Authors: Amy Johnson
She trained her flashlight on the top of his desk. Everywhere she looked there were sports logos or team schedules. She shined the light on his desk calendar.
Then she took another swig of whiskey. September 16th, Tiffany’s birthday. It was written in Ted’s lazy scrawl in black ink. She searched the calendar for the January page. January 9th was blank. Her birthday and she didn’t even rate it being sloppily recorded on his calendar. She’d given him ten years and three pets and she got a blank square.
Feeling the whiskey take hold, she grabbed a pen from his drawer and wrote ‘Megan’s birthday, you asshole!’ in the appropriate spot, then slammed the pen back in his drawer.
“Hey guys, I got plane tickets over here,” Josie hollered from Tiffany’s desk.
“The drawer was locked but I jimmied it.” She shoved a small flat piece of metal in her bra. Mickey looked at her in amazement.
“What else you got in there?” He pointed to her chest.
“Oh you know, a little of this, little of that.” She adjusted her boobs and then turned to Megan who was squinting over the light from the flashlight. “Well, what do they say?”
“The tickets are to Las Vegas leaving on September 15th, returning September 19th. There’s one for Ted and the other has Tiffany’s name on it.” Megan sank down
o
n
the
floor
,
leaning her back against Tiffany’s desk. September 16th was that little bitch’s birthday and Ted was taking her to Vegas. Last year for her birthday he’d taken her to the car wash. Mr. freaking romantic! She’d been all dreamy eyed at his muscular frame working the suds into her car. Now she wanted to work her foot in his crotch. My
,
how things change.
“Mickey, give me my whiskey and Josie go over there and jimmy the lock on Ted’s desk.” Mickey handed her the bottle reluctantly and Josie fished the metal tool out of her cleavage. Megan took a long swig of the whiskey then rested her head on her knees. She caught a small glare of metal from under Ted’s desk and shined her light there.
“There’s a man under Ted’s desk,” she said flatly. Then hysterically she shouted. “There’s a man under Ted’s desk.” Mickey leaned over and looked, his lazy expression never changing, as if men hiding under desks after hours in office buildings was business as usual.
“Sure is,” he said.
“A man?” Josie swung her head around. “Is he hot? Is he wearing a wedding band?”
The strange man crawled out from under the desk and put his hands out palms facing Megan.
“It’s not what you think. I’m not a burglar. I’m a pri…” Mickey smacked him on the side of the head with the yellow pages and stood towering over him demanding he identify himself. The man look stunned and Megan wondered if it was the perfect view he had of Mickey’s G-string or the blow from the yellow pages. Josie rushed to the man’s side and flooded him with light from her flashlight.
“He is hot! Well
,
except for that lump he’s gonna have.” She glared at Mickey. “Why’d you go and do that. Now his face is gonna be all purple and swollen. I find a perfectly good man and you thump him with a phone book.”
“Josie, he’s not a good man! He’s a burglar. He broke in here, probably to steal stuff to sell to buy crack or something.” The man stood to his full height and faced the gang. Megan took a step back, her eyes wide. “Hit him again Mickey before he shoots us or ties us up and rapes us,” Megan said.
“Wait just a minute.” Josie turned to the man. “Do you have a gun?” he shook his head no. “Are you going to rape us?” He shook his head no. “See, it’s OK. He’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“And you believe him? What are you
,
nuts? He’s probably an ex-convict,” Megan said. But she didn’t believe it. He didn’t look like a lowlife or a drug addict. He looked, delicious! Or maybe it was the poor lighting. Or the fact that her hormones had been on red alert lately. Probably it was just the whiskey. Like the old saying goes, the more you drink the prettier they get.
“Want me to hit him again?” Mickey asked, now holding his mag-lite flashlight as a weapon. “This sucker’ll crack his skull.”
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Megan asked, suddenly having to fight off a case of the drunken hiccups. How could she use a stern, scary voice with this man when she had involuntary squeaks coming up her throat? She looked up to God and asked for a tornado to come and level the building. But with her damn luck she’d probably land on Josie’s boobs
,
which would cushion the blow and save her life. Life was so unfair!
“My name is Jackson Westin and I’m a Private Detective.” That was all he offered which wasn’t enough for Megan. Josie seemed enthralled.
“A private detective. How sexy is that?” He smiled and gave a small shrug. “Oh man, your sex at first
sight
rating just went way up. So do you have a detective kit? Can I…”
“Ignore her, she’s an idiot.”
“Hey!” Josie snapped. Megan waved her off and raised her voice to override her.
“You say you’re a PI. Who do you work for?”
“Myself.”
“Who hired you?”
“That’s confidential.”
“How’d you get in here?”
“Same as you.” He leaned against the door jam, folded his arms across his chest
,
and stared at her through amused eyes. She wanted to hit him with the whiskey bottle just to knock his attitude down a notch. Of course that I-don’t-give-a-damn-little-lady attitude made him even sexier. God she needed a drink. Or a real orgasm. With an actual man this time. Preferably one she hadn’t puked on.
“I used a key,” She pointed out.
“So did I.” He produced a small silver key and handed it to her. She looked at it and wondered how in the hell he’d gotten it. She had to steal hers from Ted
.
S
o what’d he do? Rub a magic lamp and make a wish?
“But I have a right to be here. I own this studio.”
“Then why are you and your sidekicks, using flash lights. If you’re supposed to be here, why don’t you turn on the lights?”
“We’re environmentalists. We’re conserving energy by saving electricity.”
