Must Love Wieners

by Griffin, Casey

  “Right,” Piper said. “What he said.”

  Steve snorted. “You mean the destruction of my property.”

  “This is my home. My stuff. Or … it was,” she amended lamely.

  “It’s only your home as long as you pay for it.” Sighing, he pulled off his bifocals and cleaned them on his stained polo shirt. When he put them back on it was like he was able to see something other than red. “Piper,” he said, a bit calmer. “You haven’t paid up for the month. I can’t let you live here for free.”

  Aiden’s head swiveled to her and her cheeks flared hot, but she pretended like she hadn’t noticed. “Look, I’m sorry. I was trying to scrape by until payday, and then I got really … busy.” Which was a gross understatement.

  She dug into her purse, fishing for the check Aiden wrote her on Friday for dog walking. Whipping it out, she waved it in the air. “Look. See? Here’s my paycheck. I can sign it over to you right now.”

  Ducking into the kitchen, she rifled through the pile of clutter on the tiles from the overturned junk drawer. When she found a pen, she signed the check over to Steve on the back of a frying pan.

  “Here.” She slipped back into the hall and waved it in his face until he snatched it from her.

  He glanced at the amount. “This isn’t near enough. And it’s two weeks late.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, wishing Aiden weren’t there to witness this. “Come on. I’m clean. I’m quiet. I’m a good neighbor. Just ask anyone.”

  “Good neighbor?” His eyebrows shot up. “Your neighbors say that you’ve been hooking.”

  She gasped in indignation. “Hooking?! I’m not hooking.”

  “They said they’ve seen you come and go at all hours of the day in … costumes.”

  She noticed one of the cops inside turn his head toward their conversation. “I’m not hooking,” she told him.

  Steve studied Aiden, his tailored suit and Cartier watch. He leaned closer to Piper, whispering behind his hand, “That’s not your john, is it?”

  Piper swatted him away, mostly to waft the smell of Budweiser out of her face. “I’m not a hooker. I’m a telegram girl.”

  “If it’s a matter of money…” Aiden reached for his back pocket.

  Piper held up her hand. “I thank you,” she said as sincerely as she could between clenched teeth, “but if you finish that sentence I’m going to hit you with this frying pan.” Baby steps, she reminded herself. Death threats weren’t a good start to making progress with accepting help. She tried to give him a tight smile to show that she was kidding … mostly. Okay, not really.

  “Look, Piper,” Steve began. “If it was a matter of a late rent, I’d let you stay. Despite the graffiti I had to clean off your window.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. It was harder to get off than I anticipated.”

  “You’re a good kid. But you know the rules.” He tilted his bald head toward the apartment.

  Colin stood in the middle of the living room, his barrel chest swollen proudly as though he’d swallowed his own beach ball. His tail whipped back and forth. He scampered over and presented a gift to Piper clamped in his jaws: Mr. Wiggles.

  “Oh,” was all she could say in defense.

  “Hey, get that dog out of the crime scene!” one of the cops yelled.

  Colin threw his head back to get a better grip on her stuffed animal. He clamped down again, and the toy blew out a pathetic sque-e-e-ea-a-a-ak. But to Piper’s ears it sounded more like You’re screeeeeeewed.

  Aiden cleared his throat. “That’s my dog. Colin, here, boy.” He bent down and Colin trotted over to show off his toy.

  Steve held up a hand. “Save it. I can see the dog food spilling out of the pantry from here.”

  Aiden reached for his back pocket again, but Piper threw him a glare that stopped him dead. Groaning in frustration, he ran his hands through his hair until it looked like he’d just tumbled out of bed.

  “But Steve, please. I’m begging you. I have my licensing exam next week. As in my final exam. Eight years of my life working toward this. I can’t handle worrying about graduating and moving out.”

  “No buts, Piper. You’re out. You have three days, as per your broken agreement.”

