Falling asleep with Mindy in my arms is the best sleep I’ve had since Angie walked into my life like a hurricane, catching me in a cyclone of chaos. Even Mindy’s stale morning breath is a welcoming change as I kiss her while making love—

Scratch that. While having sex.

Because we’re not at that level yet. Even though I’m a sedulous lover, right now, we’re just friends with benefits, so even if my stupid, sappy brain throbs with the word love, I won’t dare say it. 

Not yet.

Mindy moans into my mouth, muffling her climax, and this time when I spill into her, I’m wearing a condom. In fact, the carpet next to the bed is littered with gold foil wrappers from having a sex fest all night. It definitely feels different than when I was inside her without a latex barrier, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

Giving one last deep kiss, I roll off her and onto my back, panting. “I think I’m officially spent.”

“Me too,” Mindy sighs and shifts to her side to rest her head on my chest. “But we don’t have to wear condoms. I’m on birth control. I have an IUD.”

“Is that the weird thing I felt near your cervix?”

“Yeah, it has little strings attached, so the doctor can pull it out when it expires.”

“Interesting.” I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. “Does it hurt? Like when I pound you, does it cause the IUD to move around.”

“No. Sometimes I forget it’s there.” Mindy shrugs.

“I see. But if we’re going to start having sex without condoms, we should get tested,” I say, as the thought of Richie’s spaghetti dick comes to mind. He cheated on Mindy throughout their marriage, so his weenie is filthy. 

Mindy kisses my chest, then leans up on her elbow. “Ok. I’ll make an appointment with my doctor this week, but for now, I’m starving.” 

“Breakfast?”

“Yes. I have eggs and bacon, but if we’re lucky, Neal will make it for us. He loves showing off.”

We reluctantly peel ourselves from the sheets we’ve sullied with our body fluids, and Mindy rifles through her dresser for a long t-shirt while I slide on my clothes from last night. I exit the bedroom first and bump into Chloe in the hallway, which is a fascinating twist. 

“Sup,” she says, wearing Neal’s shirt with no pants as she nonchalantly walks past me.

“Well, well, well…” I laugh, following her into the kitchen. “Is that the walk of shame I see?”

“Ain’t to shame in my game,” Chloe scoffs and reaches for coffee cups in the cabinet, causing Neal’s shirt to ride up her thighs, so I look away. “I think I broke Neal’s headboard, and I’m damn proud of it.”

“So that’s what I heard.”

“Look who’s talking.” Chloe shoves a coffee pod into the Keurig. “I’ll be surprised if Mindy can walk for the rest of the day.”

“Chloe!” Mindy gasps as she enters the kitchen with Neal. 

“Oh, come on. It’s too late to be shy. We all heard you guys last night. Hell, I think even the neighbors down the street heard.”

“Chloe, stop.” Mindy covers her face in embarrassment.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Chloe laughs. “After dealing with your narcissistic ex-husband, you deserve amazing orgasms.”

And she’s right. Mindy doesn’t just deserve epic sex. She deserves the world, and I want to give that to her. 

Also, I’ve got to admit, standing in their kitchen drinking coffee and laughing about last night is something I didn’t realize I needed until now.

I can get used to this.

∆∆∆

It’s a short drive back to the apartment while zipping through neighborhoods. The crisp morning fog blows through my garments, and there’s an echo of my motorcycle rumbling.

“It’s right up there.” Chloe taps my shoulder, and her arm returns to hugging my waist as I throttle the motorcycle forward.

“Nice place. Didn’t realize you lived so close to me.”

“I’m just subletting. I could never actually afford to live here,” she shouts into my ear as the chilly wind whips past us.

We cross the intersection, and I ease up to the curb on Bartlett Street in front of a remodeled apartment building that was turned into luxury condos a few years back. It has its own movie theater, a private garden, and a fancy gym with upscale equipment. At least that’s what I read on Craigslist back when Celia and I split, and I needed a new place to live.

“Fun night, ey Miguel?” Chloe hikes off the bike and removes her helmet.

“Sure was. So…” I poke her arm, grinning. “You and Neal are a thing now, huh?”

“Maybe. How about you and Mindy?” 

“We’re complicated.” I rub my jaw as the smile spreads across it. 

“Aren’t we all?” Chloe laughs.

“So, are you going to see Neal again?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs.

“Why not? The two of you looked perfect this morning. Like you’ve been together for years. I think he’d be good for you.”

“I think so too, and he’s very much my type, but the timing is off.”

“How so?”

“Because of everything going on with my ex-husband, Barry. He heard about my exhibit at the MoMa, and now he wants a chunk of the money I’ll make. I swear he’s going to leave me in rags.”

“Never! We’ve got your back,” I assure her.

“Sometimes I wish I could just kill him." She raises her hands as if she's choking him. "Bury the body in Muir Woods or dump him out at sea.”

“Too bad we’re not murders.” I wink.

“No, but…” 

“But what?” I narrow my eyes as she stares at me with creases forming across her brows.

The way she’s gnawing at her bottom lip tells me there’s a hell of a lot bubbling in that brilliant brain of hers—the conversation I had with Evan on the balcony floods the forefront of my thoughts. Alma asked Chloe to be her alibi, so the curiosity must be itching her skin like a heat rash.

