Page 58 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
Rick gave me a panicked look.
I stared back at him stonily.
“I’m so sorry,” he said with his hands up. “I thought she could catch.”
All I could think was that men really sucked. Bailey wailed her agreement.
* * * *
I slammed a jar of tomato sauce down, then rethought the object of my aggression when the shelf rattled ominously. From the living room Bailey banged her block down on the floor in solidarity.
The snick of the back door let me know Shelly had responded to my summons. I’d left a brief voice mail for her on the drive back from the grocery store. “We need to talk,” was all I’d said.
She paused to kiss Bailey on the forehead and then entered the kitchen with a rush of crisp winter air.
I pounced on her. “Who’s the guy, Shelly?”
“Okay.” She didn’t play dumb. “It’s Philip. Don’t be angry.”
“Don’t be angry? This guy is like…I don’t know! Something bad.”
“He’s not so bad.”
How dare she side with him? “I saw what he did to you.”
“He didn’t do anything I didn’t agree to,” she countered.
Damn. A low blow.
“I’m sorry.” She stepped toward me. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, you’re right,” I managed to get out.
“No, I wasn’t.” She reached out her hands for mine. “I’m really sorry. At first I didn’t know, and then by the time you told me, there was the thing with the cops, and I knew you’d be upset about it, so…”
I sighed. “Avoidance.”
“Learned from the best,” she said with a small smile.
That pulled a smile from me. I kept my voice down. “Bitch.”
“You love me anyway.”
My eyes prickled. “Is this the part where we hug?”
“Let’s not,” she said.
And I was fine again. I picked up a can of soup from the bag. “I can’t believe you’re seeing that asshole.”
She just gave me a wry look—I see who pays me—and crossed to the coffee machine.
Fair enough, but there were limits. Or there should be. “Have you seen his study?”
She started the brew, then turned around and leaned against the counter. “The bullfighter,” she said. We both laughed.
But maybe it didn’t have to be like this. I wasn’t sure how much, but Colin had money. And I knew Shelly had some saved. “Maybe Colin could…”
“No,” she said. “You know how I feel about it.” I did. Honest pay for honest work. Besides, I wasn’t totally sure Colin would be okay with stealing away Philip’s live-in prostitute.
