Suds and Sam For Hire Read online

  I squirm, my nub growing hard as he sucks and plays and….

  “Meowwwww…”

  “Huh?” I check the time and moan. What the fuck? I’ve only been asleep maybe an hour or so.

  Claws scratch at my door. “Meow?”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake.” I open it, the cat jumps onto my pillow, and eyes me, reminding me of Frankie-the-hitman.

  “Fine.” I crawl back into bed. “You better not be a pain in the ass or it’s the bathroom for you.”

  Ignoring my threats, Chloe turns twice counterclockwise, once clockwise, and purring, settles on my comforter in a small round ball.

  When I jump in beside her, she kneads my scalp until my hair is mussed to her satisfaction, then falls fast asleep.

  It takes me a while to join her but the sweet dream is gone. Instead, I chase after a lost yellow tabby all night long while Frankie targets me in his crosshairs.

  Chapter 3

  Suds

  Hanging up with Sam, I walk Tiera back to the rented A-frame.

  “I need to rest. After, I want to go out.” Tiera turns her head toward her personal assistant but speaks loud enough for me to hear. “And make sure to tweet where I’ll be, and Instagram, and Facebook. I want the place filled with fans, understand?”

  “Don’t worry, I got this.” Jennifer, a pretty redhead about twenty, rolls her eyes when the actress isn’t looking, takes out her phone, and thumbs madly while walking. Her gloves, which stop at the knuckles, leave her fingertips exposed to the cold.

  In front of the small, yet exclusive cabin, Tiera eyes me up and down. “I need a massage.”

  “Have Jen order you one.” I unlock the door and walk them both inside but the diva sticks out her lower lip and grabs at my crotch.

  “I want you to do it.”

  Maybe last year I might’ve taken what she’s offering but I’m a different man. “Not part of my job description, darlin’.”

  “I’ll have my PA tweet how my bodyguard tried to rape me.”

  Jenny’s mouth drops open. “Tiera. Don’t get-”

  “It’s okay. Give us a moment, Jen.” I pat the redhead’s hand, grab Tiera’s upper arm, and place her in a kitchen chair.

  Then, I lean over and get in her face so she understands who it is she’s dealing with. “Listen up, little girl. I am your bodyguard, not your fucking boy-toy. I’m not interested. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You’ll be sorry. I’m going to call my agent and-”

  “You will do nothing of the kind. If you make any allegations I will counter-sue for sexual harassment and baby, I will win. I got everything you’ve ever said recorded on my phone app. Understand?”

  Her face turns red. “You’re f-f-fired.”

  “Fine. Good luck with the paparazzi tonight.” I grab my coat, turn, and think about how in less than a few hours I can be back in my baby’s loving arms.

  “Wait! Don’t go.”

  “Nuh-uh. I’m out of here.”

  “I’ll double your salary. No. Triple it. Please.”

  I think of all the ways Suds and Sam Detective Agency could use the money and nod. “No more stupidness, y’hear?”

  “I said I’m sorry, Christ. What else you want? You’re a terrible lay anyhow.” She huffs out of the kitchen and I grin thinking I done pretty good.

  Even so, I email my boss a brief recap and include an audio file of our argument. It’s best he know what she’s up to just in case it turns ugly.

  Hell hath no fury….

  While the princess and her assistant doll up, I check social media for any signs of crazies, before texting Sam.

  Me: What y’all doin’ tonight?

  Sam: Chloe is here, we’re sharing a beer.

  Me: The cat-napping cat?

  Sam: I am a trusted sitter.

  Me: Don’t think cats should drink.

  Sam: Tell her. She opened it.

  Me: AA?

  Sam: Demon. Need exorcist

  Me: Call Father O

  Sam: I did but he said no go.

  Me: When does Frankie come back?

  Sam: He didn’t say. I didn’t ask.

  Me: Probably better.

  Sam: You think?

  Me: Don’t let it die.

  Sam: Right?

  Me: Miss you

  Sam: Miss you too. Oh F

  Me:

  Sam: Gotta go. F-ing cat. Luv you

  Me: Luv you 2.

