I do. And I love y’all too, knucklebrain.”
Chapter 8
Jules Vernon glanced out the window and spotted the pretty Asian woman he had been expecting. While she pulled up to the curb in the moving van, he hopped up onto the ledge of his giant fish tank and watched the water sluice off his tail. As soon as his lower body shifted back to legs, he jumped down, grabbed the towel on the shelf beside him, dried off, and put on his robe.
Watching her out the window again, he was happy to see Lillian Chou helping the movers carry some of her things upstairs to her new apartment. Good. She wasn’t lazy. Perhaps she wouldn’t be high maintenance and could fix a leaky faucet herself.
He strode to the bedroom to get dressed so he could greet her and fill her in on some of the finer points of living in their neighborhood.
So far, Jules had been lucky. Nothing in the old building had broken, and no one had needed much of anything. But to get the job as the building’s super, he’d had to pretend to be handy. God forbid something really went wrong.
She had received her keys from him when she’d seen the place and given him the security deposit and first month’s rent in lovely, spendable cash. How was he supposed to check references with a thick wad of crisp Benjamins in front of him? Besides, she looked nice enough. Who needed a background check when the babe had a great backside?
Jules zipped up his blue jeans and threw on a dark green T-shirt that brought out the color of his green eyes. Women often commented on his eyes.
A quick look in the mirror, a fluff of his black hair, and he was ready to greet his new tenant. Almost… he grabbed the air freshener to mask the fishy smell in his apartment and sprayed it all around like a cloud of perfume. Just for good measure, he walked through it and scented himself with April freshness.
When he opened his door to the hallway, he had to wait for the movers to struggle by with her heavy wrought-iron bed. It reminded him of some of the balcony railings in New Orleans. Ornate scrolls imparted a feminine vibe. He fantasized himself handcuffed to those iron rails and almost chuckled. He was such a naughty fish.
Lillian, or Lily, as she had told him to call her, was hauling a suitcase up the stairs, so Jules trotted down to meet her and take it up the rest of the way.
“Hello, Lily. Welcome.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Jules,” she said when he grasped the heavy bag. “I am paying the movers by the hour, so I save money by helping.”
She had a hint of an Asian accent, but her English was quite good. She said she had lived in San Francisco for several years before moving to Boston.
“So, it’s just you and the movers? No friends or family signed up to help today?”
“No. My family is all in San Francisco. I’m so new to this city I have no friends and only one or two potential clients, so I had to hire help.”
“Listen, I may have forgotten to tell you something important when you came to look at the place. Our landlord is a recognizable celebrity and doesn’t want his whereabouts known.”
“A celebrity? Who is he? A rock star?”
“No, bigger than that—at least in Boston. It’s Jason Falco.”
“Who’s that?”
Jules’s eyebrows shot up. “Only the star pitcher of the Boston Bullets.”
“…and my son-in-law,” Sly added as he ascended the stairs silently.
Jules startled. “Where did you come from?”
“More importantly,” Sly said, “where did she come from?”
Lily flushed bright red. Jules thought he saw a wisp of steam waft from her ears.
“This is our new tenant, Lillian Chou. She goes by Lily. And, Lily, this is Sly.”
Eventually, Lily recovered enough to nod in acknowledgment and asked, “So, Mr. Falco lives in the building?”
“Yes, in the penthouse. You might not see him very often,” Sly said.
Jules shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He rides the elevator to the first floor and exits out the back usually. But if a
Chapter 8
Jules Vernon glanced out the window and spotted the pretty Asian woman he had been expecting. While she pulled up to the curb in the moving van, he hopped up onto the ledge of his giant fish tank and watched the water sluice off his tail. As soon as his lower body shifted back to legs, he jumped down, grabbed the towel on the shelf beside him, dried off, and put on his robe.
Watching her out the window again, he was happy to see Lillian Chou helping the movers carry some of her things upstairs to her new apartment. Good. She wasn’t lazy. Perhaps she wouldn’t be high maintenance and could fix a leaky faucet herself.
He strode to the bedroom to get dressed so he could greet her and fill her in on some of the finer points of living in their neighborhood.
So far, Jules had been lucky. Nothing in the old building had broken, and no one had needed much of anything. But to get the job as the building’s super, he’d had to pretend to be handy. God forbid something really went wrong.
She had received her keys from him when she’d seen the place and given him the security deposit and first month’s rent in lovely, spendable cash. How was he supposed to check references with a thick wad of crisp Benjamins in front of him? Besides, she looked nice enough. Who needed a background check when the babe had a great backside?
Jules zipped up his blue jeans and threw on a dark green T-shirt that brought out the color of his green eyes. Women often commented on his eyes.
A quick look in the mirror, a fluff of his black hair, and he was ready to greet his new tenant. Almost… he grabbed the air freshener to mask the fishy smell in his apartment and sprayed it all around like a cloud of perfume. Just for good measure, he walked through it and scented himself with April freshness.
When he opened his door to the hallway, he had to wait for the movers to struggle by with her heavy wrought-iron bed. It reminded him of some of the balcony railings in New Orleans. Ornate scrolls imparted a feminine vibe. He fantasized himself handcuffed to those iron rails and almost chuckled. He was such a naughty fish.
Lillian, or Lily, as she had told him to call her, was hauling a suitcase up the stairs, so Jules trotted down to meet her and take it up the rest of the way.
“Hello, Lily. Welcome.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Jules,” she said when he grasped the heavy bag. “I am paying the movers by the hour, so I save money by helping.”
She had a hint of an Asian accent, but her English was quite good. She said she had lived in San Francisco for several years before moving to Boston.
“So, it’s just you and the movers? No friends or family signed up to help today?”
“No. My family is all in San Francisco. I’m so new to this city I have no friends and only one or two potential clients, so I had to hire help.”
“Listen, I may have forgotten to tell you something important when you came to look at the place. Our landlord is a recognizable celebrity and doesn’t want his whereabouts known.”
“A celebrity? Who is he? A rock star?”
“No, bigger than that—at least in Boston. It’s Jason Falco.”
“Who’s that?”
Jules’s eyebrows shot up. “Only the star pitcher of the Boston Bullets.”
“…and my son-in-law,” Sly added as he ascended the stairs silently.
Jules startled. “Where did you come from?”
“More importantly,” Sly said, “where did she come from?”
Lily flushed bright red. Jules thought he saw a wisp of steam waft from her ears.
“This is our new tenant, Lillian Chou. She goes by Lily. And, Lily, this is Sly.”
Eventually, Lily recovered enough to nod in acknowledgment and asked, “So, Mr. Falco lives in the building?”
“Yes, in the penthouse. You might not see him very often,” Sly said.
Jules shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He rides the elevator to the first floor and exits out the back usually. But if a
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