Junk M.A.L.E.

Chapter 2

“It’s not funny,” I groused, marginally pouting as Jackson, Grant, and Mickey, the other members of M.A.L.E., laughed themselves silly after listening to my report.

It had taken me three hours to drive back to the agency, and as it was almost five o’clock in the morning, I was ready to do a face-plant on the nearest flat surface. Actually, a wall would work, too. I’d gotten used to our odd work schedule. It was nowhere near a nine-to-five. Some days we worked twenty-four hours, sometimes, it was twelve. Night or day, we were always on shift, or at least on call.

“Oh, God, a curling iron?” Grant said, trying to catch his breath in between cackling.

“I interrupted his nightly routine,” I replied, resigned to their mockery as I leaned back in my chair at the conference room table, arms crossed on my chest. “The man was very meticulous about his look. Aside from being a despicable human being, he was actually really good at impersonating Ms. Cline.”

“I bet,” Mickey said, still snickering. “Did you get up close and personal with Patsy?”

I glared and said nothing.

“You need to see a chiropractor, Jer?” This came from Grant, who was still giggling like a pre-teen girl.

“Shut up, already. I got the job done. I’d like to see any one of you do better.”

“You did good, Jerry,” Jackson said, wiping his eyes now that he’d finished chortling. “Seriously, that was incredible, considering what you had to work with. None of us would have been able to pull off being a go-go boy. You’re the prettiest, after all.”

I sighed. “If you could keep a straight face while saying that, I’d believe you.” I ran a hand through my overlong black hair. “Do you think you guys could give me one of those assignments that didn’t involve dancing around a pole or being chased by a guard dog or something?” Yes, that had actually happened, and I was never more grateful for all those miles I ran four days a week to keep in shape.

“But you’re so good at them,” Grant said, and I rolled my eyes.

“Seriously, Jerry,” Mickey said, “I know it may seem like you get the weird stuff, but you’re the most creative one among us when it comes to thinking outside the box. We all have our strengths, and this one is yours.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I knew that, but it still felt like I was the butt of a really bad joke half the time. I stood and stretched. “I’m gonna go home and crash, but I’ll be back a little later. Don’t call me unless the agency blows up or something.”

Someone said, “Jerry, come on, you know we—”

I ignored them and left the room. I was tired, hungry, and I needed to get the gel out of my hair.

Still wearing the boy shorts but with a spare T-shirt thrown over it, I headed to the parking deck and hopped into my faithful truck, Jenny, named in honor of my late mother. I couldn’t wait for my vacation to start at the end of the day after I wrote up my report and did some paperwork.

The drive to my condo took a little over half an hour, and it was quiet on the city streets. When I parked in my assigned spot, I sighed with relief. At last I could decompress from a really shitty night. Naturally, after taking the stairs to the third floor and walking down the hallway, my yummy neighbor stepped outside his door and locked it.

Since the first time I’d seen him, I’d thought he was the hottest thing on the planet. It wasn’t that he was handsome or anything, but his face was interesting and the scar on his forehead told a story I’d definitely like to hear, if the guy would ever say something to me other than “hello.”

He was taller than me—easy to do since I was only five feet nine inches—and had sad gray eyes and dark blond hair long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail that hung past his shoulders. I wondered what it would look like down. He was huge, too, making me think of a giant, gentle teddy bear. We rarely crossed paths because of my erratic schedule, but it always made my day to lock eyes with him.

I pretended to stumble so I lightly bumped into him—oh, he was firm, wasn’t he?—and he immediately reached out his hands to steady me. Such strong, warm hands.

“Are you alright, man?” he asked in that rumbling deep bass of his. My tired body responded, despite its aches and pains.

“I’m fine, thanks for the assist,” I replied, secretly pleased he’d spoken four words to me. “Been a long night.” I remained where I was, slightly in his personal space and enjoying the scent of him. The man looked really good in his T-shirt and jeans.

“I see.” He looked me up and down, and I remembered my hot pants. The quirk of his lips into a smile was encouraging. “You moonlight as a dancer or something?” he asked, gesturing to my attire.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” came out of my i***t mouth and I regretted it immediately when I saw the wary expression on my neighbor’s face. Way to impress, Dumbass. “Ignore me. I say ridiculous stuff when I’m exhausted.”

He relaxed a bit and I breathed an internal sigh of relief.

“Say, we’ve seen each other from time to time but have never officially met.” I held out my hand. “Jerry Sanger.”

His huge paw engulfed mine and I could tell he was deliberately trying not to crush my fingers. What would it be like to feel all that strength unleashed and focused entirely on me? Before my thoughts could get too dirty, he said, “Horace Guffey. Most people call me Guff.” The man of my dreams finally had a name.

We shook hands and I let his hand go, though I was loath to do so. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Guff.”

“Same here.” He stepped back, and already I missed the heat of his presence. “Well, I’m off to work. See you around.” He lifted a hand in a wave and headed for the stairwell. The view from the back was even better than from the front, with his firm ass just begging for my hand to slap it.

“Bye,” I called out and waited until the door closed before heading to my own apartment.

First things first: remove boy shorts and burn them. Next: apply Vaseline to tender areas. Last: snuggle in bed and have sweet dreams about my teddy bear Guff tonight. This morning. Whatever.