I had not, incidentally, shared my love for Detective Mitch Lawson with LaTanya, Derek, Brent, Bradon or anyone. This was because I thought they’d think I was a little insane (or a stalker). They often invited him to parties and such, and if he came, I would usually make my excuses and leave. They’d never cottoned on. I figured mostly because he didn’t often attend their parties due to his being a police officer with long hours, but also because he had his buds over for games and his babes over for other things. He wasn’t the type of man who went to gay men’s parties or LaTanya’s cocktail extravaganzas. The ones he went to I suspected he did just to be neighborly. Though Derek, more often than not, went to his place to watch games. Usually in order to escape LaTanya’s cocktail extravaganzas, which were frequent occasions.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied to her. “Just had a tough day at work,” I continued lying. “And I’m not happy the management office didn’t call me back. They don’t pay my water bill.” I wasn’t lying about that.

“I hear you,” LaTanya agreed. “Service around here has taken a turn for the worse even though they upped our rent three months ago. You remember our fridge went out last month?”

I remembered. I also remembered it took three weeks to get it replaced. Derek had been none too happy, and LaTanya had been loudly none too happy.

“Yeah, I remember. That sucked.”

“It sure did. Buyin’ ice all the time and livin’ outta coolers. I don’t pay rent for that shit. Fuck that.”

Fuck that indeed.

Detective Mitch Lawson’s door opened, and I realized my mistake instantly. I should have run to my house and done something. I didn’t know what. Nothing needed tidying because I was freakishly tidy. There was nothing I could do with my appearance, but I figured I should have tried to do something.

He started walking our way asking, “Now a good time?”

No, no time was a good time for the Ten Point Five I was secretly in love with to be in my apartment.

I nodded and said, “Sure.” Then I looked at LaTanya and said, “Later, babe.”

“Later. Remember, a mojito is waitin’ for you, when Mitch gets your faucet sorted out.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, smiled and then glanced at Detective Mitch Lawson before looking down at my feet, turning and walking the short distance to my door. I opened it, walked through, and held it open for him to come inside.

He did and I tried not to hyperventilate.

“Which one is it?” he asked as I closed the door behind him.