“Meh, those are just minor details at this point.”
“Okay. Here’s the deal,” he said, lining up another nail. “Wrap those gorgeous lips of yours around my cock, and we’ll call it even.”
“Slut,” I responded through a cough.
“I never said dirty talk was a requirement, but if that’s what gets you off, I guess I can roll with it.” He glanced over his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows in my direction.
“You know,” I responded, tapping my chin. “Considering I’m a fan of sucking cock, I probably would’ve gone for it. But since you lost Walter, and we’ve yet to find Satan himself, I’m gonna have to pass.”
“Shit. I almost forgot about that goddamn cat,” Thatch muttered.
“Yeah, I kind of did too,” I said, eyes still fixated on his biceps as he hammered in the last nail. I was starting to think we were terrible friends to Kline and Georgie. I probably should have been out searching for Walnuts rather than lounging around, watching Thatch’s big muscles at work.
It was definitely time to resume our search. No way in hell could I let Georgia come home to her cat missing.
I got up from my bed and headed for the hallway. “Move those fucking clown feet into my bathroom and get cleaned up. Time’s a wastin’ on finding The Asshole.” I called over my shoulder.
A few feet into the hallway, I heard Thatch mutter, “Jesus Christ. That little cocksucker. Not even my cat, and he’s ruining everything.”
“Don’t you think we should actually search the apartment building in which he vanished before the rest of Manhattan?” I asked for the second time today.
Crazy Cassie had been convinced immediately after Walter’s disappearing act that he’d up and, I don’t know, fucking teleported himself to the other side of Central Park. She’d dragged me out onto the sidewalk, and led by the helpful direction of her tits, I’d followed right along on a roller coaster ride straight into hell. Up and down the sidewalks of the park, from one side to the other and back again, a Twilight Zone cab ride, and a little light manual labor at her apartment later, and here I was, about to follow her into the depths of Manhattan fitness and fornication again.
I guess that makes me the crazy one.
“Would you stop contradicting every fucking thing I say? Use that beanstalk body of yours and search the surrounding area.”
Fed up, I pulled her to a stop with the hand she was dragging me by. “I’m going back to search the building, and if I don’t find him, I’m calling Kline.”
“Thatcher—”
“No, Cass. Stay out here and search if you want, but you’ll never find Walnuts in the bevy of strays combing Central Park. God, for all we know, the little prick has a key to their apartment and is halfway through his afternoon bath in the middle of their goddamn bed.”
“Shit!” she yelled, her face falling as she started running in the direction we had come, shoving people out of the way as she went.
“What?” I asked, breaking into a jog to keep up.
“The door!” she shrieked. “We left the door to their apartment open!”
Oh, fuck.
Yeah, safe bet they weren’t going to be asking us to watch their apartment or their cat again.
My legs were twice the length of hers, so I passed her easily, sprinting through the crowded sidewalk. I slammed through the door, nodding at the doorman as I went, and thanking fuck their building had one.
Too impatient to wait for the elevator, I took the stairs three at a time. Fourteen stories up with sweat pouring like a fucking faucet from my temples, I finally burst through the stairwell door and out into their hallway.
The door was open just like Cass had said, so I said a silent prayer I hadn’t just deprived my best friend and his new bride of all their belongings.
Shoving the door as I went, I slid to a stop just inside and examined the open floor plan with manic eyes. All the furniture seemed to be in place, and nothing of value stood out as missing, but I hadn’t kept an actual fucking inventory list either.
I’d just started to take a full breath when a tap on my shoulder sent me into a near seizure.
Cassie spoke as if nothing was amiss. “Stuff’s all here, but no devil cat. The door was closed, by the way. Whoops.”
I put a hand to my forehead and tried to stop the nearly brain-piercing urge to strangle her.
“What took you so long?” she went on, having beaten me up here by taking the elevator.
White-hot rage consumed every cubic inch of my insides, but I tried my best to tamp it down.
Is this what an aneurysm feels like?
“Hey, Thatcher, you okay?” she asked, her face turning serious as I sank to the floor and rubbed at the tension in my temples. Her bra-covered breasts pushed against the fabric of her T-shirt as she sat down beside me.