“Stop grinning at me, Whisky. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Any award is a big deal.”

“This one wasn’t.”

“Sorry, didn’t you say you recruited two clients because of it?”

“Wel , yeah.”

“Then it was a big deal.”

“Whisky –”

“Sunshine, quiet,” he said, then he gave me a light kiss so I’d do as I was told. “I’l see you, and your folks, at my house at six thirty.”

“Do you have a suit?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He gave me a squeeze and started to let go but I held on.

“You hear anything about Bil y –”

His eyes locked on mine and he interrupted me. “Yeah.” I sighed. “For a while there, I forgot about him.” Hank’s arms tightened and his face dipped close.

“Sweetheart, I promise, soon he’l be a memory.” I nodded because I believed him.

My body fitted itself close to his.

Hank’s head came down the rest of the way, this time, not for a light kiss but for a deeper one.

When I was dizzy, he let me go and then he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mom Bombed

I was looking out the window of the black Explorer processing my day and preparing for my night.

I was in Fortnum’s when Luke walked in ten minutes ago, eyes on me and he said one word, “Home.”

I guessed that meant he was my ride.

Annette and Jason had been spending the day casing the other head shops to check out the competition. I cal ed to tel her Hank and I had sorted things out and I was moving to Denver. She was ecstatic. We’d been trailing each other for seven years, Indianapolis to Chicago and now to Denver.

“Bitch,” she said. “With you and me in the ‘hood, Denver isn’t going to know what hit it!”

I thought it was more the other way around but I didn’t tel Annette that.

I’d also cal ed al my clients and my landlord.

My clients were cool; they didn’t care where I worked, just as long as I worked. My landlord was freaked out. The cops had cal ed him about the break in and he thought my mutilated body was buried six feet deep in some woods somewhere. I calmed him down and convinced him I wasn’t a voice from the grave. He wasn’t too upset I was leaving, considering he’d never had a tenant who’d had their furniture torn apart and went missing for two weeks, presumed (by him) dead. Anyway, I was month-to-month and he was going to let me out of the lease at the end of November.

Simple as that.

In fact, everything seemed simple.

Al that had to be done was find Bil y.

No word from Hank, which I figured meant no good news. Also, there was no bad news so I decided that no bad news was actual y good news and I went with it.

“Babe,” Luke said, pul ing me from my thoughts.

I turned to him. “Yeah?”

His chin went up, pointing over my shoulder, and I realized we were parked in front of Hank’s house. I looked toward the house, my hand going to the door handle, and I stopped dead.

“Good God,” I whispered.

The air in the Explorer changed as Luke went into alert mode.

“What?” he asked.

“Look at the house,” I breathed.

“What?” he repeated.

“Look at the house!” This time, I yel ed.

I got out of the car, slammed my door and stood on the sidewalk staring at the house.

“Roxie,” Luke, suddenly beside me, said, his fingers curling into the waistband of my cords. “Talk to me. What?”

“Pumpkins,” I said.

He looked at the house.

On the front stoop were two carved pumpkins. Also, resting against one side of the door was a bunch of dried corn stalks bound together with more (these not carved) pumpkins and some gourds nestled at the bottom. On the other side was a decoration, attached to the house, made up of three painted wooden slats dangling from wire. The top slat was a witch flying in front of a quarter moon, the middle one said “Happy Hal oween” and the bottom one was a black cat with its back arched.

I looked to Luke. “Hank’s house has been Mom Bombed,” I told him.

Luke looked at me for a second then his eyes went to his boots.

He wasn’t fast enough; I saw the half-grin.

“This is not funny. Hank’s going to freak.” The door opened and Mom stood there. “Hey there, sweetie. Why are you standing on the sidewalk?” her eyes went to Luke. “Luke, is it? Come in, I’l make you some cocoa.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered, horrified that my Mom offered hot cocoa to Badass, Super Cool Luke. I turned to Luke.

“I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want you to shoot me, I want you to shoot her.”

His fingers came out of my waistband and pressed against my lower back, pushing me forward. The half-grin had gone ful -fledged.

“I don’t know why everyone thinks this is funny. This isn’t funny,” I grumbled on the way up the walk.

“It isn’t funny because they’re your parents,” Luke explained. “To everyone else, it’s just f**kin’ funny.” We walked into the house and Shamus rushed me, took in Luke, went into a skid and slammed into me, knocking me backwards into Luke’s (very solid) body. Luke’s hands came to my h*ps and normal y I would have stepped away immediately, considering I was plastered against him, but I was too horrified by what I saw.

There were huge, empty, plastic shopping bags everywhere. Three new blankets and four fluffy pil ows were stacked on the couch. The lamp Bil y and I had broken had been replaced by another one, which now threw a soft glow on the room. In one corner, there was a four foot tal wrought iron candle holder with six, thick, green candles in the top, al lit and giving out the scent of bay. There were more candles in black holders on the coffee table, also lit. There were candles on the dining room table, ensconced in decorative corn husks and miniature gourds. On the corner of the bar, separating the dining area from the kitchen, sat an enormous Hal oween bowl fil ed to almost overflowing with Hal oween candy. I saw a new canister set for flour, sugar and coffee (I had no doubt al of them fil ed) against the back kitchen counter. Last, I could smel something cooking.

“What have you done to Hank’s house?” I asked Mom.

“Just made it cozy. Kind of a thank you gift for letting us stay and for taking care of you,” Mom answered and she looked to Luke. “You want cocoa?” she asked.