Breaking Even (3 page)

Hadn't thought of that. And I really wish he hadn’t just put that thought in my head.

“Then I'll sleep with one eye open. I couldn't let her get away with smashing my car and not do anything about it. It wouldn't be... me.”

He tilts his head, and I keep my eyes trained on the road in front of me because I refuse to see the scrutiny in his eyes. “Then call the cops. The girl hit your car and drove off. Don't sneak into her house and saw her bed down.”

My laughter escapes before I even realize it, and Wren’s eyes widen again. Christ. You’d think I never laugh at all. Okay, so maybe it is rather rare, but that just means I’m not an easily entertained fool.

This is more fun than I realized, and I might have laughed a long time ago if I had known how fun it was to piss someone off as well as I’ve pissed her off.

I would have loved to have seen her face when she crashed to the ground after that bed collapsed. As high as that bed was, it had to have gone into a forty-five degree angle the second it fell.

We turn onto my road, and I grow curious when I see people walking down the sidewalk in mass quantities. It's rare I see more than a few joggers. These are regularly clothed people in suits and casual wear, all of them walking as though they're on a mission.

Just as I near my house, I quickly whip into the spot that will piss her off in the morning. I can't help my smug-as-fuck grin.

“Holy shit!” Wren says through a cough, his gaze going across the street to my house.

It's then I realize my lawn is littered with people who are dying laughing, and a projector screen is playing on the side of my white home. What. The. Hell?

It's a scene on repeat, and it's not exactly something I want my damn neighbors seeing.

“What the fuck is that?” I screech, irritated by the unusual octave of my voice.

I climb out of my SUV, wondering why there's guy-on-guy porn on the side of my house.

“What the hell is this?” I growl as soon as I near Leslie Marks, my neighbor from down the road.

“It's
Broke Back Mountain,
” she says through a chuckle, and I cringe as the scene starts back over, apparently playing on a loop as two cowboys in a tent breathe a little too heavily.

“Ah, hell,” Wren says, walking away from me like he doesn't know me at all.

I'm going to kill her.

I rush over and grab the projector, and then I stomp the fuck out of it as the sounds and images end.

Everyone is laughing, but I tune them out as I zero in on the girl sitting on her porch, grinning as she absently stirs a straw in her glass. My stride turns into a sprint, and she squeals while jumping up and running inside, dropping and shattering her glass in an attempt to escape me.

The door slams and locks seconds before I reach it, and I pound fiercely as the neighborhood continues laughing at my back.

“Who is it?” she asks in a singsong voice, a mocking lilt to her tone that proves she feels cocky and safe inside her house.

“Open the damn door!” I bark, and her laughter pours out to taunt me.

“Not happening. Consider us even.”

Even? “You've got to be fucking kidding me!”

She only laughs harder, and I glare at the door like I can blow it to pieces with the sheer power of my enraged mind. Unfortunately, all that happens is the abrupt promise of a migraine.

“Fine. You want to play this game? Then consider this a declaration of war. Just remember you started it.”

“Bring it on, Darlin’,” she says in a playful, deep tone, recycling my words from yesterday.

There will be hell to pay for this.

***

BRIN

“Shit!” I yell as the blue dye drips from my body.

Maggie's laughter rolls out, and I turn to glare at her as the blue continues to soak through my clothes.

“Damn,” she chuckles as I close the refrigerator door.

“It's everywhere,” I groan when I look at my body, the kitchen floor, and the wall behind me. Oh, and my poor, pitiful hair.

Maggie's laughter only grows. How did he rig my refrigerator to explode blue dye packs the second I opened it? And when the hell did he do it?

“Did you let him in again?” I growl, giving my murderous glare to the possible traitor.

“No,” she chuckles, shaking her head. “He must have found a way in.”

“And disarmed the alarm?” I ask skeptically.

“Must have,” she says, lying her ass off.

“How could you?”

She only laughs harder, grabbing her side as though she’s in pain. I glare at my
ex
-best friend, and she leans back, trying to catch her breath.

