picked up the Ziploc bag of scarves, and pushed the two tubs that had fallen off to the side, so she could get the chair in. “He didn’t mention anything about meeting his family, but we all know how homesick he seems. I think it’s finally gotten to him. He said his parents bought the tickets, so they must know I’m coming with him.” I waved a hand as though it weren’t that big of a deal. “All I know is I’m ecstatic to go. Do you think I can get the time off, boss?”
Paige chuckled. “Sure, as long as you bring me back some sort of kick-ass souvenir.”
“You know it. I’ll get something for you, Blaire, and Eva.” I grinned.
“About Blaire…you know she’s going to be looking at this from all angles when you tell her. Prepare for twenty questions, because I have no doubt she’ll dissect this, trying to figure out what his intentions really are behind taking you.”
Blaire Hayes was Paige’s roommate and another of our friends. Paige was one hundred percent right when she said Blaire would rip this gesture to shreds, wondering why he’d decided to take me with him.
I frowned and stepped out of the way so she could get the chair inside the cramped storage room. “Yeah, well I plan to tell her to stop before she even starts. This is an experience—a once in a lifetime experience to be exact—and that’s all I’m looking at it as.”
“Good luck with that.” She kicked off her heels and hopped in the chair. Heaving the tub she’d been attempting to get down from the top shelf, she handed it to me.
“What’s in this thing? Lead?” I groaned under its weight.
“Shorts and summer clothes.” She jumped down and began shoving all the clothes that had busted free from the two other tubs back inside them. “It’s getting hotter out, and I know there are some really cute spaghetti-strap dresses and stuff in there I’d like to get on the floor.”
Hotter out. “Oh, that reminds me. You won’t believe what happened in my apartment last night.”
In all the excitement about my upcoming trip to Greece, I’d forgotten to tell her my bedroom was now a tropical rainforest.
“What?” She stepped back onto the chair and motioned for me to hoist the plastic tubs on the floor up to her.
“I woke up in the middle of the night to hot water dripping all over me from the apartment above mine. Freaked me out!”
“What was it from? Did you call your landlord?”
“I don’t know what it was from, but yeah, I did call Mrs. Tapper. She said her grandson would be over sometime this afternoon to check it out. She didn’t seem to believe there was anything wrong. Apparently, my upstairs neighbor hasn’t reported anything yet, so there’s no rush.”
“Have a keychain bottle of pepper spray ready when you head home tonight. He might be sniffing your dirty underwear or something when you walk in.”
“Ew. God, Cameron is really rubbing off on you.” I chuckled.
Cameron Green was Paige’s boyfriend. He was one cocky guy—the type that either you instantly liked or hated because of it. There was no in-between with him. I liked him, though. He was good for Paige. Opposites attract and all that jazz.
“Just saying.” She laughed.
“I know. He is a little creeper, though.” I pulled the tub of summertime clothes out into the main room to loot through them while hanging them up.
That was another awesome thing about working at Paige’s Closet. I got first dibs on clothes. With snagging some cute outfits for my trip in mind, I opened the tub and began to riffle through it.
* * * *
When I got home a little after five, I made sure to have my mini-bottle of pepper spray ready just in case. Not that I’d need it. Timothy wasn’t some gorilla who could manhandle me. He was a skinny, lanky guy with beady eyes and greasy hair. I could take him no problem.
As my apartment door creaked open, I glanced around, searching for any signs of the weirdo, but saw nothing. Tossing my purse on the catchall table near the door, I started toward my bedroom, praying I wouldn’t find him back there whacking off to my dirty laundry. Thankfully, my bedroom was empty too. Reaching to flick on the light switch, my fingers brushed across something over the switch preventing the light from turning on. It was a piece of masking tape with the words “Do Not Use. Dangerous” written in the smallest chicken scratch I’d ever seen.
Stepping farther into the room to see what else he’d marked off with tape and his horrible penmanship, I noticed how sweltering the room was. While the water had stopped dripping, the entire ceiling was now stained with rings of brown and my bed looked soaked through. Great. How the hell do you dry out a mattress? Would I need to replace it now?
After walking back to the living room, I dug my phone out of my purse. Mrs. Tapper was going to explain what
the hell had happened upstairs and how she planned on fixing it, because at this point, my bedroom seemed unusable. I scrolled through my contacts until I found her number and then tapped on it. It rang the standard five times before she picked up.
“Hello?” she snapped into the phone in her smoker voice.
“Mrs. Tapper, this is Lauren Myers in two B. I noticed your grandson stopped by at some point, and I was just wondering what he thought the problem was upstairs?”
“Yeah, it’s the water heater. The girl above you’s busted.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. Instead, there was the telltale sound of her puffing on her cigarette. “So…what do you plan on doing to fix it?”
She made an irritated sound, as though she hated the tone I’d just used, and my blood began to boil. “I’ve already called around today and found a company that will fix it. Her water heater will have to be replaced, and there’s quite a bit of construction work that will need to be done to repair all the damages.”
“Repairs? Like what?” I didn’t want to have someone in and out of my apartment at all hours. I’d be afraid something would get stolen.
“I don’t know the extent of what they’ll need to do yet. I won’t until tomorrow sometime, when they send their main guy out from the insurance company.”
“I have to work tomorrow, but please let me know whenever you hear something.”
“Yep,” was all she said before she hung up on me.
Flopping onto my couch, I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. Fan-freaking-tastic. My bedroom was going to be out of commission for a while.
CHAPTER FOUR
IAN
“Here, you deserve this after the way you busted that place out so quickly,” Brent insisted, handing me the six-pack of Blue Moon he’d just bought. “Seriously, with the way those pervs kept changin’ their minds about shit, I was nervous as hell we’d have to go back there tomorrow to finish.”
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