that Slab’s distinctive high-pitched whine she heard? She couldn’t be sure, but it certainly sounded like him.
Emily dropped her bag of clothes and her purse and boosted herself up onto the sink, teetering there, grabbing the top of the first stall for balance, as she leaned in closer to the vent to hear better.
Definitely Slab, she realized with a certain triumph. His voice was unmistakable. The words were muddled, but he was pleading with somebody about something, and denying all over the place, that much was clear.
A woman’s voice cut in, telling him to “cram it.” Shanda? No way to tell. She didn’t sound too sweet, that was for sure.
And then another, lower, more irritated voice joined in the conversation. “Tyler,” she whispered. After eavesdropping so shamelessly at the Rainbow Rest-O-Rant, Emily recognized his inflection immediately.
It was gross to press her ear and her clean hair into the dirty duct, but she had to hear more.
She caught Tyler’s acerbic tones, something about jumping bail and Fat Mike, and then demanding a list of who exactly knew Slab was back in San Francisco and who else had claims to the money.
“Wow,” she murmured. This was simply riveting.
Tyler’s voice grew louder and more intense. “Somebody looking for you busted into my room at my friend’s place,” he said angrily, “and tried to rough up an innocent bystander.”
Emily knew who that referred to. Her. She winced, not feeling all that innocent.
“I can’t help it—” Slab began, but then there were choking sounds, as if someone had grabbed the big guy and stopped him in midsentence.
“You tell your friends to stay away from Emily, do you hear me?” Tyler ordered in a savage tone.
Yikes. Tyler was defending her, and with physical violence. Emily didn’t know whether to be flattered or scared out of her wits.
The female voice interjected, “I’m real sorry your little tootsie got in the way, Ty. But it’s got nada to do with me.”
Little tootsie? Oh, God, she means me. And Tyler didn’t even correct her. What was a “tootsie,” anyway? Was that like a girlfriend, or more of a slut-type person?
“Shanda, he told me he left the money with you. Do you think I’m the only one who’s going to come looking for you?” Tyler asked impatiently. “You’re involved whether you like it or not.”
“He didn’t leave no money with me!” she insisted. There was a thwack, as if somebody had gotten slapped. “You big dope! Why’d you go around telling people you left your stash with me?”
“I didn’t. I swear!” Slab protested. “Yeow! Stop it, Shan. Quit hittin’ me!”
The two of them argued back and forth for several minutes, with more smacking noises and more cries of “ouch!” and “yeow!” in Slab’s distinctive whine. It sounded as if Tyler tried to intercede and pull them apart a few times, but Shanda kept up the assault.
Sweet Shanda? Not so you could notice. For being the best time Slab had ever had, Shanda was one tough cookie.
“I guess I didn’t need to fly to San Francisco to protect her,” Emily murmured. “Slab was going to take her apart with his bare hands, huh? Sounds like vice versa to me.”
But their tiff was cut off by the sound of splintering wood, as if a door had been forced open, and heavy footsteps that boomed right over Emily’s head. Now another angry voice joined the fray.
“Slabicki!” the new person growled. “I heard you was back in town.”
From this set of noises, Emily could conclude that this was all happening one floor up, in whatever was on the third floor of The Flesh Pit over the bathroom. As she kept her ear pressed to the register, she heard Slab and the third man trade insults, plus another set of feet stomp around.
How many people were up there?
As if he were right next to her ear, Tyler muttered, “Damn it all to hell. This is just what I need. More mopes. The damn place is crawling with mopes.”
“Who you calling a mope?” the third man demanded. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m nobody,” Tyler retorted. “I’m not even here.”
“Yeah, well, you’re in my business now!”
And then he pounded across the floor, and there was the sickening sound of a fist meeting a face.
Tyler’s face? She gasped, almost pitching right off her perch on the sink. Not Tyler’s face!
She knew what she had to do, and she leaped off the sink so fast she skidded into the first stall. It didn’t matter. Her mind honed in on one thought and one thought only.
Save Tyler.
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