Walking Disaster

his problem—and mine.
    My eyes focused on the bathroom door. The faucet had been running since she’d gone in there. I didn’t know if she was taking a shit or a shower. No way was I going to get her out of
the apartment before the girls came. It would look worse if I was caught trying to sweep her out, so I decided to change the sheets on my bed and pick up a little bit, instead.
    “Where is Abby going to sleep?” I asked, looking at the couch. I wasn’t going to let her sprawl out on fourteen months of body fluids.
    “I don’t know. The recliner?”
    “She’s not sleeping on the fucking recliner, assclown.” I scratched my head. “I guess she’ll sleep in my bed.”
    Shepley howled, his laughter spanning at least two blocks. He bent over and grabbed his knees, his face turning red.
    “What?”
    He stood up and pointed, shaking his finger and his head at me. He was too amused to talk, so he just walked away, trying to continue cleaning while his body shuddered.
    Eleven minutes later, Shepley was jogging across the front room to the door. He made his way down the stairs, and then nothing. The faucet in the bathroom finally shut off, and it became very
quiet.
    After a few minutes more, I heard the door bang open, and Shepley complaining between grunts.
    “Christ, baby! Your suitcase is twenty pounds more than Abby’s!”
    I walked into the hall, seeing my latest conquest emerge from the bathroom. She froze in the hallway, took one look at Abby and America, and then finished buttoning her blouse. She definitely
wasn’t freshening up in there. She still had makeup smeared all over her face.
    For a minute, I was completely distracted from the awkwardness by the letters
W, T,
and
F
. I guess she wasn’t as uncomplicated as previously thought, making America and
Abby’s unannounced visit even more welcome. Even if I was still in my boxers.
    “Hi,” she said to the girls. She looked down at their luggage, her surprise turning to total confusion.
    America glared at Shepley.
    He held up his hands. “She’s with Travis!”
    That was my cue. I turned the corner and yawned, patting my guest’s ass. “My company’s here. You’d better go.”
    She seemed to relax a bit and smiled. She wrapped her arms around me, and then kissed my neck. Her lips felt soft and warm not an hour ago. In front of Abby, they were like two sticky buns lined
with barbed wire.
    “I’ll leave my number on the counter.”
    “Eh . . . don’t worry about it,” I said, purposefully nonchalant.
    “What?” she asked, leaning back. The rejection in her eyes shone bright, searching mine for something other than what I truly meant. Glad this was coming out now. I might have called
her again and made things very messy. Mistaking her for a possible frequent flyer was a bit startling. I was usually a better judge than that.
    “
Every
time!” America said. She looked at the woman. “
How
are you surprised by this? He’s Travis Fucking Maddox! He is
famous
for this very
thing, and
every
time they’re surprised!” she said, turning to Shepley. He put his arm around her, gesturing for her to calm down.
    The woman’s eyes narrowed, on fire with anger and embarrassment, and then she stormed out, grabbing her purse on the way.
    The door slammed, and Shepley’s shoulders tensed. Those moments bothered him. I, on the other hand, had a shrew to tame, so I strolled into the kitchen and opened the fridge as if nothing
had happened. The hell in her eyes foretold a wrath like I had never experienced (not because I hadn’t come across a woman who wanted to hand my ass to me on a silver platter, but because
I’d never cared to stick around to hear it).
    America shook her head and walked down the hall. Shepley followed her, angling his body to compensate for the weight of her suitcase as he trailed behind her.
    Just when I thought Abby would strike, she collapsed into the recliner.
Huh. Well . . . she’s pissed. Might as well get it over with.
    I crossed my arms, keeping a minimum safe distance from her by staying in the kitchen. “What’s wrong, Pidge? Hard day?”
    “No, I’m thoroughly disgusted.”
    It was a start.
    “With me?” I asked with a smile.
    “Yes,
you
. How can you just use someone like that and treat them that way?”
    And so it began. “How did I treat her? She offered her number, I declined.”
    Her mouth fell open. I tried not to laugh. I don’t know why it amused me so much to see her flustered and