drinks?”
Emily’s face struggled to maintain a pretense of control.
“Well, in that case, it’s a good thing I hit the bastard. Jesus, the man has issues.”
“But you hit him with my shoe. He might be hurt. He might be bleeding.”
“He might want to sue,” Margot added with a nod.
“Christian should have warned me about him if we were going to be living here. What a piece of work—just like that asshole professor of yours,” Zoey muttered. “You’re always making excuses for people’s bad behavior.”
“We’re not talking about Vandin, now,” Emily snapped. “Wait. What did you mean ‘Christian should have warned you’? Why does Christian have anything to do with it?”
She hesitated. “He lives here.”
Emily looked stunned. Even Margot put down the newspaper.
“They all live here, the whole band, all right? It’s out now. Okay? I was sure you’d never agree to rent the place if you knew, that’s why I didn’t mention it in the first place. But I knew you’d love it once you saw it. The house was too good to pass up. I mean, look at it.”
“Yes, look at it.” Margot retorted wryly, waving her hand in the air.
“And as for this Andrew, listen, it’s a pretty simple process to get a restraining order. I’ve done it a dozen times. You slam that on his ass, and you can kiss your problems goodbye.”
“Zoey!”
Suddenly another knock came from the front door, and three heads wrenched toward it. Zoey strode over and whipped it open. “Listen, dickhead, you better have a good explanation for the horrible way you—”
“Sorry to interrupt,” an English voice soothed from the landing, spiking Emily’s heart rate until she quickly realized that it was that of her recently acquired landlord. “I was wondering if I might introduce the downstairs tenants to your friends? We were heading up for a tour of the conservatory. It’s just been finished, or let’s say, it’s safe enough to inhabit now. Or we could come back if this is a bad time.”
The sounds of people shuffling outside the door hit Emily full force. If The Lost Boys were going to be their downstairs neighbors, that meant only one thing: Andrew Hayes would be living, breathing, and…showering under her feet.
“How ya doing, Zoey girl?” another voice cried from the landing.
“Christian. This is kind of a bad time.”
“Excuse me.” Margot jammed her head through the entryway. “We’ll meet you upstairs in a few minutes, if that’s all right with you. Thank you.” Then she slammed the door shut in their shocked faces.
Now it was Zoey’s turn to appear stunned. “Why did you do that?”
“To keep both of you from losing what little you had left of your dignity. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Zoey, I could tolerate living in a complete dump, I could tolerate the leers from the workmen and possibly even the complete lack of indoor plumbing, but do you seriously understand what life is going to be like living over a band?”
“See? This is why I couldn’t tell you—you always see the negative in everything. And seriously, I don’t think it’s going to be that big of a deal,” Zoey argued. “They’ll be on the road most of the time, anyway. That’s what they do. They probably never live in one place long enough to buy furniture.”
“But they’re here now. How are we ever going to sleep with all that racket, study and grade papers, much less put up with whatever the hell they decide to drag home? You never think anything through. You lied to us to get what you wanted, and now I’ve just sunk all the rest of my money to pay to move all our furniture to this construction site with crazed, stoned, and drunk idiots partying all night under my feet.”
“So you haven’t met them and you’ve already decided exactly who they are, is that it? It must be great to be right about everyone all the time. Maybe you can give a seminar on that. So I lied, I’m sorry, but at least I put myself out
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