‘Cause you keep me coming back for more
And I feel a little better than I did before
And if I never see your face again
I don't mind
South Beach - West Coast Road, Ferguson Residence: 11 AM
Blade threw another bag of trash out the back, missing the pool by inches: a good thing since he hadn't found anything resembling a pool skimmer. Slamming through the door back into what passed for a living room, he glanced around it again. Nothing much more he could do to make it presentable and he was out of time and pissed off thinking about what he'd paid Tyler Romero for this place.
And there was Rob. Still there. "I thought you left."
"Not yet." Rob slid a hand around the the stack of boxes, made a face and said, "We're up for an RMA award."
Glancing at the clock, he had less than 15 minutes before she arrived, if she did. RMA. Not now. Rounding on Rob, he drew a breath, tried to deal with him, he'd never been able to 'deal' with Rob. "I know. More than one. Look man, I'm expecting company, you want to get out of here?"
"No," Rob said, sifting through the mail. Rob the thief. Rob the thief who had kept the band afloat but didn't seem to know when to stop getting into every damned thing. "I want to know why you think taking down Cooper's wife gets us anywhere."
He didn't feel like explaining anything, irritated and impatient, shot out, "Why the hell do you think it's any of your business?"
Rob shrugged, wandered around the room and stared out at the bay. "Every time you decide you want to get married again, you fucking go offline. Six months of bullshit, you don't work, you do nothing. Not this time, Alex. Not now."
That wasn't the way it had gone down. Maybe the first one had been trouble, maybe the second, not the third and hell no not the last bitch. "I'm not marrying the woman...she's still married to Stanfield."
Sprawling out on the couch, Rob cooly retorted, "And she should stay married to him. I'm not going anywhere. I want to meet this paragon...think I have met her and she's not all that damned hot. Have you seen his daughter? Strike that...she's available. Do not see his daughter."
Blade glared at him, looked around for something to throw at him, didn't find anything, settled for yelling, "Chase that yourself asshole. Come on, get out of here."
The doorbell rang. Even the doorbell didn't work. A strangled ring, skipping a ring, another half ring. How the hell had Tyler lived in this place? Nothing worked.
Rob smiled, shifted on the couch. "And that would be Lady Stanfield. Ding dong the bell tolls for you...hurry up, she might run away."
The front door stuck. Grabbing it, yanking it, maybe it would break this time god no not with her standing there watching him trying to open his own damned door, Blade leaned hard into it, forcing it open. Beth Stanfield stood there, not looking at him, looking at the cracked driveway or the leaky windows or the dying plants, finally looking at him, she said, kind and careful and amused and wearing something that wasn't anything near kind or careful, "Hi Blade...may I come in?"
Behind him, he heard Rob shove something, Rob walking up, Rob standing right behind him breathing down his damned neck. Beth smiled. Rob muttered, "We're screwed."
NEXT CHAPTER: Sessions Chapter 41