Monday afternoon, Matt posted a flyer in the gym’s employee break room announcing their dinner party; by Friday morning, five people had called to RSVP, and Matt said three more were tentatively planning to attend. Saturday when Vic picked up Mrs. K’s car on his telepathic radar, he shrugged into a light hooded jacket to cover his undershirt and headed downstairs to help her with her groceries. His mind buzzed with various ways he might mention the party to her without making it sound like some wild all-night fling. There would be alcohol, yes, but nothing more than wine with dinner and a beer or two afterward. Low music, if any. Food, of course, and laughing, talking…nothing loud, he’d assure her. Nothing disruptive.
Though he knew the guy below them would beg to differ.
Vic glanced at
