Page 8 of Fish out of Water
Banana Pants stopped, head snapping my way. “Ew.” Her eyes went up and down my front as her voice increased in both pitch and volume. “Ew!”
Why was this woman so impossible to get rid of? “What?”
“Why do you have that picture on your phone then?” Her lip curled. “Never mind. I know why you have it.” Her whole face scrunched up in a frown. “Gross.”
Was she suggesting what I thought she was?
“The last time I saw Vito was six months ago.” It was the last time he went off the rails and I had to come deal with the fallout. “I didn’t even remember it was still there.” If I had, I sure as hell wouldn’t have passed the phone off to her.
“Sure.” She walked toward the open door.
I pulled my phone out, thumbing through the screens until I came to the photo Cricket sent me a month before she decided my work was more important to me and my boss’s dick was more important to her. I tapped it and sent it to the trash. “There. It’s gone.”
Banana Pants eyed me over one shoulder. “From the cloud too?”
I finished the full removal of Cricket’s tits before turning the phone her way. “Happy?”
She smiled at me for the first time. “I am. I’m sure Cricket appreciates it too.”
Cricket didn’t give a shit. Hell, she’d probably like the thought of me still jacking off to her picture five months after she dropped me for the CEO of the startup I moved to Florida to work for.
Banana Pants lingered at the door.
“What now?”
“Nothing.” She frowned so deep the skin under her lower lip creased, but still didn’t leave. “Where do you think he is?”
The concern in her voice was evident, and it made me answer her as honestly as I could. “There’s no fucking telling.”
Her lips pursed yet again, drawing my attention to the fullness I’d been trying to ignore. “How will you find him?”
The same way I always did. I was going to have to wait him out. Sit here until whoever he screwed over came looking for their money.
Then I’d pay them off and send them on their way. Eventually Vito would come back and go on like nothing happened.
Until the next time it happened.
“He’ll come home. He always does.”
“You’re awfully laissez-faire about this.” She was late to this game and it showed.
“This happens more than you would think.” I opened the door wider. “The best thing you can do is go home and not worry about it.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Fine.”
Then she marched her banana pants out into the night, cow tails wiggling at me as she stomped toward the front of the complex.
In the dark.
Alone.
On a night there was a good chance someone unsavory was watching.
“Damn it.” I pulled Vito’s door closed and shoved the key in the lock, flipping the deadbolt before walking after her, keeping enough distance between us that she wouldn’t know I was following her, but staying close enough I could still see her.
She climbed the grassy rise between buildings, arms swinging. I kept to the darker areas as I continued on, scanning the parking lot and shrubbery for any sign someone might be watching her.
Someoneelsemight be watching her.
