Suzie’s House #62: You Can and I Can’t?
Last week, and the week before, we caught Vin and Miranda in bed together. It was not their first time to do it, but it was their first to get caught. Suzie was a bit tipsy at the time, but not so far gone she didn’t know what she was seeing.
Suzie hacked off the tops of two carrots with a vicious swing of a cleaver. She knew darn well a cleaver was overkill for a couple of medium sized carrots, but she swung with gusto anyway.
“Miranda, how could you do it?”
Miranda sat at the kitchen table with her legs crossed, her chin propped up by one hand, the other stirring the coffee in front of her with a dissolute air.
“I tried not to.” Her voice was small, partly muffled by her hand.
“I knew something was going on . I just knew it.” Suzie shoved the carrots into the Cuisenart. For the seconds of life remaining the vegetables, nothing could be heard, which suited Suzie’s mood very well. Then she had about three cups of shredded carrots and all the same concerns as before. “Why couldn’t you have just left him alone?”
“Are you telling me I’m supposed to keep my hands off Vin, but there’s nothing wrong with you boinking Drew?”
“That’s different.” Suzie transferred the carrots to a serving bowl with a lid. “I don’t freak out and turn into a rampaging bitch when I’m in love.”
“No. You turn into a doormat.”
Suzie flinched, then glared at Miranda.
“Sorry. Forget I said that. I didn’t mean it.” Miranda twisted to the side, her mouth an uneven frown.
“See? It’s already started.” Suzie shuddered. Knowing Miranda, things were like to get much, much worse before they were through. She went to the fridge for a lemon. “Besides. Drew and I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re kidding.”
With her hand on the fridge handle, she stopped and sighed. She’d had such grand schemes for seduction right up until she opened the door to Vin’s room for fear he was dieing of his bullet wounds. But even though she’d closed the door the instant Vin said, “Don’t you people ever knock?” whatever sparks had been passing between her and Drew were gone. He’d seen her to her room, then simply left her there.
“I thought for sure last night…. Heck, I thought a week ago….”
Suzie shook her head.
“Crimany. We are so messed up. You aren’t doing it when you should be and I am when I shouldn’t. It’s just…. I can’t help it, Suzie. I don’t mean to do anything, but then Vin gives this… this look and…. I can’t help it.”
“Fine. I understand. I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner. Just promise me one thing, Miranda.”
“I can’t promise I’ll leave him alone, but I’ll try.” She looked at her coffee like an orphan looking at a bowl of gruel.
“No. Not that. What I want you to promise is that this time you’ll step back now and then and clear your head. When you start to get jealous and scared and crazy the way you do, stop and think what it must look like to Vin, ok?
“Ok. I’ll try. I think I can do that.” Miranda didn’t look very sure of herself, but considering some of the things she’d done over the years in similar circumstances, Suzie couldn’t blame her.
“Don’t worry too much. I’ll help.”
Miranda quirked an eyebrow.
“When you get crazy, I’ll let you know. All right?” Suzie quirked an eyebrow at Miranda. “Then all you have to do is stop whatever it is you’re doing and think.”
“All right. I guess that sounds good. Ok, so are we still on for tomorrow night?”
“You, me and Vin chasing Christina around in my car? You know it.”
The previous was Suzie’s House 61: A Compromising Position
This is Suzie’s House 62: You Can and I Can’t?
Next is Suzie’s House 63: Brothers in Arms
Thursday Thirteen 22: Ways to clean a house without actually doing housework.
All the cleaning suggestions that have been made in the last couple of weeks have inspired me. Here are my not-cleaning tips.
1. Designate one room as a place where no one is allowed to look. Put everything left out in the open in any other room in the house into that room. Close the door. Lock it. Vuala! You are done.
2. Tell you husband how sexy he is when he’s doing dishes. Hey, it’s true. He might as well know it. If you’re lucky, he will even do the dishes with his shirt off, “so it won’t get wet.”
