Page 57 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“Don’t make me feel like I let you down,” she said.

“Do you feel that way?” he asked.

“No...yes...maybe, a little,” she stammered.

“Good,” he said. “Because you did.”

Annie watched in silence as he strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. He couldn’t be angry with her. He had no right. What he was asking of her was unreasonable.

She sank back into her chair and leaned forward to rest her head on the desk. When she had leased the apartment across the hall to that man she’d had no idea that her life was to become this complicated. In two weeks, she’d been robbed, proposed to – sort of – and fallen desperately in love.

When Fisher had uttered those two stupid words – marry me – she had actually felt an answer inside of her that she had never anticipated. The answer was yes.

It was late afternoon when Annie pulled her mini-van – used for hauling wedding cakes – onto Denise’s street. Denise and her husband lived in a new housing development on the outskirts of the West Valley. Stucco houses with tile roofs, spaced exactly ten feet apart, went as far as the eye could see. Living this close to your neighbors had to have some perks, but Annie was damned if she could think of any. These houses were so close together that if you asked someone to pass the salt, your neighbor’s arm would probably appear in your window. No thanks.

Annie rang the bell and waited, not really expecting an answer.

Denise opened the door without bothering to ask who it was. She was wearing a ratty old sweat suit, no makeup and her hair was sporting a day-old case of bed head.

“Denise? Are you all right?” Annie gasped. “I’ve been so worried. Are you sick?”

“No...I...yes,” Denise stuttered then burst into tears. “I...he...left...for...her...”

Annie opened her arms and Denise stepped into them. When Denise’s sobs receded, they stepped into the house. Annie went straight to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee while Denise went to wash her face. Annie made a couple of sandwiches to go with the coffee. Denise looked as if she could use some sustenance.

They curled up on the sofa in the living room. Annie had to coax Denise to eat. Between mouthfuls, Denise confided to Annie what had happened.

“Edmund left me for a nail girl,” she said.

“A who?”

“A nail girl, you know, from a beauty salon,” Denise said, waving her tissue in the air. “Some girl he met at a bar during happy hour.”

“Oh my...that jerk! That no good lying, cheating jerk!” Annie cursed.

“Yeah. She has long blond hair and boobs the size of Kansas.”

“How did you find out?” Annie asked.

“His secretary – who hates him – quit and sent me a letter with all of the details. I followed him the other night and found them...together.”

“Oh, Denise, I am so sorry.” Annie hugged her friend. “Is there anything I can do?”

“That depends. How do you feel about arson?”

“Excuse me?”

“I was thinking we could torch his precious sports car,” Denise said.

“If we did, I bet his little nail girl would drop him like a hangnail. How about we break into his new place and plant a doll collection in the bedroom? I bet the nail girl would just love to be with a man who collects baby dolls.”

Denise laughed. “I wonder what he’s taking to cure his flatulence problem. I can’t imagine she enjoys his usual morning symphony.”

“Maybe we could just replace his vitamins with plain old beans. Wouldn’t she just love a toot-toot serenade? Preferably when he’s meeting her parents,” Annie suggested, bursting into laughter. Denise laughed with her until they were both weak.

“How dumb am I that I didn’t see the signs?” Denise asked, suddenly serious. “The sports car, going out with the guys every night, joining a gym, all of it. What was I thinking? I thought it was a phase. I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. You loved him,” she said.

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