  Chuckling, I step into the shower. While I do, my thoughts turn to Sam. It sure will be nice to have our business up and running so I can stay put and fuck her whenever I want. Christmas break spoiled me something fierce.

  My cock doesn’t understand he needs to stand down. Warm water covers me as I remember my last bedtime with Sam. Her smart mouth had stopped talking because it was busy sucking me off.

  With a sudsy hand, no pun intended, I wrap my fingers around my need. I slide up and down, picturing Sam. Her dirty-blond locks soaked, she’d glanced up as her tongue explored the ledge around my tip and down my center vein.

  She’d cupped my balls, squeezed the back of my thighs…

  My hand slides faster and I put my forehead to the tiles. My back tightens, my inner spring coils, and with thoughts of entering her sweet valley, I get myself off.

  Damn, I miss her.

  If she were here, I’d kiss her, lap her into an orgasm or two, and do it all again.

  Finished with my shower, I dry off with a thick towel, dress, and check my gun. Tiera hasn’t had any serious threats but it only takes one nutcase.

  “Are y’all ready to go?”

  “No!” Both ladies shout back so I set myself down and call Slate.

  “Suds. What’s up?” He sounds surprised to hear me and I understand. I don’t usually phone him unless something’s off.

  “Nothing. I just wondered if you would do me a solid.”

  “Name it.”

  “Keep Sam out of trouble while I’m in Utah.”

  He chuckles. “I gave her a brain teaser. It should keep her occupied.”

  “Yeah, what was it?” I ease back into the leather lounge chair, warmed by the crackling fireplace.

  “Our lawyer has a case and is asking we investigate. Remember how a car jumped a curb on Broadway last fall? Three people injured?”

  “Maybe. Was it the accident where an old woman had heart failure? She died with her foot on the gas pedal?”

  “Yes, but there’s more to it than meets the eye.”

  “Huh.” I grin. “Will it take Sam weeks to figure it out?”

  “I believe so. It’s a long shot she’ll find anything at all. However, the three who were injured want to sue someone. They got medical bills, pain and suffering… the works.”

  “Great news. Not about the suffering… I just want Samantha occupied.”

  “I got your email. You okay sticking it out with Tiera?”

  “Fuck, yeah.” I take my voice lower. “She’s a spoiled brat. I needed to give you a heads up in case she tries to pull some shit because I won’t sleep with her.”

  Slate laughs under his breath. “Wasn’t it only last year you were more accommodating?”

  “I know, I know. Dammit. I was an idiot. What me and Sam got going on? It’s like, hell, like nothing I ever felt before. I would never mess that up.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her, and did you hear? Lucky’s in town.”

  “No shit. Tell him I say hi and sorry I missed him.”

  After we hang up, it’s too late to do anything about the electric for our new office. However, I make a mental note to take care of it first thing in the morning. I do cancel my appointment with my shrink, research the mobster Vincent set Sam up with, and then it’s time to go to work.

  It’s close to two in the morning before I drop onto my pillow and judging from the amount of alcohol Tiera swallowed, I’ll no doubt sleep in.

  When the familiar gun battle starts, my first thought is to join the
fight. I run toward the rat-a-tat of a rapid-fire rifle and get this niggling feeling. Something is not right.

  Lucky shouts out from behind our SUV. “Down!”

  I drop and he fires over my head in almost the same instant. On my belly, I turn and fire back. Joey’s kid cries and Samantha is there and I’m back in Bensonhurst in our new office space.

  “Get down, dammit.” I cover her body with mine.

  This is not fucking real. It can’t be.

  “This is not fucking real!” I shout it out at Lucky’s surprised face.

  “Not fucking real!” Brooklyn fades away.

  “I don’t need to live through this. I already did.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Heart racing, I wake, pick up my paperback, and read until the adrenaline in my system wears itself out.

  The book my shrink gave me on lucid dreaming says I need to acknowledge my feelings. Okay, I can do that. I was scared out of my gourd but not for me, for the people I care about.

  Huh… I guess this mumbo-jumbo psychology shit might work.

  Who knew?

  Chapter 4

  Sam

  “Meow?”

  Chloe scratches at the door, I check the clock, put my pillow over my head, and groan. “Too early.”

