Dropping down, I chanced a breath in before I passed out and picked up the powder. From the description on the front of it, it deodorized the room as you went to the bathroom.
“Oh, that won’t work. You have to tip some onto the water before you poop, and it stops the room from…” she trailed off as I turned my head to look up at her, realizing what she’d just given away.
Before I could say anything, though, Clyde, the little fucker, ran into the room and squatted in the shower again.
Why must everything shit around me? And what the fuck died in his ass?
Unfortunately, my reaction to what he did then was exactly like when Sheena did it. The difference was that this time I had a toilet right beside me to hang my head over, and I got to welcome back the meal I’d just eaten.
There’s a saying about the bond between a man and his dog, but I don’t think they meant the man puking in a toilet with the dog shitting in the shower beside him. I figured that burning the room to the ground and starting all over was the safest route to take with what came out of him. There was no coming back from this.
At least, that’s what I thought. Apparently, Tamsin had a crime scene clean-up side because she came back in armed with two huge bottles of bleach hanging from her good arm. By the time we were done, she’d used both of them, a whole roll of paper towel, a bottle of antibacterial spray, and I’d been sick three times.
It put a dampener on what I’d intended to do to her when we got to bed, but it didn’t mean that first thing the next morning I didn’t wake up and do what I’d been planning to do to her and more.
Yes I went into work whistling, and I continued to do it until DB called me into his office and shit on my day.
We were going to have to break some hard news to Tamsin, and I just hoped she had enough trust in me to keep her safe.
Chapter Twelve
Tamsin (or Zuri. It depends on the day and the outfit at this point)
Two weeks later…
Something Garrett was working on had him at home more often, and sometimes it was awesome, sometimes not so much.
In my downtime, I’d developed bad habits. Well, not exactly bad habits, per se, but I’d made the mistake of turning on the television and watching stuff that had me doing searches online like a junkie looking for a fix. I was a fact-checking guru.
Netflix was mainly to blame. I’d watched most of the real-life crime shows on there, and because of some of the stuff that’d come up in them, my search history started off sketchy as fuck. Then I moved onto documentaries and shows based on real-life stuff, so my search history would probably be setting off alarms in most countries.
Then I went down the rabbit hole that was the television show called Whale Wars about the conservation group, the Sea Shepherds. When I’d discovered that you could buy merchandise from their online shops, I ordered hoodies and t-shirts for Garrett and me so we could give them our support and backing. I’d also investigated whaling and information on the number of whales left in the world, which had led to a few days of little to no sleep.
This was where my previous searches came in not so handy. You see, I went on a planning blitz of things that could be used to stop the whalers when I finally went out to save the whales. I got so into it that Garrett came home to see me trying to make a rotten butter bomb with one hand and had put a stop to it by grounding me from watching it anymore.
After that, I resorted to just discovering weird shit, which was why when Garrett kissed me the other night, I’d blurted out the ‘fun fact’ that the skin on your lips was the same as the one around your butt hole. Crazy but true!
At this stage, if Gjorka didn’t catch up with me, unfortunately the authorities from several countries just might. Or maybe whaling groups and countries that were pro-whaling. Maybe even Sphincters Anonymous, people who didn’t want those facts getting out there.
I also had a new selection of makeup. I’d gone from wearing what I needed to get by every day to wanting to be able to never wear the same thing twice in three months. I could now do dramatic winged eyeliner, contour like a pro, I’d almost blinded myself with fake lashes, and I could blend eyeshadows until they called me Princess Glitzy Titz as I took the pole.
Boredom… it wasn’t a great look on me.