me?”
Anatoly sighed and shook his head. “I wasn’t invited, and you really should spend your time and energy on the guest of honor. I think it’s best if I don’t come.”
Well, it looked like I wasn’t going to get to come either. “Will you at least give me a ride?”
Anatoly draped an arm over my shoulders. “Your chariot awaits.”
CHAPTER 7
“‘I equate days to music,’ she explained. ‘Some play out like Pachelbel’s Canon performed by the New York Symphony Orchestra. Others are more like a badly composed Beatles medley that you’re forced to listen to while on hold for the dentist.’”
— Sex, Drugs and Murder
T he party itself was fun if not particularly memorable. I signed a few books and managed to enjoy myself, although I made a point of telling Marcus what I had sacrificed to be there. He showed his appreciation by cutting me an extra-large piece of chocolate cake that he personally dosed with brandy.
When the festivities were over he gave me a ride home and idled the car in front of my apartment. He turned the music down so we could hear ourselves talk over the Material Girl. “Thanks so much for coming, Soph. It just made Steve’s night.”
I nodded. “He’s a nice guy. He told me that when things get bad he escapes into one of my books. Considering what he’s escaping I think that may be the greatest compliment of my life.”
“Yeah.” Marcus pulled gently on one of his locks. “That boy has gotten damn skinny. The reason we wrapped things up at nine is that he tires out so fast. He did seem to be having fun, though, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he was having fun.” I covered Marcus’s hand with my own. “The party was perfect. You did good.”
Marcus smiled slightly and looked into the darkness.
I nudged him gently in the ribs. “Speaking of doing good, I didn’t expect to see Donato there tonight.”
Marcus’s smile became more animated. “Mmm-hmm, Donato and I are a thang. He’s fun, he’s romantic, and damn girl, you should see him when he starts working those hips—and I am not talking about dancing, okay.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. He’s kind of eccentric, isn’t he?”
“Greek gods often are.” I could see his eyes twinkle, despite the poor lighting. “He’s meeting me at my place in an hour for a private worship session.”
“Private worship session, huh? Well, far be it for me to keep you from your religious duties.” I kissed him on the cheek and gathered up my purse and coat. “Do you have time to give me a deep condition and trim on Tuesday?”
“Honey, for you I’ll make the time. Call the salon, they’ll pencil you in.”
“It’s a date, then.” I popped out of the car and watched as Marcus drove off.
“Hi, Sophie.”
I turned to see Andy smiling down at me. “Hey, Andy, what are you doing here?”
He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I just helped Mrs. Murphy carry some groceries home.”
I noted the time. Nine-thirty, a bit late for a little old lady to be grocery shopping. Of course, for all I knew Mrs. Murphy could be some young socialite afraid of breaking a nail.
“Was that guy your boyfriend?”
“Hmm? Oh, Marcus? I wish. No, he’s just a friend. I don’t have a boyfriend.” As soon as I said it I realized my mistake. Andy was about to ask me out, and I had just ruined what would have been a perfectly good excuse to say no.
“Well, Andy, it was good to see you. I’ve got to get upstairs—my cat’s probably really hungry by now.” Where were my keys? I felt them at the bottom of my purse. Great, now if I could just get inside quickly enough…
“Would you like to go out with me sometime?”
Shit.
“I could take you somewhere really nice. I’ve been saving money from my paychecks.”
I looked at my keys hanging in the unopened lock. “Listen, Andy, I’m really flattered but—”
“But you don’t want to go out with a retard.”
“God, no! You’re not a retard.” Was he
Anatoly sighed and shook his head. “I wasn’t invited, and you really should spend your time and energy on the guest of honor. I think it’s best if I don’t come.”
Well, it looked like I wasn’t going to get to come either. “Will you at least give me a ride?”
Anatoly draped an arm over my shoulders. “Your chariot awaits.”
CHAPTER 7
“‘I equate days to music,’ she explained. ‘Some play out like Pachelbel’s Canon performed by the New York Symphony Orchestra. Others are more like a badly composed Beatles medley that you’re forced to listen to while on hold for the dentist.’”
— Sex, Drugs and Murder
T he party itself was fun if not particularly memorable. I signed a few books and managed to enjoy myself, although I made a point of telling Marcus what I had sacrificed to be there. He showed his appreciation by cutting me an extra-large piece of chocolate cake that he personally dosed with brandy.
When the festivities were over he gave me a ride home and idled the car in front of my apartment. He turned the music down so we could hear ourselves talk over the Material Girl. “Thanks so much for coming, Soph. It just made Steve’s night.”
I nodded. “He’s a nice guy. He told me that when things get bad he escapes into one of my books. Considering what he’s escaping I think that may be the greatest compliment of my life.”
“Yeah.” Marcus pulled gently on one of his locks. “That boy has gotten damn skinny. The reason we wrapped things up at nine is that he tires out so fast. He did seem to be having fun, though, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he was having fun.” I covered Marcus’s hand with my own. “The party was perfect. You did good.”
Marcus smiled slightly and looked into the darkness.
I nudged him gently in the ribs. “Speaking of doing good, I didn’t expect to see Donato there tonight.”
Marcus’s smile became more animated. “Mmm-hmm, Donato and I are a thang. He’s fun, he’s romantic, and damn girl, you should see him when he starts working those hips—and I am not talking about dancing, okay.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. He’s kind of eccentric, isn’t he?”
“Greek gods often are.” I could see his eyes twinkle, despite the poor lighting. “He’s meeting me at my place in an hour for a private worship session.”
“Private worship session, huh? Well, far be it for me to keep you from your religious duties.” I kissed him on the cheek and gathered up my purse and coat. “Do you have time to give me a deep condition and trim on Tuesday?”
“Honey, for you I’ll make the time. Call the salon, they’ll pencil you in.”
“It’s a date, then.” I popped out of the car and watched as Marcus drove off.
“Hi, Sophie.”
I turned to see Andy smiling down at me. “Hey, Andy, what are you doing here?”
He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I just helped Mrs. Murphy carry some groceries home.”
I noted the time. Nine-thirty, a bit late for a little old lady to be grocery shopping. Of course, for all I knew Mrs. Murphy could be some young socialite afraid of breaking a nail.
“Was that guy your boyfriend?”
“Hmm? Oh, Marcus? I wish. No, he’s just a friend. I don’t have a boyfriend.” As soon as I said it I realized my mistake. Andy was about to ask me out, and I had just ruined what would have been a perfectly good excuse to say no.
“Well, Andy, it was good to see you. I’ve got to get upstairs—my cat’s probably really hungry by now.” Where were my keys? I felt them at the bottom of my purse. Great, now if I could just get inside quickly enough…
“Would you like to go out with me sometime?”
Shit.
“I could take you somewhere really nice. I’ve been saving money from my paychecks.”
I looked at my keys hanging in the unopened lock. “Listen, Andy, I’m really flattered but—”
“But you don’t want to go out with a retard.”
“God, no! You’re not a retard.” Was he
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