Stripped Down (Tap That)

The pieces clicked into place. She went up the walk. “So Rick called you, huh? He’s the only one who knew about it, and clearly someone gave him Tom’s address.”

“Guilty. And I regret nothing. I’m guessing your dog is fine since you’re smiling?”

“She is almost here. Rick said they’re about thirty minutes out. She’s fine, she was just thirsty and hungry, and probably bored.”

“Good. That’s great news.” He let her into the house and followed her. “He’s a good kid.”

“Who, Rick?” she asked, amused to think of Rick as a kid. In a mere week her opinion of him had totally changed. Gone was her brother’s annoying friend. Now he could only think of him as a fully grown man.

“Yes, Rick. He must like you to do something like that.”

Shit. Here it was. “Dad. Please stop. He doesn’t like me. We’re just friends-ish.” He felt bad for her, that was all. He liked her body, sure, and her company with no strings-attached. But he didn’t like her, like her.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. I’m off to the bar. Lock up when you leave.”

“Will do.” Sloane ran up the stairs and opened the door to her bedroom. It was like an homage to the mid-2000s. Complete with Mean Girls quotes on the wall and posters of O-Town, her boy band crush at the time.

Everything was exactly the way it had been the day she left for college. The closet was empty of clothes but her dresser wasn’t. It had all her old school spirit T-shirts and some random pajamas and funky socks. Then there it was—not her official cheerleading uniform, because the school had owned that. But the less expensive one they had used for parades and pep rallies and had to pay for themselves. She distinctly recalled her father bitching about the cost of it, making her wash glasses at the bar as her contribution.

She took it downstairs and found a plastic grocery bag where her dad had kept them for the last twenty years. Left hand side of the pantry, stuffed in a brown bag hanging from a plastic hook. Shoving the uniform in, she wondered if there was any possible way she would still fit in the damn thing and left, locking the front door.

Her weight hadn’t really fluctuated much but she definitely had more booty than she had back then. She’d been known on the squad as “Flat Ass.” That, coupled with somewhere in the neighborhood of an extra ten pounds and Rick was in for the legitimate slutty cheerleader experience.

When she got back to the apartment building, she got a text from Rick.

In my apartment.

She ran up the stairs, shoving the plastic bag in her purse so River didn’t get too curious about it. Impatient to see Kate, She knocked on the door to Rick’s apartment. When it opened, Kate came flying out at her. “Oh, my goodness, hi, baby.” Instantly she started crying. Kate looked thin and her coat was dull. “Hi, hi.”

Going down on her haunches, she laughed when Kate jumped on her and knocked her back on her ass. “That’s my girl.” Hugging Kate to her she looked up at Rick. “You’re amazing.”

“No big deal. Glad to help.” He actually looked sheepish.

Sloane closed her eyes and just held Kate, overwhelmed. She felt so horrible for having let Kate down. “Has she eaten?”

“Yes, I got some dog food on the way home.”

“I’m going to take her downstairs and give her a luxury spa experience. She smells like dirt.” She kissed Kate’s head and stood up. River was hovering the doorway. “River, do you want to help me?”

“I would but my dad is coming to pick me up. We’re going to dinner and a movie.”

“Oh, okay, that sounds fun.” She smiled at her. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. That meant she and Rick had a few hours. Alone.

“I’ll help you,” Rick said.

“Perfect.”

They heard a knocking on the door downstairs to the apartments. River ran into the apartment and hit the buzzer to unlock it. “Dad’s here,” she said.

Sloane was curious to see Rick’s father. She didn’t remember ever really meeting him as a kid. Rick had said he was a hoarder which meant he clearly had a clinical disorder or some sort of mental health issues. But like she imagined a lot of hoarders were, nothing about his appearance gave away his living conditions. He was cheerful, smiling as he came up the steps. He was a slightly shorter, thinner version of Rick. Older than her own father, he was attractive. Clean, tidy clothes and a clean shave.

“Hi, son, how’s it going?”

“Good, Dad. How are you?”

“Can’t complain, can’t complain.” He stuck his hand out to Sloane. “Hello, young lady, I’m Ralph.”

“Nice to see you.” She shook his hand. “I’m Sloane O’Toole, Sullivan’s sister.”