Page 62 of After 5

He leapt out of bed and grabbed the Confederate sword angled next to my nightstand. I ignored the brief flash from last night of him holding the sword and exclaiming he was King Arthur. Did that happen?

His upper half was naked and glorious, his bottom half clad in navy boxers currently tented by his manhood.

“What’s wrong?” he shouted.

I pointed at the hawk and eyed his bottom half.

He glanced down. “It’s a morning thing,” he shrugged, keeping the sword pointed at the hawk.

“Where did the bird come from?” Marco asked.

“I think it belongs to Darryl.”

“Your cousin from the bar last night?”

“He lives next door.”

Marco sighed.

“He brought a few animal friends with him when he moved in,” I explained.

The bird gave me the stink eye and then flew out the door, releasing the snake before he left. The snake slithered down the bedpost to the floor. I couldn’t control the blood curdling scream that followed the snake as it shifted toward Marco, who promptly chopped off his head with the sword.

“What’s the matter?” Gertie rushed into the bedroom, tying her bathrobe.

Brodie followed behind her rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His jeans were open at the top button. “What’s all the ruckus?”

Gertie’s eyes took in Marco. He lowered the sword to the level of his crotch.

Brodie grimaced.

“One of Darryl’s pets came in through the French door,” I explained. “A hawk. It had a snake in its claws.”

Gertie peered around the bed at the decapitated snake. The reptile didn’t faze Gertie. She yawned. “I guess we had a good time last night. I was out for the count as soon as my head hit the pillow.”

“Ya, which means I didn’t have such a good time,” Brodie teased.

Gertie’s face flushed a light shade of pink.

“Let’s go make the coffee,” Gertie said and left the room. Brodie followed her.

“Did we have a good time last night?” I asked, still standing on my bed.

A grin spread across Marco’s face. “I had more fun than Brodie.”

Before I could ask him if we did the deed, Gertie shrieked from downstairs, and Brodie hollered, “Stop tha’ ya arse!”

“I’ll check it out if you want to get dressed,” I told Marco. Grabbing a pair of running shorts, I slid them on and snatched a headband off my dresser to hold back my unruly hair. I left him sword in hand. His tent was slowly losing its shape.

A llama stood in my kitchen chewing the tea towel my mother gave me that cleverly read, Don’t go bacon my heart.

“Where’d this beast come from?” Brodie asked.

“Three guesses,” Gertie said, moving around the llama to start the coffee.

I tried to pry the remnants of the tea towel from its mouth.

The sliding glass door stood open. “Did he open the door?” I asked.

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