“Yeah, and she’d better get her ultimate butt in the chair.”
Eve turned, and the eyes that had been flat and cool showed hints of fear. “This is just, you know, practice. And it’s all temporary. You don’t do anything permanent to me.”
“Right. Strip off the shirt. You need bigger tits.”
“Oh God.”
While Eve was getting a temporary breast enhancement, Peabody was winding down with a bowl of frozen nondairy dessert some marketing whiz had named Iced Delight. Drenched in chocolate-substitute syrup, it wasn’t half bad. Or so Peabody decided as she scraped the bottom of the bowl.
She washed the bowl so that it wouldn’t be sitting there in the morning to remind her she had absolutely no willpower. When she heard the knock on her door she was about to turn off the entertainment screen and head to bed.
If it was one of her neighbors again, with a complaint about noise from another apartment, she was telling them to call a cop. She was off duty, damn it, and needed the six hours’ sleep she had coming.
A peek in the security screen made her gasp in surprise. She unlocked the door, pulled it open, and stared at McNab. His lip was swollen, his right eye boasted an impressive shiner. And he was wet.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“I had an incident,” he snapped. “I want to come in.”
“I tried to reach you. You’ve got your ’links on message only.”
“I was busy. I was off duty. Goddamn it.”
“Okay, okay.” She stepped back before he could plow into her. “We’re on at oh six hundred. We caught a break earlier tonight. We’ve got an op going tomorrow. Dallas—”
“I don’t want to hear about it now, okay? I can hear about the damn op tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself.” A bit miffed, she shut the door. “Your boots are squeaking.”
“What, I don’t have ears? I can’t hear them squeaking?”
“What crawled up your ass and nested?” She sniffed the air. “You reek. What’ve you been drinking?”
“Whatever I want. Would you get off my back?”
“Look, you’re the one who came to my door bunged up, wet, and smelling like the floor of a bar. I was on my way to bed. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Fine, go to bed. I don’t know why I came here anyway.” He stalked to the door, pulled it open. Slammed it shut again. “I went by Monroe’s. We got into it.”
“What do you mean you . . .” she stammered. “You had a fight with Charles? Are you crazy?”
“Maybe you don’t think we’ve got anything going on, but you’re wrong. That’s it, you’re wrong. And I see him pushing Dr. Blonde in your face, it pisses me off. Best thing could happen to you, in my opinion, but I didn’t like the way he tossed you over.”
“Tossed me over,” she repeated, dumbfounded.
“You break up with somebody, you do it square. He’s going to apologize.”
“He’s going to apologize?”
“What are you, an echo?”
She had to sit. “Charles blackened your eye and split your lip?”
“He got in a couple of shots.” Not to mention the gut punch that had him heaving up the homemade brew in the gutter like a common brew head. “His face isn’t so perfect tonight either.”
“Why are you all wet?”
“Dishy Dimatto was with him. She dumped a bucket of water on us.” He shoved his hands in his damp pockets and stomped around the room on his squeaky boots. “I’d’ve taken him if she hadn’t broken it up. He shouldn’t have treated you that way.”