Free 1 Hot Scheming Mess by Lucy Carol

a clown who can be there in an hour.” Clients could be pretty understanding if given a little explanation.
    She needed to call Phil immediately.
    Her cell phone was back in her living room, so she snatched her tote bag and the sad little paper bag with the smashed whole grain raisin roll out of the car and ran across the parking lot back up to her apartment.
    She just needed to think of an explanation as she ran. In her mind she offered varying explanations but none of them sounded right.
    “Phil, I’ve been vomiting nonstop since dawn!”
    No. I’ve used that one before.
    She reached the stairs and took them two at a time.
    “Phil, there were vicious foaming dogs in their driveway, trying to attack me through the car window!”
    No. Phil loves dogs.
    Reaching the top of the stairs, she ran down the hallway to her door.
    “Phil, dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course I did the gig. What? They told you I never showed? Why those awful people.”
    She ran into her apartment and found ExBoy standing in her living room holding the box, shaking it and… smelling it?
    “What are you doing ?” she screamed.
    He was so startled he dropped the box with a loud clang and the lid popped open. In a panic, Madison ran and dove on top of it protecting it with her arms, her body splayed out flat on the floor. She yelled, “Would you please just go?” She was terrified of what might have fallen out. Body parts? Counterfeit money? Vintage girly magazines? She made sure the lid was closed but not enough to lock.
    “After I get my lucky t-shirt back. I need it for the convention. And then we need to talk.” He walked off into the bedroom.
    Incredulous, she called, “What lucky t-shirt?”
    From the bedroom she heard, “The one I left here the day I helped you move?”
    Oh. She remembered. She thought of it as the almost-lucky t-shirt. The shirt had a picture of a baby zombie with a little fistful of brains and a caption that said Ready For Solid Food.
    “What convention?” she demanded. She needed to wrap this up and make him leave fast.
    “Zombie Prom. It’s a zombie convention.”
    “Zombies don’t have conventions!”
    “In this town they do.”
    She called, “Damn it, ExBoy, I can return it to you later! You shouldn’t have left it here.”
    Still in her bedroom, he said, “You’re in danger, Madison.”
    “What?” Adrenaline hit her.
    “Seriously. This room is going to get fed up with your neglect and attack you in your sleep.”
    “Get out! ”
    He appeared at the doorway placing his forearm up on the doorframe. “I can’t find it.” Leaning there he studied her. “You’re dressed like a princess but all messed up. Did you get in a princess fight?”
    “I’m not a princess,” she growled. “I’m a fairy godmother.”
    “Oh. Magical throwdown. Did you utter incantations then drop your wand like a rap artist?”
    Her teeth gritted, she said, “We’re about to have a throwdown right now.”
    He tilted his head with a sly smile on his face. “Very seductive. But it’s not going to work. I’m leaving.”
    “Good.”
    “What are you hiding? What’s in that thing?”
    “Go!”
    “Fine. But we have to talk later.” His posture tightened up a bit. “I can’t put it off any more.” Heading for the door he added, “Oh, your grandpa called. I saw his name on your cell screen. I like that old guy.” ExBoy walked out and she heard the door close.
    Damn it, I missed his call. She rose to her hands and knees and scrambled over to the spot on the floor where she had left the phone. It said Missed Call on its screen. But it also said Voicemail. Yes! She punched in the numbers to retrieve her voicemail and listened as Grandpa’s soft mumble mixed with the key tones.
    “Damned thing… (deet, doot) few days (deeeeeeeet) but don’t (doot, doot)…” There were sporadic words in the background that sounded like overhead announcements, the word “departure” grabbing her