Zaida never gets a phone call, a voicemail or a text message, especially from her sisters. But today, twenty-four hours after slipping Steve the note, she got all three from Sam Miller- a retired air force ‘pilot’ she had met years ago.
“It’s a pleasure to hear from you again Sam, what’s so important that made you call?” Zaida chuckled into her phones speaker.
“You should already know that,” He sighed. “ What are you doing?”
“I just got out of the shower, buddy, so if you plan on dropping by wait a few.”
“Be serious Zaida. I need you to be at my place soon.”
“Fine, how soon?”
“Now.”
“I’ll be there in a few, but don’t expect me to be on time. That’s Felice’s thing.”
Zaida arrived four hours later dressed in a tube top, old jeans, ratty sneakers and wet hair; she beat hard on the door and walked right into Sam’s house.
“Why did you want me here Miller?”
“Shouldn’t you be able to tell me that, Gypsy?” Sam quipped as he peaked out from his kitchen.
“First off: I am not a Gypsy, and second, I'll say, that’s not my job! How and what; that is all I have, and I can't even tell you that."
“Whatever, I have company,” he said motioning to the closed bathroom door. “Be nice.”
Zaida walked into the kitchen and seated herself on the table.
“When am I not nice?” She scoffed, looking around with a smirk and batting eyelashes. The sound of wood scraping against wood halted Sam’s quick remark as the two looked at the man exiting the bathroom.
“Your bathroom door is off cent-”
“I can fix the door for you if you want.”
Zaida and Steve both spoke at the same time.
“Forget about the door, I think we all need to talk.”
At that the three of them moved to the living room.
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