3. Assign vacuuming as a regular chore for the kids. Tell them that getting everything off the floor is part of the process. Don’t let them have the key to the dump room or let them move things from floor to side table.
4. Hire a maid. (I wish!)
5. Convince yourself you don’t have to clean up before the maid gets there because she needs the extra hours anyway. So you end up blushing a little. So long as she doesn’t get the key to the dump room, you’re golden.
6. Wait until the door to the fridge sticks so badly you have to yank on it to get it open before looking too closely at the gunk on the bottom. Just don’t keep anything on the bottom shelf in the meanwhile. This works best with wire shelves.
7. Put decorative paint on the bathroom mirrors so flying toothpaste doesn’t show so much. Then you only have to wipe it down every week or so when it gets so thick you can’t see anything anymore rather than twice a day when the splatters first appear. This is easier than teaching the kids not to splatter in the first place.
8. Dusting can take care of itself. Really. Wait long enough and the dust bunnies will join forces and turn into rhinos. You can simply turn the garbage can on its side and wave a red flag and they will all run inside. Trust me on this one.
9. Don’t unlock the door to that special room until the next time you expect company. Then when you clean the house, be careful not to look at anything too closely while you pile things higher. I hope you didn’t pick your office for this.
10. Dump the dishtowels straight into the drawer without bothering to fold them. I learned this one from my ds when he wouldn’t quit pulling them out and scattering them around the floor as a baby.
11. Tell company that the odd mounds of belongings are not yours. They were left behind by A) relatives, B) friends. or C) the Pixie Queen who will put a spell on anyone who disapproves.
12. Move. Hire the packing, or just leave it behind.
13. Take a deep breath, put on a book-on-tape, and just do it. If it’s a real good book, you may want to keep on cleaning.
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By George! What Manner of Company is This?
After all his efforts to repair the damage to his reputation, Gorge IV still couldn’t get a break with either his parents or the London press. What’s a poor boy to do? If he has the right kind of friends, go wild.
The Barrymores, Duke, Countess, and two other brothers made for colourful copy. While riding down to Brighton, they enjoyed uprooting or otherwise changing roadsigns. Another endearing trick would be to, while riding through an unsuspecting village, have the Countess scream “Murder! Rape! Unhand me you villian!” When concerned citizens chased after the carriage and forced to stop, the Barrymores would leap out and begin subjecting them to the lowest sort of vearbal abuse.
Once in Brighton, they liked to go to nice, middle class homes in the middle of the night carrying a coffin. They would then scare the hell out of the servants by announcing that they had come to collect the body of the master of the house. One of the brothers, nicknamed “Cripplegate” because of his club foot, made an impression on Mrs Fitzherbert by rideing his horse into her house and up the stairs to the garret, where he dismounted and left it there for her to deal with.
Another Barrymore, nicknamed “Hellgate”, once entertained Mrs Fitzherbert by dressing as a woman and singing a serenade beneath her bedroom window. At three in the morning. Mrs Fitzherberts reaction to all this is not recorded. But considering the effort she went to to keep The Prince in line, one could safely assume that she was not amused. The anti-prince press had a field day.
Not content to sit back while his friends dragged his name through the mud, The Prince decided to help. Very soon after Parliament voted him the money to finish Carlton House and pay his debts, he took some of the money to re-establish his raceing stable. He was soon losing stupendous sums at the track. All this, and he had barely gotten started on Brighton Pavilion.
The press may have been hounding him, but The Prince was not the least bit shy about defending himself. After one particularly blunt article appered in a newspaper, he wrote to the editor to protest against “this most infamous and shocking libelious production that ever disgraced the pen of man.” He went on to demand that these “damnedable doctrines of the hell-begotten Jacobines ought to be taken up in a very serious manner by the government and prosecuted.” Since dad and his Tory ministers WERE the government, The Prince would be ice skateing in hell before that happened.