  “Meow, meow, meow, meow…”

  “Oh for Christ…mas sake. I’m awake.” I try not to think about the ungodly hour as I stumble out of bed and measure out wet, fishy canned food.

  When the tabby purrs around my leg, I figure maybe we’ve turned the corner in our tumultuous relationship. However, while I’m taking a shower, a huge crash sounds from the kitchen and when I rush out, my computer is upside down on the floor.

  “Dammit cat!”

  Chloe runs under the couch and hisses while Mia comes out her bedroom door. “Poor kitty, did my meany cousin yell at you again?”

  She kneels and schmoozes Catzilla while I check my Dell. Lucky for her, nothing is broken or she’d be cat-soup.

  Rose moans with slits for eyes and joins us in the kitchen. “You DO know what time it is.”

  “Tell it to Catastrophe.” I point out the guilty party.

  “What did she do now?” My older cousin eyes the yellow tabby while I sign in to my computer, praying nothing got damaged.

  “Do? She pushed my computer off the table, for no reason whatsoever.”

  Chloe grins at me from my younger cousin’s lap while the eldest moans and opens the bathroom door. “You two need to learn to get along. Try not to kill each other while I take a shower.”

  “Me? I didn’t do anything. That animal is possessed, I swear.”

  Saint Mia covers Chloe’s ears and kisses her on the nose. “Don’t listen to her, baby. She’s out of sorts because her muscle man is out of town.”

  True, but it doesn’t change the fact the beast tried to break my only means of support.

  Mia opens the cupboard, pulls out her corn flakes, and grabs a quart of milk from the fridge. “In the future, don’t leave your laptop on the table.”

  “Why me? She’s the troublemaker.”

  The feline jumps to the floor, purring around my ankles but I’m not taken in by her ploy.

  Instead, I point two fingers at green gleaming eyes. “I don’t care if Frankie is your dad. You mess with my computer again and I’m locking you in the bathroom and feeding you bread and water until he gets back.”

  Laughing, Mia says grace before shoveling cold cereal into her mouth. With Suds gone, I don’t feel much like eating. After making a huge pot of coffee, I get dressed, then we all depart for my aunt’s hair salon.

  I wander to the back where I wash hair for tips. It’s pot-luck-Wednesday at the senior center and our regulars come in like clockwork.

  Mrs. Gallo is the first in the door. She waves at Aunt Marion, says hi to my cousins, and plops down at my station. “Well, hello Sam. I didn’t think to see you here.”

  I wrap a towel around her neck and ease the back of her chair down until her blue hair hits the sink.

  Thin, well-tweezed brows raise. “Did you hear the serial killer struck again?”

  “No. I was kind of busy this morning…” I picture Catenstein wondering if she figured out how to open the fridge and eat my leftover pizza.

  While I adjust the water temperature, Mrs. Gallo continues. “It happened right near the Pop-tart place.”

  “On Broadway, by the Disney store?”

  “I think so, dear. Thank God we live in a safe neighborhood.” She sighs as I scrub her scalp and ponder how a killer could be at large when the city is covered by cameras.

  If I was working for the FBI, he’d be in custody by now. I was that good at my job. I wonder why my replacements in Ireland can’t figure it out.

  Sighing, I rinse out shampoo and pump conditioner into my hand before adding it to Mrs. Gallo’s hair.

  “How is your new detective agency, sweetie? I saw your sign. S and S. What does it stand for? Sneaky and Secretive?”

  “Yes.” My eyes roll as I make a mental note to change the painting on the window ASAP.

  “Oh, that’s nice. Do you have any customers yet? I know Mrs. Nardo’s husband is cheating on her. I could recommend you to her.”

  “No need. I have a couple cases, but if it gets dry, I’ll let you know. Thanks, though.” I’m certain my new client doesn’t want everyone knowing she’s taking her husband to court. Clearing my throat, I finish rinsing and put a towel around her shoulder.

  Before I can move her to Rose’s chair, her cold bony hand clamps mine. “I also heard you’re going out with Jimmy Daskelis. He’s Mr. Rizzo’s nephew and rolling in dough, the way I hear it. Make sure he takes you someplace nice.”

