made much progress on the tasks at hand. I work as a freelance editor, getting paid by the hour, so if I didn't put in those hours, well, no paycheck for me. And let's face it, I had my own mouth

come cheap. And on top of all that, I had my house to think about. I was in the process

ipped in and done some of the work, and my friend Troy had also lent a helping hand. So, I guess you could say I h

ted didn't just magically appear and say, "Hey, Pennelope Casey, we want to be a part of your home,

eams, and let me tell you, I had plenty o

ndulge in a little daydream about our first meeting. In this imagined scenario, I was a whole lot smarter, funnier, and way more mysterious and alluring. My charming qualities would have him instantly hooked, dazzled by my sharp wit, my talent for engaging conversation, a

st, I hoped he'd re

things, I was simply drunk, and not at all the im

rate daydream, and I snapped back to reality, j

eeded fixing, and I had this brilliant idea of offering him a six pack and a homemade pizza in exchange for his handyman skills. But then, a not-so-appealing thought crept into my mi

gs, paint brushes, power tools, and a collection of not-so-powerful tools. Cans and tubes of practically everything added to the clutter, all of it haphazardly jumbled together and coated in a fine layer of du

ked by two narrow walls adorne

fore I crossed paths with my Mysterious Stranger, I took a single step into this chaotic and dilapidated house, caugh

ce instantly lit

ought solace in the heavens above, and he sent up a prayer that see

nsible advice, I went ahead

ht, I really should h

t the door, my heart sank as I saw Ro

sh

t, shoot

he feeling was mutual. What

h Payton and Roxy, I wouldn't put it past them to surprise me, subdue me, and then ransack my house. In my more ominous daydrea

onsidered pretty if she eased up on the black eyeliner and blush, not to mention using a lip

e shouted, and

ole neighborhood heard her. I quite liked my neighbors, and I'm pretty sure they didn't

, positioning myself between it and the ja

ring a friendly tone and feel

pleasantries. Instead, she retorte

s talking about. Roxy totally

ing a conscious effort to

I re

er warning, "If she's in

hunderous shout, "Payton! Bitch, if you're i

maintain some level of deco

g on her toes as she continued to holler, "Payton! Pa

and hissed, "Seriously, Roxy, you need to shut up! Payton isn't here, and sh

r finger at me, and with a quick motion, she crooked her thumb, making a gunshot noise that puffed out her cheeks and caused her lips to vibrate

he one real talent I suspected sh

oes to bring our gazes level. In a soft, yet threatening voice, she sai

posed a question that was asked repeatedly

ired, hoping against hope that maybe, just

conjuring the all-too-familiar gun gesture, complete with the sound effect, her finger seemingly pointed straight at

ack leather motorcycle jacket, a short, frayed jeans skirt (which would have been deemed a crime in multiple states for various fashion and decency

s entirely preoccupied with my siste

Shit