If The Princes friends were behaveing badly in Brighton, the town seemed willing enough to let The Prince slide. Evidence of this was provided by the birthday bash the town threw for him in August, 1789. The occasion of The Princes birthday was completely ignored by mom and dad; to no ones surprise. But the town of Brighton more than made up for it.
There were donkey races, sailing races, and boxing matches where The Prince handed out the prizes. Hogsheads of ale were tapped on the town commons, a whole ox was roasted with chunks of it being cut away with a broadsword. There were fireworks that night and a torchlight procession through the middle of town to see the Prince to bed. Happy birthday Prince!
It would be the last happy event The Prince would experience for some time.
Checking them out
I was surfing along yesterday when I ran across a picture of four guys. This was not the usual strip-club fair of four buff guys oiled and posed with little black bow ties and not much else, just three average guys. And I immediately checked them over for do-ability.
Am I twisted or what? I feel like such a dog. Unless, of course, I’m not the only “ma-am” out there giving total strangers a quick once or twice over.
No. Even then I’m twisted, cause my quick look at a mere photo was enough for me to pick one out. Yep, that’s right, in a picture of four nerds, all of them complete strangers to me, I marked one a maybe.
Now fess up. Knowing you wouldn’t really do anything about it, couldn’t you choose a guy based on a snapshot? Or would you really need to get to know him better before you could even consider getting jiggy with a man? If you were actually in the market for a relationship, and you met someone casually, would you watch a guy, turning it over in your mind, or go right up and talk to him?
Crab Louis
from the Don’t Eat Your Heart Out cookbook
1 head lettuce
1/2 pound crab meat
1/4 cup sliced waterchestnuts
2 stalks celery, thinly sliced
3 green onions with tops, thinly sliced
1/2 green pepper, chopped
2 tomatoes, cut into wedges
1 bunch asparagus spears, steamed 2-4 minutes
lemon wedges
Dressing:
3/4 c mayonnaise
2 T. lemon juice
2 T. grated onion
combine mayonnaise, lemon juice, and onion; chill 30 minutes. Line chilled salad bowls with outside leaves of lettuce; shred remaining lettuce. Toss shredded lettuce, crab, waterchestnuts, celery, green onion and green pepper with salad dresing to moisten; spoon into lettuce-lined bowls. Garnish with tomatoes, asparagus and lemon wedges.
No, Jack! No!
Jack: Drinking.
Jill: I can see that. What I want to know is why?
Jack: You want me to paint the thing on the roof, right?
Jill: (slowly) Yeahhhhhh.
Jack: I needed a little courage.
Jill: Oh no. No, no, no! You are not going up there like this.
Jack: Do you want it done, or don’t you?
saturday photo scavenger hunt
The rules for Photohunt can be found here.
Today’s theme is Glass
Maribeth
SnoopyTheGoon
SargeCharlie
Previously in Jack and Jill;
Jack and Jill Paint the House
Suzie’s House 61: A Compromising Position
We’re going to backtrack in time a little bit this week. Last week we ended with Suzie and Drew coming home from the Cardinal. This week we are starting while they are still there.
Vin jerked awake at the sound of the burglar alarm going off. He found himself still sitting in the living room with the remote in his hand, but the TV was off along with all the lights. He almost called out to Miranda or Suzie that they should check the alarm when it dawned on him whoever tripped it could be here to kill him.
He swore, one harsh word, as he tossed off the comforter someone had draped over him. In a low rumble he added, “better not be a redhead.”
He pulled out the drawer in the side table where he’d stashed his gun a day or two before. Having stood up too quickly made him a little light headed, but it cleared up quickly when he blinked a few times. The gun in his hand felt heavy and awkward. He’d have to make an effort to get down to the shooting range as soon.
Before stepping into the hall, he stuck his head around the corner. A dark shape by the front door stabbed at the panel on the alarm and swore and a rough but feminine voice. Miranda. Vin set the gun on the bookcase in the hall nestled by the door and swept into the hall.