  The air whooshed from her lungs like he’d kicked her in the chest. She gripped the doorframe as though the floor had fallen out from under her feet. Forget all her broken crap; forget homicidal maniacs in cars; forget pyromaniacs who wanted to set her entire world on fire. Now she was freaking out. She had finally reached her limit.

  “I’m sorry. Rules are rules.” Steve raised his hands to show her there was nothing he could do. “And keep the dog under wraps,” he said. “I don’t want the other tenants finding out. Next thing you know I’ll be running a zoo.”

  He gave her a look loaded with pity, and without meaning to, her back straightened and her chin rose. She knew she had problems if Steve pitied her.

  The cop who interviewed her hovered at the threshold to her apartment. “Miss Summers?” she said. “Can you please explain this?”

  Oh no, she thought. They’d found her vibrators. Was it the purple one? For the love of God, not the red one! How did she let Zoe convince her to purchase that monstrosity? That wonderfully effective monstrosity …

  Piper swallowed hard, but when she looked at what the cop was holding she frowned at it for a moment. It was a piece of black lace hanging off the end of a pen.

  The skin on her neck prickled, heat creeping up it, spreading over her cheeks. “Umm, that’s my underwear.”

  Steve whistled. “That’s not underwear. That’s what I use to floss my teeth.”

  Piper juddered slightly as her skin crawled. She flashed him a dirty look. Aiden shifted, looming over him, his face darker than she thought possible for the self-controlled businessman. Steve wisely chose to look abashed and avert his gaze to the stained carpet.

  The police officer took a second pen and slid it through the other leg hole until Piper could see right through, well … the most important part of the panties.

  Piper gasped. “What happened to my crotch?”

  “They all seem to be like that,” the cop said.

  “All of them?” Piper’s voice rose an octave.

  “Yeah. Looks like the intruder took a pair of scissors to the entire drawer. We, uhh…” Her face colored a little and she cleared her throat. “We can’t find the other pieces. It looks like they took them home as a souvenir.”

  Piper closed her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  She felt more than saw Aiden stiffen, his jaw clenching as he forced an angry puff of air out of his nose. His self-control was certainly being tested that weekend.

  The police officer recovered from her embarrassment. “Do you have any other thoughts about who would have broken into your apartment tonight and mutilated your underwear drawer?”

  The skin crawling returned like she was covered in cockroaches, a feeling she experienced often. Once a week, in fact. Every time she went to see him: “Barney Miller.”

  “Is that a boyfriend of yours?”

  Piper’s gag reflex activated without warning, but she took a deep breath before she hurled. “No. Definitely not. He’s a regular client of mine. Or was.”

  “A john?” asked Steve.

  “I’m not a prostitute,” she snapped. “He hired me to sing telegrams. We had a disagreement a couple of weeks ago and I quit on him. Apparently, he’s been stalking me. A report was made earlier today.” She didn’t exactly feel like reliving it.

  The thought of Barney’s disgusting little hands riffling through her underwear drawer, fingering her panties while he cut out the crotches, made bile rise in her throat again. She turned away from the thong and braced herself against the wall.

  Aiden grabbed her chin and fixed her with a stare that said he meant business. “You’re staying at my house tonight.”

  She wasn’t sure if he said it
because she had someone, or maybe several someones, after her or because her crotchless Victoria’s Secret panties were still dangling off the end of a ballpoint pen. Either way, she wasn’t about to argue.

  29

  Throw a Dog a Bone

  Piper trudged into Aiden’s house and dropped her overnight bag and backpack next to the side table. By now, the numbness that had taken over her body at her apartment had faded, replaced with raw sensations of fear, weariness, and, most frustratingly, helplessness. The door slammed behind her, making her jump. She turned around to find Aiden glowering at her. Sophie greeted them from the bottom of the steps, but he didn’t seem to notice her.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Aiden demanded.

  She flinched at the hostility in his voice, and so did Colin and Sophie. “About what?”