“He's dead,” I hiss, doing all I can to come up with something as equally destructive to do to him. “Right after I get this damn blue off me. It had so better not be permanent, or you'll be the next one to suffer my wrath.”

Instead of cowering in fear—as she should—she only continues to laugh, and I storm into my bedroom to shower and plot my revenge.

***

BRIN

“It's not so bad,” Maggie lies, biting back her grin as she looks at the remnants of blue that are still staining my hair.

“It looks like I have a lot of graying hair.” I could cry—if I knew how to cry. The blue faded to be a duller, lighter color, but it didn't all wash out. My clothes are ruined, and my hair... I'll kill him.

“It's really not so bad. Besides, I can make you a hair appointment with my girl. She'll have this fixed up in no time.”

She gives me an apologetic smile that I don't particularly find sincere. She's helping the enemy. How could she?

“Well, I have a date to get ready for,” she says when my scowl loses its effect. I suppose it can't lose its effect if it didn't have one to begin with. “So you're on your own with Mr. Sexy for the rest of the day.”

She turns to walk away just as I say, “You have an early morning date? So this is getting really serious?”

She grins as she walks into her room, not bothering to answer. It's barely six in the morning. But I have more important things to worry about than her breakfast date.

I quickly rummage the cabinets and see the baking soda. Genius strikes.

When I hear Maggie slip into the shower, I quickly make my way out the front door and across the lawn. Hopefully he’s not up yet. As long as he’s not waking up to gloat about my new dye job, I should be able to get in without detection.

He doesn't have an alarm on his house—I don't think. He swung the door open as soon as his footsteps made it there the other morning when I banged on his door. And I know I've seen him climb through the window before when he apparently locked his keys in the house.

Geez, I sound like a stalker.

Moving to the window I've seen him climb through three times, I push up, smiling when the window lifts without sounding an alarm. It's a little high, but fortunately I'm able to hoist myself up and fall in like the worst covert operative ever.

Staying still, I listen for any rustle of movement to say I'm busted. I look around at the living room I'm in. Damn. It's twice the size of ours. And it's really, really clean. So not what I was expecting.

I wish I had more time to snoop, but I don't. I have to hurry before he finds me.

His massive kitchen is easy to locate, and I take a second to marvel at all the marble surfaces. It looks like a picture Tuscany would envy.

Surprisingly, the copper accents and fixtures actually look good alongside the sleek stainless steel appliances. Guys don't deserve kitchens like this. I would love it, take care of it, and treat it with so much respect. It does smell good in here, so maybe he's utilizing it at least a little.

With a wistful sigh, I open the fridge, and that's when I melt a little more. It's something people should sing about. Crisp vegetables along with numerous other things are perfectly organized within the fridge. I want to move in and move him out.

Grabbing the ketchup, I offer one last look to the fridge, and then I sneak back out. This is going to be good.

After managing to get out the window with more grace than I entered, I sprint across the yard and head inside. It takes the ketchup a while to run to the top, but I wait patiently, never moving my eyes until the last drop has slid down. Then I flip it back up. Just as I grab the baking soda, Maggie walks in wearing nothing but her towel.

I ignore her as I focus on the task at hand.

“Why are you pouring baking soda into our ketchup bottle?”

Ah hell. This is making a mess. My excitement has caused my hands to shake and some of the baking soda spills over.

“It's not our ketchup,” I mumble absently.

“Whose is it? And why are you pouring baking soda in it?”

“Have you ever seen one of those baking soda and vinegar volcanoes people used to do at school?” I ask distractedly, still dedicating the majority of my attention on my revenge.

“Yes. Why?” she asks slowly.

“Do you know what the main ingredient is in ketchup?”

I screw the lid on with a proud smile on my face as the red coats the white and hides it from sight.

“No,” she says, acting as though she's worried about my sanity at this point.

“Vinegar,” I murmur, grinning bigger as I carefully move to the window, looking to see if anyone is outside that could tattle on me.

“And?” she prompts.