Miranda must not have heard him coming. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he said, “Problem?”
“Oh! It’s you. Do you remember the code for this stupid thing?”
“Sure.” He leaned around her and keyed it in. “So…. Where you been?”
“You aren’t my keeper,” she growled.
“I never said I was.”
“And we aren’t really engaged, no matter what people might say to you.” Her eyes shifted earnestly around his face as if begging him to believe it.
“If you say so.” Vin grinned. He liked the way her mind was working.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“I think I’ve napped enough.” He stretched carefully, lifting his right arm much higher than the one in the sling. “I’ll go join Suzie and Drew in the kitchen.” He’d noticed the kitchen light was on when he went into the hall.
“They aren’t here.”
They weren’t? “Neither of them?” If neither of them were home, and Miranda was just getting back, that meant his entire support team had abandoned him. Admittedly, he’d been out of the hospital for a couple of weeks now. He wasn’t a little boy. He could take care of himself.
“What were you all doing?”
“We went out.” Miranda stuck her chin out – always a bad sign. When she got her back up, she could be hard to live with.
He sniffled a couple of times, and stuck out his lip, watching closely to see how she’d react. “You all left me here? All alone?”
“We went to the Cardinal, all right? But Sean and Joseph weren’t there so…”
“You tried to crack the case without me?!” Anger blazed through him hot and immediate. “After forcing me to agree let both of you join me when I investigate them you went ahead and did it without me?”
“You were asleep.” Miranda wiggled her head apologetically. “I tried to sneak out, but Suzie caught me. And then Drew caught the two of us. And…. And… I’m sorry. I should have insisted you come too. But you didn’t miss anything. They weren’t in either place.”
“Other place?”
“The Caribou. Drew and Suzie were dancing and I got bored, and we thought Sean and Joseph would be at the Caribou all along and… Look, it’s a long story and you look tired.”
“I don’t feel tired.”
She put her arm around him like a nurse, or maybe more like a wife. Clearly, she intended to take care of him. He liked that idea, liked it a lot. He didn’t put up a lot of resistance when she started up the stairs still bracing him. Last time she tucked him in had worked out just the way he liked.
“I worry about you, Vin.”
“Yeah? How much?” He gave her a grin.
“More than you deserved.”
She got him as far as his bed, then stood over him, wringing her hands.
“Aren’t you going to undress me? I’d do it myself, but I have so much trouble with buttons and sleeves.”
“You got yourself dressed well enough this morning.”
“And now I’m hurting because of it. Come one, Miranda. Help me out here.” He meant with more than the clothes. He could tell by the twist in her smile she took both meanings.
The remainder of this episode is on the newsletter. Those of you who signed up before should receive it without a problem. If there is a problem or if you would like to receive this episode directly, please contact me at Alice Audrey Write @ aol dot com and I will send it to you personally.
The previous was Suzie’s House 60: Taking Advantage
This is Suzie’s House 61: A Compromising Position
Next is Suzie’s House 62: You Can and I Can’t?
Thursday Thirteen #21: Cups of Coffee
Sometimes a cup of coffee is a real work of art.
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Can’t you smell the cinnimon and hazlenut? Mmmmm… and I don’t even drink coffee! There’s a couple of bonus pictures, just for fun.
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By George! Trying to Look Respectable
Have you been wondering what Mr. Al meant about Queen Elizabeth the First and a sermon? Me too.
