Finally, she walks in the door. I have my gun resting against someone’s back as I draw an outline. She blows out a frustrated breath as she walks through the door. “Everything okay?” I ask. I can’t stop what I’m doing. Not right now.

“Fine,” she says. “That was so strange.”

Emily is perched on top of a desk swinging her feet, sucking on a lollipop. She’s so f**king cute in her combat boots and jeans that I want to hug her. “What was strange?” she asks.

“Those kids,” Reagan said. “I’m worried about them.”

She tells us the story and all about the aunt that had never seen the kids before. “Maybe Matt knows more about it and can fill us in later?” I suggest.

“I’m glad he went,” Reagan says. “He would have hated it otherwise.”

A woman walks in the front door, and every man in the house stops to look. She’s wearing a short, short skirt, and a fitted top with an open back. “What can we do for you?” Friday, the girl who runs the front, asks.

“I’d like to get a piercing,” she says, and she bites her lower lip.

“Can one of you do a piercing?” Friday calls. Friday is really pretty in a Katy Perry kind of way. She has tattoos on her shoulders and across her back and up her legs. I know about the ones on her legs because I put them there. She has skulls and cross bones and turtles and some really weird shit. And she dresses all retro, like a pinup girl from the sixties.

“What kind of piercing?” I ask.

Every gaze in the place turns to the woman, and she flushes. “One of those piercings!” Friday yells dramatically.

“Pete can do it,” Paul says.

Reagan’s mouth falls open. She walks over close to me. “You are not doing a private piercing,” she hisses. I do them all the time, but I don’t even want to do them anymore. She cups her hand around my ear. “The only private places you’re touching are mine.”

My heart swells. I like this. I like it a lot. “Sorry,” I say. “The little lady has spoken.” I lift my face, and she bends down to kiss me.

Paul looks at Logan, but Emily signs something to him really quickly and he grins. He shakes his head. “Can’t do it,” he says.

“Why not?” Paul blows out a heavy breath.

“Because I want to have sex tonight,” Logan says. “And tomorrow night. And the night after.”

Sam’s not here. He’s probably baking a cake somewhere. And we all know where Matt is. Paul throws down the pencil on the table where he was drawing a tattoo. “You guys are worthless,” he complains. “And pu**y whipped.”

I’m happy to be pu**y whipped. Logan walks over and high-fives me, and Emily grins at Reagan. “Thanks for taking one for the team,” I say to Paul.

It won’t be hard on him. The girl is gorgeous. “The things I have to do so you guys can have sex.” He hitches up his jeans and makes a production of helping her pick out a piercing. He takes Friday with him when he goes behind the curtain because we have learned through the years that you don’t do intimate jobs without a girl present. Kind of like a male gynecologist always having a female nurse in the room. He comes out a few minutes later, and the girl is walking funny.

She leaves, and Paul sits down and then starts to laugh. He throws a napkin at my head. “You guys suck,” he says.

Friday stands up and says, “Let’s go get a hot dog.”

“I got a hot dog for you,” Paul says.

“Promises, promises,” Friday chirps.

He grabs her in a headlock and rubs the top of her head with his knuckles. “I’d hook you up if you liked dick, Friday.”

Friday makes a face like she smelled something bad.

Friday isn’t a lesbian, but Paul thinks she is. When she first started, he hit on her pretty hard, and she started talking about one of her girlfriends one night. He assumed she’s g*y. She and I were working late one night, and she admitted to me that she’s not. She likes men. It’s just easier working around a bunch of them when they think she’s a lesbian. I haven’t set Paul straight yet. It’s too funny watching him with her. She’s one of the guys, and I like her that way. I couldn’t think of her as a girl if I tried, and that was before I even met Reagan.

Friday takes Emily and Reagan with her around the corner to get a hot dog. They leave, and I can’t keep from laughing while Paul watches the sway of Friday’s ass. He grins at me and shrugs.

“Dude, you’re not getting in her pants,” I say.

“I can look,” he tosses out, still grinning.

A boy runs in the door carrying a box. This happens a lot in our neighborhood. Kids need to eat, and they take any opportunity they can to make a buck. “Do you want to buy one?” he asks, and he shows me what’s in the box.

“How much?” I ask.

“Five dollars,” he says.

I give him a ten and reach into the box, pulling my purchase out.

“You are not bringing that thing home with you,” Paul warns. “What if it’s sick?”

Oh shit. What if it’s sick? I stuff it into my hoodie pocket, making sure it can breathe. “I’ll take it to the vet.”

“You better do that before you give it to her. Her dog just died, dummy.”

“Fine. I’ll be back in a little while.” I turn back to Paul. “Do you have any cash?” I grin at him.