by Kaye Chazan
Hambrick's eyes narrowed. There was something dangerous and angry in the set of his jaw, and Toby couldn't help, if only for a second, imagining him in a gangster's suit and hat. He remembered the way he'd scammed his way into the speakeasy and smirked. How the hell had he ever actually been afraid of this man?
"You son of a bitch."
"I said get out. And if you can't play nice, don't come back."
Toby watched as Hambrick, fuming, stormed out. He gave the movers a friendly wave. The two of them looked at each other, stunned, then waved back before turning to attend to their boss.
Whistling, Toby stepped outside into the alley to check the mail. He thought, as he turned back toward the door, that he caught a glimpse of a cat's tail vanishing around the corner.
He leafed through the mail as he walked back to his office. "Bills, bills, junk," he muttered under his breath as he only half-listened to Hambrick's little circus in the parking lot. With his foot, he pushed the gallery office door open. He was about to drop the mail on his desk when he noticed a glittery pink handbill near the bottom of the stack.
"Brandy's Totally Mad All-Blue Drag Revue," he read aloud. He glanced at the calendar to check the date. He knew the bar. He was free.
Outside, in the parking lot, there was a loud thump, followed by a crash. Hambrick's shouting went nuclear.
With a sigh, Toby crumpled the handbill and tossed it in the bin. "Sorry, gorgeous," he said and put the rest of the mail on his desk. "I've got more than enough madness on my plate for now."
Toby yanked the door open. If anyone was going to be shouting at people in his gallery—including the parking lot—it was damn well going to be him from here on out.
The End