One Sunday, during the reign of Elizabeth the First, her Majesty was attending services and found the preacher getting a bit long winded. Her pew was separate from the rest, of course, and surrounded by a privacy screen. She tapped on the screen with her fan as a signal to the preacher to wind things up. The preacher read the tap to mean he needed to increase the volume. He did so. More royal tapping. The preacher then interpreted the tapping to mean he needed to put a bit more fire into his delivery.He then began waving his arms, gesturing violently as he belted out the sermon. More tapping followed. Very insistent tapping. As vexed as he was, he turned up the volume even more. So there the fellow was, standing in front of a very large gathering of very important people, waving his arms like a man possessed, screaming out a sermon at the top of his lungs, when Her Majesties privacy screen suddenly slid open. Her Majesty was not amused. She told him, in a raised, angry voice to put a cork in it and get on with the services. The screen closed with a loud crack. This was followed by much muffled laughter from the congregation.
It should come as no surprise that George III loved long, boring sermons. After all the bad press during George III’s illness, both the Prince and his brother realized they would have to take action to repair their public image. To that end, they set off on a trip to Yorkshire, a Whig stronghold. They had the presence of mind to keep themselves respectable. This was a propaganda trip, after all.
No excessive drinking, at least in public. No cards or any other gambling, and no skirt chasing. It was to be all shaking hands, kissing babies and dancing with old ladies at charity balls. It worked. Everyone, even The Times, praised the brothers behavior. Not a sour note was struck the whole trip. The Prince and the Duke were putting paid to all those nasty stories that had circulated since dad had fallen ill.
Then they returned to London. It was as if they had never been away. Few in London, particularly the Queen, were impressed. She continued her abusive behavior towards them. At this point, even those closest to the Queen were beginning to find her attitude toward the Prince, indeed, all her male offspring, at little disturbing. These kids were not the best-behaved lot, but they did have some good points.
It didn’t help that papers like The Times would describe the Prince as a man “who would at all times prefer a bottle and a girl to politics and a sermon.” Well…Duh! Unfortunately, the continued parental animosity combined with his seemingly irredeemable public reputation caused the Prince to give up on being good once he was firmly back in London.
It didn’t help that the Princes friends were often worse than he was. The term “rakehell” was, I believe, coined about this time. It describes the Princes party pals to a tee. Gents like the Duke of Norfolk, a dedicated whoremonger who refused to bathe and could only be cleaned when he was too drunk to prevent his servants from doing so. There were a few “ladies” on the roster. When it came to the Better Sorts of the period, boozing, gambling and sleeping around were not confined to the men.
One was the Countess of Barrymore; daughter of a sedan chairman and a rather higher end courtesan named Letitia Lade. (Yes, that was her last name.) Another chap worth mentioning is the Duke of Queensbury, whom one historian described as being “Cleaner than Norfolk, but a good deal more depraved.” He was the Kings Lord of the Bedchamber. He was also a legendary drunk and a familiar face at the worst whorehouses in London.
He was dismissed from his post after the Kings recovery when it was discovered that he was a frequent visitor to Carlton House. It was at this time that The Prince began to let his London life overlap with his Brighton life. The good citizens of Brighton, and Mrs. Fitzherbert, were about to get a taste of what the London papers had been writing about for months.
Extension
This time of year, when I’m crunching numbers and not liking any of them and am dealing with revenue streams – or trickles as the case may be – from a variety of sources I am reminded that I’m NOT a tax accountant. I don’t live and breath tax law all year long. I just sort of muddle through the season.First I have to get the books ready for the tax accountant at work. Apparently he has been very happy with me for doing this service. I can only imagine what he had to do before I took over the depreciation schedules, let alone started digging out the amortization and PITI balances for him.
Then I’m in the thick of it with the taxes for a partnership followed by a couple of individual tax returns.
So what word does the back of my mind keep tossing at me?
Extension.
Only this year I really don’t want to do the extension thing because I’m pretty sure I can get that economic incentive money.
So I guess it’s back to the salt mines with me. I’ll get back to revisions once the forms are in the mail.
Are you doing anything special with your taxes this year? Do you expect to get money back? Do you ever file an extension? If I’m being too nosy then just ignore me today. I’m lost in number land.
