Free Teardrop Lane by Emily March

takes an earthquake to move her off of it.”
    Flynn nodded his agreement and sighed. “True enough. By the way, don’t you think it’s time you dropped that nickname you have for my wife-to-be?”
    Cicero considered the question. He knew the term needled Flynn. That’s why he used it every chance he got. What were friends for if not to give one another grief? He shook his head. “Maybe after the wedding. So, you mentioned another reason for visiting this morning?”
    “Oh, yeah.” Flynn rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m here to give you a heads-up. Ms. Granite Head is bummed that she’s not here to give you this news herself, and don’t think I refrained from pointing out that the nuptial extravaganza is the cause. Anyway, the way she tells it, sometime last fall, she decided you should participate in this thing, but she knew you’d say no, so she took it upon herself to throw your hat into the ring.”
    Warily, Cicero asked, “What ring?”
    “Have you ever heard of the Albritton Fellowship?”
    Cicero shook his head.
    “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
    “I didn’t think it would. You’re not the type to bother with competitions.”
    “Competitions?” A seed of anger sprouted within him. “What has Gabi done?”
    “She submitted your work for consideration for the Albritton, and they’re announcing the three finalists this morning. You’re one of them. Gabi had put her cell number on the application, but she was halfway to Denver when they called. She told them you wouldn’t be available to speak with them until this afternoon in order to give me time to come by here and clue you in. She’s afraid you would blow off the phone call if you didn’t know what it’s about.”
    “I will blow them off. I don’t do competitions.”
    “You really should do this one, Cicero,” Flynn said with a knowing smirk. “The prizes are substantial. As a finalist, you’re already assured of a cash award—if you participate, that is. If you were to win, there’s a fellowship that pays an additional stipend for a year. Not to mention the boost you’d surely get from all the publicity. The Albritton is a big hairy deal, and apparently, you’re the first glass artist to ever make the finalist cut.”
    “I don’t enter contests.”
    “Then you’ll be throwing away a minimum of fifty grand.”
    Fifty grand?
Cicero sat up straight. “What did you say?”
    “Second place is one hundred and first place is a cool quarter mil.”
    “Mil—what? Million? The winner’s prize is two hundred fifty thousand dollars?”
    “Plus the stipend of the same amount.”
    “Holy hell. What do you have to do to win? Kill someone?”
    “Actually, I think you’d have to create something in your medium.”
    “How many somethings?”
    “Just one, I think. I don’t know all the details. That’s the information you’ll be given in the phone call. You can get online and read about it, too. Now, back to Gabi. You’re a ladies’ man. Do you have any ideas for me about how to win her over to my way of thinking?”
    Cicero couldn’t drag his attention away from the half-million-dollar dangle. Distractedly, he said, “Try sex.”
    “What do you mean, try sex? That’s the whole problem here. I want to have more of it, and that means she needs to be there.”
    “That’s all I have, Brogan. Frankly, it’s all I ever need. Not that I’ve ever wanted a woman to move in with me, mind you. I tend to have the opposite problem. Once I take them to bed, I have a hard time getting them to leave.”
    “You are such an egotistical ass, Cicero.”
    “Just telling the truth, my man. Just telling the truth.”
    They traded insults a bit more in the manner of good male friends, before Flynn took his leave. The moment the door shut behind his friend, Cicero opened his laptop and keyed in a search for Albritton Fellowship.
    It was a biennial contest for artists of any medium. And the prizes really were what Brogan had claimed. He scanned