I turn around, my twisted mind reveling in the sheer excitement. “One thing that is very predictable about our jackass neighbor is that he barbeques every third Wednesday of the month. I can smell the burgers cooking from over here. I always feel hungry all day because of that damn scent. Tonight, he'll have a surprise.”

“The ketchup?” she asks, still seeming confused.

“Yep. Just like anyone else that uses a bottle of ketchup, he'll shake it first.”

She walks over just as I open the door, and she asks, “What happens when he shakes it?”

***

RYE

Wren and Tag deal the cards again just as I bring the burgers in.

Dane is sitting next to Maverick, though I don’t know why either of them came. Dane isn’t my biggest fan. But Tag and Wren keep trying to put us together.

Girls.

“Your luck has to run out sooner or later,” Tag growls, glaring at me.

“He wouldn’t be winning if Raya was here,” Wren points out.

“She’s banned from the poker tables,” Dane says idly, picking his cards up.

“I refuse to even watch her play poker anymore,” Tag grumbles.

I just laugh. It feels good to finally have Tag over. He rarely gets out of Ash's ass these days.

I pull out more beers and all the shit we’ll need to start making our burgers.

“Where's your girl?” I ask, putting the spread out on the kitchen island.

Maverick hops up to grab a plate while Tag answers.

“She's hanging out with Rain and Raya tonight. Raya and Kade have been on the rocks since his grandfather’s death. So Ash and Rain took her out to cheer her up.”

That’s why Tag came. His girl wasn’t at home.

“Ketchup?” I ask Maverick as he turns around.

“Nah, it’s not my thing. I don’t eat anything red,” he says suggestively, forcing my stomach to roil.

I roll my eyes as I put my bun on the plate and reach for the ketchup, shaking it before continuing my conversation with Tag. “So that's why you came over—”

A loud
bang
halts my retort as something wet and cold slaps me in the face, and I jump back while trying to see anything but red. Fucking ketchup is every-damn-where.

For a brief moment there is stunned silence, then suddenly there is nothing but riotous laughter as the scene around me registers to everyone.

“I guess red
is
your thing,” Maverick jokes.

Dickhead.

Tag and Wren are laughing hard enough to be in stitches right now.
Assholes
. I'm still trying to wrap my head around what the hell just happened as I wipe away the red goop from my eyes.

Ah, fuck. The shit even got on my ceiling.

Then anger bubbles up as realization sets in. She couldn't have. How would she have gotten into my house? No. I'm giving her way too much credit.

“What's wrong?” Dane asks, trying his damnedest not to laugh as my fury seeps through every feature on my face.

“I'm going to kill her,” is my simple response.

***

BRIN

I'm not surprised to see him stalking across the yard, muscles flexing as his jaw ticks. But I am surprised to see him still covered in ketchup.

All the streetlights illuminate him, but I swear he’s angry enough to glow on his own. His dirty-blonde hair is smeared with red, and he looks as though he just walked out of a massacre.

My laughter breaks out before I can do anything about it, and he stops and looks through the window where I'm gripping the ledge for much needed support.

“That's what I fucking thought,” he growls. “Okay. Remember this shit.”

He turns around and walks away, and I drop to the ground to pray for air. But I'm just laughing too hard. It was a shitty day at work, but having this to look forward to made it bearable.

“I take it the ketchup volcano worked?” Maggie asks, amused as she struts out in her formfitting dress.

More like a ketchup bomb.

I nod when words can't form, and my laughter infects her, making it impossible for her not to join in. She rolls her eyes as she grabs her purse.

“I have to go meet Carmen. Try not to get the house burned down while I'm gone.”

It physically hurts to breathe right now. I love it when my plans come together.

Maggie waves while shaking her head, a small bit of laughter still lingering in her wake. I'm glad she's found someone to date, even though she's constantly gone now. I'm actually looking forward to my date tomorrow. I almost wish it was tonight. It sucks to be here alone with nothing to do, but at least I got my nemesis back.

He's going to come back with something terrible, so I have to be prepared. I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am, but it's the most fun I've had in years.

Just as I grab my remote, the TV cuts out, and the power dies to the house. Did he really just do that?