  “About what? About everything. How about the creep who’s been perving on you at work? Or let’s start with the fact that you couldn’t pay rent and now you’re homeless.”

  Her back straightened at his tone. “Because, quite frankly, my finances are none of your business.” And they weren’t. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t the boss of her. Okay, well, technically he was. But still … “This is my problem, not yours.”

  Colin and Sophie shared an uncomfortable look and decided to head into the other room to give them privacy.

  “But it’s such an easy problem for me to fix,” Aiden said. “You know perfectly well that a month’s rent isn’t going to break the bank. Why didn’t you just ask?”

  She’d been zapped of energy, it had been another long day, she had a headache, and the last thing she wanted to do was fight. “What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I can’t stay there now that Steve knows I have a dog.”

  Aiden sighed, loosening his tie like he wanted a truce as much as she did. “All right. We can deal with it tomorrow. I know of a good moving company. They can take care of everything in a single afternoon.”

  “Right”—she laughed dryly—“and move to where?”

  He snorted. “I run a little company called Caldwell and Son Investments. I’m not sure if you’ve heard about us. We own a property or two.”

  “You think I can afford one of your luxury properties that have some pretentious name like the Nottingham Lakeview Estates? Even though it’s not really an estate and it’s nowhere near a lake,” she babbled, flustered by the suggestion. “That comes with doormen, and elevators, and fancy swirly numbers on the doors, and probably not even a single cockroach?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure the owner won’t mind if you stay for free.”

  “Forget it.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not bumming off you.”

  He scowled. “You won’t be bumming off me.”

  “Fine, then I’ll be freeloading off your company dime.”

  “What does it matter?” He ran his hands through his hair again. It had only just fallen down since the last time. She wondered if he did it enough times if it would get stuck like that. He threw his hands up in the air, voice loud enough to carry throughout the house. “I’m trying to help you. Why won’t you let me?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, emphasis on the word “fine.”

  He laughed, a little crazed, she thought. “You’re not fine. Stop saying you’re fine. A single word has never irritated me so much in all my life.”

  “I don’t need your help,” she snapped. “I don’t need your money. I can take care of myself.”

  “Clearly.” He waved a hand to encompass everything that happened that night. Or maybe that week. Or maybe even in her life.

  She thrust her fists onto her hips, and winced slightly as she hit her bruise. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I didn’t mean…” He made a visible attempt at collecting himself and his thoughts. “It’s just that everyone seems to need me for something. For money, or contacts, or leverage, but you–”

  “Me what? The CEO doesn’t have enough people under his thumb; he needs me under it too?”

  “Under my thumb?” he repeated incredulously. “Where is this coming from?”

  “Do you have some crazy desire to feel needed by everyone?”

  “No!” he blurted. “Not by everyone. I just want to feel needed by you. Because…” The anger faded from his face, his tone softening, like the fight had fled his body. “Because I need you.”

  And just like that, she’d been bucked from her high horse. A second before she had a response ready for almost anything he could say, but she hadn’t been ready for that.

  “But the one person that I want to help the most,” he said, “doesn’t want my help. Not even when she’s about to become homeless, not even for the rescue center that she loves so much. Don’t think I didn’t notice you never cashed my check. And I practically threw a job at you and I still had to convince you to take it.”

  It was true. She couldn’t deny it. “I told you,” she muttered, “I don’t like handouts.”

  “The money means nothing to me. It’s nothing for me to give it to you. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Well, it’s a big deal to me.”

  “Why?” His voice was still thick with frustration, but he stared at her like he really wanted to know, to understand.

  “Because I worked hard to get where I am. It may not be great, it may not be glamorous, but when you consider how far I’ve come it is. I did this.” She spread her hands wishing she could display all her accomplishments before him. “On my own. And I didn’t need anyone to do it.”

  “Dammit, Piper.” He banged his fist against the wall, the sound echoing around the grand foyer. “I feel like an asshole standing by and watching your life fall apart when I can do something about it.”