Creative Packaging
This one is from an email titled tromp d’oeil & creative packaging. It had too many pictures for this poor blog to handle, so I broke it in two.
SOS
The actual name for this recipe is something like Shtuff on a Shingle. It’s something my grandmother would whip up when she ran out of time or was too tired to cook.
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 jar chip beef
toast
Warm chip beef and can of soup on stove. Pour over slices of toast. Serve.
Jack and Jill Paint the House
As if climbing up the file cabinet to get the paint last week wasn’t bad enough. This week Jill wants to actually use the paint.
Jack: You want me to paint WHAT?
Jill: Come on, Jack. You can see for yourself it’s just primer. We have to paint it soon. The real estate lady said so.
Jack: By “we” you wouldn’t happen to mean you, would you?
Jill: You don’t really expect ME to get on the roof, do you? Do you have any idea how steep it is?
Jack: Yeah. I know exactly how steep it is. So what will you do if I fall off and die?
Jill: Um…. cry?
Jack: I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this.
saturday photo scavenger hunt
The rules for Photohunt can be found here.
Today’s theme is High
Michelle
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Sandier Pastures
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SargeCharlie
I am disappointed in this picture. To get it I had to literally lay in the gutter. The sun on the screen of my camera made it hard to tell what I was getting, so I didn’t realize you can’t see Jill pointing to the top of the house.
Previously in Jack and Jill: Jack and Jill Went Up the Filing Cabinet.
Suzie’s House 60: Taking Advantage
She was killing him, all soft and warm and leaning against him. Her eyes were a little blurry with the beer and the lateness of the hour. He told himself not to let her feathery touches go to his head, or rather his lower regions.
She couldn’t feel too good about men right now, after having run into her ex, yet she hadn’t gone cold on him. Drew hoped her less-restrained reaction to him had more to do with her faith in him than in the amount of beer he’d poured down her throat.
“Suzie.” He stopped dancing – if you could call what they were doing dancing, crammed so tightly together on what passed for a dance floor at the Cardinal bar. “Suzie, let’s go home.”
“Yeah.” She nodded drunkenly, a silly smile on her face, her arms around his neck, making no effort to release him. “Good idea.”
Now he had a problem. He had a bulge in the front of his pants that wasn’t going away. He’d been waiting on it for a long time already, but with Suzie holding him so tight, it just got worse. He had an urge to hold something over his front like a teen-age boy grabbing a pillow to hide behind. He could just hear Vin saying “Smooth move, Ace.”
“Come on Cinderella, time to leave the ball.” He winced at his own poor choice of words.
Gently prying her fingers loose, he turned her around. With his hands on her hips he was able to guide her out of the bar while keeping himself covered. They staggered out of the hot, humid room into a cool, humid night. A handful of stars winked down on them. In this muggy land, the stars hardly ever showed in full force. He wished they did, so he could stand close to her and point at constellations.
“I’m not the designated driver,” she said as he guided her to the passenger’s side of his car.
“You most certainly are not.”
“But I’m not really drunk! You don’t have to be a gentleman or anything, because I’m only a little drunk.” She let him ease her into the seat and reach across for the buckle.
“I’m sure you’re not,” he assured her as he moved away.
She wouldn’t let him go. She grabbed on to his head, and kissed him until he stopped trying to back out. Only when his heart started racing and the zipper on the front of his pants started to crimp and bind did he pry himself away.
“Just remember, I know what I’m doing.” She nodded to the windshield as if talking to a phantom there.
“Yeah.” He closed her door carefully before getting in the driver’s seat.
“Still, I’m glad it’s you driving.” She curled up on the seat with her knees toward him, put a hand on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.
Drew sighed. Looked like he’d plied her with a little too much beer. He wasn’t going to get lucky tonight.
He parked behind the house, and carried her in through the kitchen. She came alive in his arms as he juggled her to get the burglar alarm turned off, and he reluctantly put her on her feet.
