Quadruple Duty

“Dawn,” I interjected simply. “Shut up.”

The other end of the phone was a wasteland of stunned silen

ce. I let it stretch on for a while before continuing.

“I don’t know what you want, Dawn. Or what you’re driving at. But I no longer want to hear from you anymore.”

As always, she completely ignored me. “You took everything!” she shouted. “EVERYTHING!”

“Everything?” I smirked, remembering the table.

“My storage units are empty!” she cried. “Tell me it wasn’t you! Tell me it wasn’t you and your boyfriends and—”

I let her ramble on for a bit. The way she said the word boyfriends practically dripped with disdain. It was amusing though, in its own way. Especially now that I knew why she hated them all so much.

“So it’s all gone?” I asked innocently. “You’re saying you walked into your place and everything had just been… taken?”

“YES!”

“Hmmm,” I said, casually sipping my coffee. “That sounds vaguely familiar.”

I hung up, with probably the biggest grin of my life. Putting my feet up on my desk, I inhaled a deep, contented breath. Then I took another sip of my coffee.

The phone rang and rang and rang. Each ring made me smile. Eventually I put it on silent. I let it go to voicemail, until even that was full, then deleted all the messages without listening to them.

“Fuck you Dawn,” I said, watching the clouds go by.

Fifty-Six

SAMMARA

Knock. Knock.

It was almost midnight, but I was still awake. I was laying on my bed, working on my computer. Mocking up a few different layouts for what could be a mini-showroom.

“Come on in love.”

I hadn’t expected a second visit. Jason had been in earlier, and after shoving my computer to the side he’d been a very pleasant half-hour distraction. We slept together usually, his bed or mine. But tonight I wanted to stay up. Get stuff done.

“What’s the matter,” I called over my shoulder. “Couldn’t slee—”

I turned halfway, and there was Ryan. He was still in the doorway. Still wearing his jacket.

“Oh,” I said, trying not to be awkward. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He stood there a few seconds too long. Just long enough to make it uncomfortable. “Come in,” I urged, “come in.”

He did, and I dropped the pen I’d been tapping against my lips for inspiration. Damn, it really was good to see him.

“When’d you get back?”

“Just now,” he said.

I went to sit up. Instead, he sat down beside me. The bed sank a bit as he brought himself down to my level, until the two of us were face to face.

“Sammara, listen. I wanted to say I was sorry.”