  “My life isn’t falling apart. This is my life.” She laughed without humor, like it was ridiculous to think it could be anything but. “And it has been for the last eight years. It’s called being a starving student. My life fell apart in high school and I’ve gotten by just fine on my own up until now. And I’ll continue to get by. Life doesn’t change because I’m dating Mr. Big-Shot CEO.”

  “Shouldn’t it?” he asked, seeming to find the crux of his argument. “Shouldn’t it get better? When you find someone and decide that you want to be with them, isn’t it because they make your life better, not harder? I know you make my life better.” He tried to reach out to her, but she pulled away.

  “Right. I make life real easy. You know, between the evictions, the unemployment, losing cars, the hit-and-runs, and arson—”

  “And the laughs,” he interrupted, “and how easy it is to talk to you, and how, when I’m with you, I can be myself. I never feel pressured to be Mr. Big-Shot CEO, as you put it. I’m not a paparazzi target, or the front-page news of the society pages. I’m just Aiden. Cargo shorts, plaid-wearing, dog owner Aiden.”

  A chuckle rose to her throat, but she was too angry for it to reach her lips. “Don’t forget the Hawaiian shirt.”

  Closing the distance between them, he reached out and held her face in both of his hands. “You may not think you make my life better, but you do. You make me better. I haven’t felt like I could be myself since my father died and I had to step into his big shoes. I’ve needed you in my life for longer than I ever knew. To have someone that, when you’re together, makes the weight of the world feel like a feather.”

  She stared back, trying to imagine it. If she could allow herself to lean on someone else a little, to share the weight she’d been carrying for so long, what would that feather feel like?

  When she couldn’t find an argument, he took her hand and drew her into the sitting room. They sat down on the leather club sofa and he turned to face her.

  “Would you want to see Addison or Zoe thrown out on the street with nowhere to live?”

  She rolled her eyes, but more at herself because she was beginning to see his point. Why did he have to make so much damned sense? And why was it so hard to admit it out loud? “No. I’d do eve
rything I could for them.”

  “Well, it just so happens that I can do more than most. Are you going to hold that against me?” he asked. “You only have a week left until you graduate, until your exam. Are you going to throw it all away because you’re living in a cardboard box? Because you’re too proud to accept my help?”

  “I suppose not. No.”

  “Besides”—he grinned—“if you want me to spend nights at your place, well, I find drain water disagrees with my complexion. And don’t get me started on park benches. They play up my lower back.”

  She smiled despite herself. “Well, I was thinking of something more like a spot under a staircase. You know, nice and dry. Or maybe an underpass.”

  “Sounds lovely. We could put up some newspaper curtains, plant some flowers in the drainpipe.”

  “Whoa. Hold on a minute.” She held up her hands. “You’re already moving in? We’re moving a little fast, aren’t we?”

  He grabbed her hands in both of his, kissing her knuckles before leveling her with a firm look. “You’re strong, independent, resilient, and really, really persistent. I know that you will be just fine on your own. But I don’t want you to be just fine.” He squeezed her hands. “I want you to be amazing.”

  “But you said so yourself, nothing in life worth having comes easy.” Even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. Her argument had lost its punch.

  “So would an easy life with me not be worth having?” he asked seriously.

  She bit her lip, wanting to scream, “Yes! It would be worth everything.” If only it weren’t for her damned stubborn pride. Not to mention those uncertainties and questions that were still rolling around inside her head, waiting to be answered. So instead, she looked him square in the eye and said, “I just don’t want to be your charity case.”

  “I don’t want you to be my charity case, either,” he said. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

  It was suddenly hard to breathe, like the air had thickened around them. Her eyes began to sting. She blinked to keep them from tearing up. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught like she was drowning in all the words that bubbled up inside her, fighting to be the first ones out, like, “Eeek” and “Are you sure?” or “Hell, yes!”