About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(17)

His lip twitched. “She’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t need my help with anything. Says she’s an adult and lived without help for almost five years. In other words, she’s a total brat.”

I chuckled and lobbed the ball. “All the better for you then.”

His face turned somber. “I worry about her. I don’t like her being on her own. Not when she’s got Mom and me.” He held the ball a moment. “You know, she always was this fragile thing. She needed me and I helped her where I could. She didn’t have a lot of friends. She’d get freaked out around guys, and now that she’s finally come out of that shell, I don’t know. I sort of miss being needed.”

I caught the ball and uttered, “She knows you’re there. She’ll come to you when she needs help. Let the little bird fly.” Then I thought about cute, chubby Minnie and added hastily, “But not too far.”

Harry grinned and I returned it, knowing he’d been thinking the very same thing.



I said goodbye to Harry around one p.m. He told me to keep Monday night free. He was hosting a poker night, which almost always turned into go-fish night. I told him I’d be there.

Running sounded like a good idea. I didn’t have much time before that afternoon’s client, but had so much energy that if I didn’t burn the excess, I was likely to f*ck my client through the floor. Not that I thought she would mind.

I ran from dock to dock, then turned around and went home. I was sweaty, hot, and bothered, but I was hoping my night with Belinda would be somewhat better than my night with Gina. In other words, I was hoping my cock would cooperate and actually come to the party. I was sure I would. Belinda was gorgeous and shy as a mouse.

It was always the shy ones you had to look out for. Once you got past the shyness, they were usually wild in the sack, as in nail-marks-and-blood-streaks-down-the-back wild.

On my way into the building, I heard a shaky, fragile voice call out, “M-Matthew! Oh, M-Matthew!”

I paused mid-jog and tracked down the source of the sound. When I saw her face, I broke out into a smile. “Hello, Mrs. Henderson. What can I do for you?”

The older woman’s hands and head shook almost violently. Her caregiver, Jenny, had told me she suffered from Parkinson’s disease, and even with her medication, the shakes would no longer stop, but it highly improved her speech. It made me wonder how she looked if she didn’t take her medication. The mental image was heartbreaking.

She attempted to smile, but it came across pained. “M-m-m-my faucet i-i-is leaking. W-w-would you mind?”

Jenny appeared behind Mrs. Henderson. “Hey, Matt. The doggone faucet is dripping again.” She blew the fallen strands of hair off her face and fluttered her lashes pleadingly. “You got a few minutes?”

I checked my watch and knew I didn’t have a lot of time to spare. But Mrs. Henderson was a nice lady and I hated to refuse her. “Sure. I got some time. Be back in a minute; I just gotta grab my tools.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, I flung open my apartment, snatched up my tools from the spare bedroom, and jogged back down the steps to Mrs. Henderson’s apartment.

Jenny was holding the door open for me, smiling. “Running around like you are is telling me you don’t have as much time as you claim.” I winked at her as I entered and she shook her head. “There’s no rush, Matt. You could’ve done this tomorrow. She wouldn’t have minded.”

Jenny was a tall, athletic, twenty-something who always wore ripped jeans and a tee. She had striking green eyes, long black-dyed hair, and a pierced septum. She was quite attractive. She was also very much a lesbian. I knew this, because leaving the building one night, I caught her making out with her girlfriend while being dropped off at Mrs. Henderson’s. If I hadn’t been in such a rush, I would’ve stopped and watched the entire show. It looked as though it was about to get hot and heavy.

“Why do tomorrow what I can do today, Jenny?”

She muttered, “Suck-ass,” and led me through to the leak. I grinned to myself in triumph.

She sat on the edge of the tub to watch me work. “Got a hot date tonight or something?”

“Or something,” I conceded then added teasingly, “but you know I only have eyes for you, Jen.”

She snorted a laugh. “You got the wrong equipment for me, lover.”

I shook my head dismally. “I know. That’s why I booked in for that procedure later this year. Then you can call me Matilda and we’ll live happily ever after.”

She opened her mouth to respond with a no doubt a saucy remark, when the sound of glass shattering followed by Mrs. Henderson’s, “Oh, dear,” followed. Jenny ran out of the bathroom.

I called out, “Everything okay?”

Jenny responded an amused, “Yep. Just a glass of juice Mrs. H thought looked better on the floor.”

Mrs. Henderson tried to sound affronted, but I could hear the smile in her voice. “Oh, J-Jenny. You’re t-terrible.”

I smiled at their continued banter and fixed the faucet. As I left, I looked down at my watch and breathed easy. I still had time to spare.



Belinda was a single mother from out of town. She was shy and sweet with a rocking body, a short, dark business-do, and soft brown eyes. She booked every three months. She had a daughter, Lillian, whom she’d given birth to young and somehow found the time to complete her degree and get a more than decent job in a Fortune 500 company. She travelled for work, which made it easy for her to make it to her quarterly appointment without detection.