15
Brooke
“What the heck?” Addy half yelled. “You waited a year to tell me this? No, no, more than a year. Are you crazy? That sick freak should be in jail getting his ass stretched every time he bends over to pick up the damn soap. And you say you don’t know who he is? What about fingerprints? There might have been fingerprints! Wow. I can’t believe this. I’m sending virtual hugs. No, no, I’m coming over.”
“Addy, it’s seven o’clock on Sunday evening. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”
“Who cares? You’re more important than emails, and my new boss is a jerk anyway. I’ll be there in, like, an hour.”
“Honestly, there’s no need—”
But it was too late. Addy had hung up, and I slumped back onto the Buick bench seat Luca had dragged in front of the TV.
“That didn’t go well, I take it?” he said