“And the gloves?” Megan looked at Josie’s hands and thanked God she wasn’t wearing love gloves again. That would have been a bitch to try to explain.
“She has this scaly skin rash. Herpes of some kind
,
I believe. It’s really gross and very contagious. We probably have it to
o,
by now
,
so if I were you I wouldn’t touch any of us.” He took a step toward her, trying to intimidate her she guessed. And damn it was working.
“And I’m the one asking the questions here
,
Bud. So don’t try pulling any fancy P.I. tricks or I’ll have Mickey clock you again.”
Megan turned around looking for Mickey to back her up but he was
nowhere
to be found. She yelled for him and he answered back, “In the can. Hey does Ted keep any Gold Bond here? The twins are getting a major rash
,
babe. Sequined thongs and sensitive skin don’t do too good together. No breathing room
,
babe.” Great
,
the only man in the room who could beat this guy up and save her and Josie was in the bathroom suffering from jock itch caused by his panties. Megan was suddenly speechless so she grabbed the bottle and hit it again.
“Here’s what I think,” Jack began
.
“I think you’re full of shit. If you owned this place you’d of already called the cops and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Megan glared at him debating whether she should down the rest of the bottle and hope for alcohol poisoning or hit him over the head with it for being such an arrogant asshole, with a killer body and orgasmic voice.
“Know what else I think?” he asked.
“Enlighten me.”
“I think you need to switch careers. You suck as burglars.”
“We do not!” Josie snapped. “We even have code names. I’m Lolita!”
“Maybe Lucy is more fitting. And she can be Ethel. And then there’s Ru Paul in the bathroom.” His smile widened. “Hell
,
it was like watching an episode of
“
I Love Lucy
”
without the commercials. I especially liked the almost catfight. That could’ve earned you serious burglar in training points.”
“You’re an asshole,” Megan said
,
thinking about how dangerous he looked.
“So what’s your point?” Jack said
,
and Megan smiled that crooked smile and Jack fell in love again.
“My point is
,
you haven’t told us squat. You haven’t shown us any ID that proves you’re a private detective
,
we don’t know who hired you or what you’re looking for. You somehow managed to get a key to this office and broke in. Then when we catch you, you try to give us burglary tips.” She paused and slammed back some courage from the bottle. “And if you don’t start giving me some straight answers I’m gonna call the cops and have you arrested.” Take that detective boy.
He looked her straight in the eye and took another step toward her. She tried to back up but hit the wall. She put her hand behind her back as if she could move the wall. Of course that didn’t work so she froze. He came even closer. Megan swallowed hard and stuck her chin up to reach his glare. Pretty eyes
,
she thought, for an asshole.
“Well Ethel,” he said getting dangerously close now. “The pop quiz is over. I’m not answering anymore questions. Not until you do, that is.” From where he was standing he could smell her hair. It smelled like…
t
omato sauce? Then he saw what appeared to be a piece of pasta in her hair and he raised his hand and slowly plucked it out. She went very still until he placed the particle in her hand
.
T
hen she gave a shy smile and said, “Lasagna”. He grinned and she stared back at him with those blue eyes you could just fall into and he knew he should have never touched her. He put his bad guy burglar scowl back on and said, “Well?”
“Call the cops Josie,” Megan said defiantly.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jack told Josie who was already cradling the phone to her ear.
“Do it Josie!”
“Not wise,” Jack said
,
his eyes never leaving Megan’s.
“Why not? It sounds wise to me,” Megan countered.
“Well
,
it is her ass. Do what you want Josie.”
“Wait, what did you say about my ass? Please don’t say it’s big because
,
if you do, I gotta tell you even though you’re hot I will not hesitate to turn this into a slugfest.” She cradled the phone receiver and moved to his side poking her finger into his arm. “You see? This is not a good week for my butt. I have PMS which means that time will be here any day, And when it’s that time, I retain a lot of water and I get bloated which makes my….”
“Josie! Shut up! Too
m
uch
i
nfo
,
babe
,
” Mickey said now
,
smelling of medicated Gold Bond and looking a lot more relaxed. Then to Jack he said, “She’s a little slow
.
Y
ou have to break it down for her.” Josie was turning around in a circle checking out her butt and Megan took another swig on the bottle. Now God?
“Okay Lucy, here’s the deal,” Jack started finally removing his eyes from Megan. “You disarmed the alarm when you came in here tonight. You don’t own this studio. That’s B&E
,
babe. Five to ten easy.”
“Don’t listen, Josie,” Megan called. “He’s just trying to scare you
.
Y
ou were with me and I have every right to be here.” I think, she added silently. I mean it’s
okay
to help your friend break into her husband’s studio so that she can go through his things and gather evidence to make sure said husband is cheating so that said wife can divorce him and take half of said studio right? “My head hurts
,
”
s
he muttered.
“Actually you don’t, this studio was recently sold to Anthony Malone. So unless you are Mrs. Anthony Malone, you are breaking and entering.”
Megan stood there dumbfounded. What he was saying couldn’t be right. Why would Ted sell his studio to his brother? Realization almost hit her before she thought of something else.
“And how do you know I’m not Mrs. Anthony Malone? Huh
,
big Privates guy!” She hiccupped and then realized what she’d said but before she could recover it he was smiling that smile again. Sexy as hell.
So this is the guy Mom warned me about
, she thought. In the background Mickey and Josie winced, smelling disaster.
“I appreciate the compliment, I think. But to answer your question
,
Anthony Malone isn’t married.”