Page 30 of Marcus in Retrograde
He tapped his nose, then pointed to the door. “Get out. Go home. Get drunk or something. Come back Monday. We’ll start fresh.”
Sorcha and I nodded together and headed out the door and back down to the studios. She clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Good job. I just assumed that Jerry had okayed all that.”
“I did too, honestly, and I was going to complain about him blindly accepting change orders.” I grinned. “I’m glad this was so much less nefarious than him doing a cash grab.”
“I’m closing up and heading out. Hubby and I have a hot date with a cool drink on a roof top.” She smiled. “Care to join us?”
“Your hot date? No, too straight.”
She laughed. “Good point. When is that game you want to take your neighbor to?”
Looking at the face of my phone, I gasped. “Shit, it’s this weekend! I need tickets!”
“Hop to it! And I’ll see you Monday.”
I nodded and ducked into my studio, and scrolling through the available tickets this weekend.
Marcus302: Hey, are you busy Sunday afternoon?
Chaser: Uh, maybe why?
Marcus302: I owe you, big time, for forgiving me for ditching you, for walking my dog, and for letting me keep him.
Chaser: Just buy me a pizza.
Marcus302: No. Bigger. Sunday afternoon?
Chaser: Yeah, I’m free.
Marcus302: Good. I’ll be at your door at eleven.
Chaser: That’s not afternoon!
* * *
At eleven in the morning,I knocked on Chase Garcia’s door.
He opened it before the knock even died in the hallway.
Well.
I gave him a charming grin. “Good morning. Are you set and ready to go?”
He looked me up and down, shocked. “Are you…are you decked out inCubsgear? Do you want to get shot?”
“Not particularly, but I’m not going to a Cubs game inMetsgear.” I made a fake spitting sound.
Chase’s eyes bugged right out of his head. “Awhat?”
“A Cubs game. There’s a three game series, and I got us tickets for this afternoon’s game. So, let’s get going.”
“I…uh.” He looked down at himself, his eyes then darting around. “Hold on? I gotta change.” He flew away from the door and back into his apartment. I laughed as he dove into the closet in the now living room and dug his way in.
Clicking the door closed, I looked around the former living room, waiting for him. His room was a fashion statement, with mute silvers and blues, pale gray furniture that was all reclaimed and refinished, and a set of gray and silver curtains on the windows.
Chase popped back into the bedroom and whipped his original shirt off and—
He was lithe and toned and his skin was a perfect tan color displaying his Latino heritage. A dusting of dark hair on his chest set off his skin, and it disappeared from his chest to just above his navel, where it picked back up and disappeared behind the waist of his pants.