“You’re close with Angie, right?” she finally says.

“Not really.”

“Oh, please. I know you’re fucking her.”

“It’s not like that—”

“Listen, I don’t give a shit that you’re boning her.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “You’re a grown man and free to do whatever you want. Just don’t sleep with her and Mindy.”

“I would never. I’m done messing with Angie.”

“Good. And my point is, the two of you have gotten close, so you must know about Alma’s behavior lately.”

“Not until last night. Evan mentioned she’s been acting weird.”

“Not just her. Jackson too.” Chloe rubs the creases on her forehead as if she can smooth them out, but the concern remains as words vomit from her mouth. “I just have this feeling they’re up to something, and I can’t help but think back on that night at Baretta where Angie brought up killing our exes. I don’t know what it is about her, but ever since she’s come around, I’ve felt a shift in the group dynamic. We’re kind of like a family, you know? For the past few months, our group hasn’t changed, until now. What if Angie wasn’t joking?”

“Come on, Chloe.” I force out a laugh. Meanwhile, my heart is racing faster than a chihuahua high on peyote. “I doubt Angie’s smart enough to pull off murder.”

“What if she is, though?”

“Chloe…”

“No, hear me out, Miguel. We’re all getting dicked one way or another, but what if we could make it stop?”

“Yeah, but you’re talking about murder,” I practically whisper and glance around because fuck this conversation. The last thing I need is another rational person in my life losing their mind.

“Stop playing innocent.” Chloe rolls her eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever is going on with Alma and Jackson started when Angie came around. So there is no way you’re fucking her and somehow out of the loop with whatever is happening. You know what’s going on.” 

“I’m not sleeping with Angie anymore, so stop saying that.”

“As of when?” Chloe folds her arms, and I shrug.

“At least a week.” 

“Interesting. So, you stop sleeping with her right around the time Alma rants to me about Gino getting out of prison and needing an alibi. It also occurs around the time Evan says Jackson started acting funny.”

“Chloe, I don’t know what you’re insinuating—”

“It sounds like you and Angie had a falling out, and that’s why you’re not banging anymore. So something must have happened for you to back off from her.”

“Or maybe I just got tired of fucking her? The woman is a nutcase.” I shrug again.

“Oh, please. Sex is sex, and men compartmentalize their emotions all the time. You stopped banging her because she’s helping Alma and Jackson punish their exes, which freaked you out. Admit it!”

“Jesus, Chloe! Keep your voice down.” I glance around. “Where is all of this coming from?”

“It’s coming from a place of ire that lives deep within my bones,” she fires back. “Because you know something, and you’re lying to me.”

“You know what…” I slip on my helmet. “I don’t deserve to be accused or interrogated like this by a friend.” 

“I just,” Chloe pauses and takes a deep breath, composing herself as she relaxes her arms. “I know something is going on, and I’m desperate. I want in.”

“Chloe, listen to yourself. You want to murder your ex? Actually kill him?” 

We stare at each other for a moment as the morning breeze rustles through the trees lining the sidewalk. Her hardened expression crumbles, and she drops her gaze to our feet. It's probably sinking in how crazy this conversation is, and she's rightfully embarrassed. Chloe never raises her voice to anyone, so something more profound has to be going on for her to be acting this way.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to come to that?” She fidgets with the hem of her sweater. “What if we just scared our exes to the point of them thinking they’re going to die?”

“I think you need coffee.”

“Probably,” Chloe laughs, then sighs deeply. “I guess I’m tired of Barry inserting himself into my life. It’s like the moment he hears it’s going good, he has his lawyers amend our spousal support agreement. I know I cheated on him, so he has every right to be resentful, but at this point, he's being vindictive. It's not fair.”

“I’m sorry he’s doing that to you.”

“Look at where I live.” She motions to the building, and I snort because it’s a pretty swanky place to rest your head. “I’m not kidding, Miguel. I’m subletting this apartment while the owner is in Europe, which means I’ll have to look for another place soon, and I can’t afford a real apartment—not with the spousal support I’m court-ordered to pay my dickhead ex-husband. I’m couch surfing—going from one sublet to the next. And I’m an artist, so it’s not like I can move to a smaller, more affordable town. I need to be where my art will sell, and I want this back and forth with Barry to stop.”

“I know you do.” I squeeze her shoulder and slap on a smile. “But that’s why we have our little family, and we’ll get through the hard times together.”

“Right.” She nods, but there’s something about her expression that says Chloe still doubts me, and she won't let this go. “Anyway. I have to get going. Thanks for the ride and for letting me vent.”

“Anytime.”

Sunlight bounces off the glass door as Chloe retreats inside the building, and my pocket buzzes. When I pull out my phone, there’s a message from my mom saying she needs me to drop by.

Me: I gotta head home first.

Mom: No. You need to come here. NOW.

Me: Can it wait?

Mom: NOW, MIGUEL.

A breeze blows, sending dry leaves skittering across the sidewalk in front of me, and a shiver rolls down my spine. Why do I feel like I’m in trouble for sneaking cookies before dinner? So, I reluctantly take off, and after a few short blocks, I’m at my mom’s place. 

Where a surprise awaits me.