“Vin? Miranda?” Suzie stumbled forward a few feet into the room lit dimly by the light over the stove. “Shouldn’t she be back now?”
“What do you mean back?”
“She was going to the Caribou to find Joseph and Sean, remember?”
“Oh. The Caribou.” He had wondered where Miranda thought she’d find the deadly brothers. “Oh course.”
Suzie blinked owlishly at him for a minute or two, then her eyes went very wide and she put her hand over her mouth in a cartoon-style surprise. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Drew looped and arm over her shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed.” He guided her toward the central hall, which lead to the stairs.
“But what about Miranda? What if she runs into them?”
“I’m sure she will be fine.”
She stopped on the staircase, refusing to go up, and shook her head in a wobbly way. “But what if she actually finds them? Oh! I never thought of that. We have to go rescue her.” Suzie tried to turn toward the kitchen, but Drew simply guided her all the way around until she faced the steps.
“She won’t find them. I shot them. If they aren’t in the hospital, then they must be some other place licking their wounds. Regardless, they won’t be in any bars.”
“Oh.” Suzie blinked at him a couple of times. Then her eyes narrowed. “You knew that all along, didn’t you. You knew what we were doing and you let us because you knew we wouldn’t get hurt.”
He answered with a hint of a smile as he gently pushed on the small of her back, trying to get her up the stairs.
“You, Drew **, are a bad man. A very bad man.” She said it with a grin of admiration, and an unsteady wag of her finger.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He cozied up behind her so he could be sure she wouldn’t fall, wrapped an arm across her middle, and walked her up.
She was sloppy and loose in his arm, but didn’t fight him so they made it to the upstairs hall with only one incident, that being when she stopped to kiss him after having kept her head craned around for half the journey so she could look at his face.
“Suzie,” he groaned. “You’re killing me here.”
“I can tell,” she taunted with a provocative wiggle.
Tucking under an arm while she clung to him like a high-school date, he headed for her bedroom.
“Are you sure Miranda will be all right? Maybe we should check on her.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he told Suzie, but he noticed Miranda’s door stood open though the light was off. Generally when Miranda went to bed, she closed the door. Wasn’t it bar time yet? He glanced at his watch. Not yet, but close.
Suzie planted her feet in front of Miranda’s room. “What’s her door doing open? She knows I hate it when she leaves it open. She’s such a slob.”
“I don’t know.” Drew gently tugged on her, but she had her feet spread in a solid stance and didn’t budge. “Maybe Vin went in for something.”
“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t open when … Vin! We should check on him.” Suzie spun on her heel and marched off the way they’d come, no doubt intended on knocking on Vin’s door.
“He’s probably resting, Suzie. We should leave him alone.”
“I won’t wake him up.” Suzie wobbled into a chair, making it clatter loudly. “I’ll just make sure
“He’d probably rather Miranda did it.”
“Of course he would.” Suzie gave Drew a sharp look over her shoulder, or rather a look that would have been sharp if her eyes had focused better. “But she isn’t here. We will have to do it.”
Exasperated, Drew scrambled to keep up with her, keeping her from bumping into the walls. “At least be subtle about it. Don’t go slamming the door open or anything.”
“Of course not.” She grabbed the doorknob, then hesitated. She rested her forehead on the wooden door, then rolled it toward Drew, still leaning into the door. “Do you hear breathing?”
Drew put his ear to the door. It was muffled, but clear. “Yes, I do.”
“You’re probably right. We should let him rest.” Suzie let go of the knob.
From deep within the room came a low, almost tortured sounding moan. Vin must be in horrible pain to make such a sound. Drew and Suzie shared a wide-eyed look of alarm. They threw open the door.
Vin and Miranda looked up from the bed like dogs caught raiding the kitchen table.
The previous was Suzie’s House 59: Chance Encounter with the Ex
This is Suzie’s House 60: Taking Advantage
Next is Suzie’s House 61: A Compromising Position