  “I’ll do that.” As I lead her away, I sigh at Uncle Vincent’s choice in men. Most of my blind dates have never done an honest day’s work. Dishonest? Well, that’s another story.

  Finished with Mrs. Gallo, Mrs. Murphy, the bakery owner, sits down next. “God bless you for finding our missing Jesus. I heard you went to Rome? Did you see the pope?”

  “Uh-huh. I spoke with him at length but I’m not supposed to talk about it. He’s funny when it comes to miracles.”

  Rose, setting curlers across the room, snickers at my bullshit but Mia pipes up, eyes wide. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Sorry. It was hush-hush. Besides, Suds and Sam didn’t actually find the statue, Uncle Vinny did.”

  “Don’t be so modest.” Rose pipes in. “Suds and Sam Detective agency is famous.”

  “Not enough for Con Ed to hook up my electric.”

  While I glance down at my phone, Mrs. Gallo adds her two cents. “My cousin Gina said it took her almost a year to get her condo hooked up.”

  Sighing, I try to think positively as I picture fresh paint on our office walls. During a break, I share a three inch stack of cards on a metal ring.

  “Do these look any different to you?” I spread them wide and show them to everyone in the salon.

  “Trust me.” My aunt pats my hand. “On the wall, it’s like night and day.”

  I thumb through them, unable to discern any difference at all. “What about this one?”

  “Oh God, no. It’s the same color as Rollie’s funeral parlor.” Mrs. Gallo pokes her head out of the hairdryer.

  “Huh.” I try another. “This one?”

  Mrs. Murphy crosses herself. “The rectory and the morgue.”

  “For heaven’s sake. Can someone help me out please?”

  “Just pick one you like, dear. What’s the problem?” My aunt goes back to her crossword puzzle while Rose chuckles.

  Muttering shit not fit for old ladies in a hair parlor, I walk back to my sink and text Suds.

  Me: Kill me now.

  Suds:??

  Me: White paint. Choosing. Nightmare

  Suds: Try Colonial

  I call out to no one in particular and hold up the card. “What about this one? Colonial White?”

  When the ladi
es all cluck their approval, I sigh at the momentous decision having been made and text Suds.

  Me: OMG. TY

  Suds: sends me a thumbs up.

  Tragedy averted, I finish up my salon day, and hope to God, Chloe didn’t find Joey’s cigars, eat them, and die.

  On my way home, Slate pings my phone.

  Slate: Want some work?

  Me: YES! Please. Anything.

  Slate: See you after lunch.

  Back in the apartment, my furry fiend raises her head from where she sleeps on the couch and blinks her green eyes innocently but I’m not buying it. In front of her, Mia’s statue of the Virgin Mary lies on the floor, decapitated.

  “Bad Kitty.” I grab some super glue, piece the ceramics together, and say a couple Hail Mary’s, just in case.

  Pointing the red plastic cap at her, I raise my voice. “Don’t mess with Mary or you’ll go straight to hell.”

  The tabby yawns wide, shows her teeth, puts her chin on her paws, and goes back to sleep.

  Not wanting the mother of God to strike her dead, I shut Frankie’s pet in the bathroom, add a small pool of drinking water in the tub and a put her kitty blanket on the floor.

  “Believe me, this is for your own good.” Maybe a little time in solitary will change her cattitude.

  While Chloe meows her annoyance, I put on two layers of clothing. I top that off with wool coat, scarf and hat. Twenty pounds heavier, I trudge to the ‘D’ train which arrives after a forty minute wait.

  Taking a seat, I bite the top of my mittens to free my fingertips and pull my cellphone from my purse.

  Me: Going into the city. Slate got me work

  Suds: Thumbs-up emoji

  Me: Busy?

  Suds: Skiing. Can’t chat now.

  I remind myself I am not the jealous type, download an e-book about cat psychiatry and settle down for the ride.

  When the train nears my stop uptown, I stand, hold onto the metal post, and brace. The subway doors slide open and I exit into the damp, dark tunnel. Three flights up, I squint at the sunshine, inhale pretzel mixed with manhole steam and duck my chin into my thick scarf. Then, I half-walk, half-jog to Patten Security’s office.