Free The Grey Tier by Unknown

side of Hannah’s bed to ask her how the concert was. She wasn’t there. I panicked and woke my mother, who woke my father. The police were called. They found her bike only half a mile away up the road from the house. Her friends said she never made it to Riley’s Diner where they’d agreed to meet. I never have copped to the fact I knew she had snuck out. The guilt eats at me daily.
    I stood and poured the rest of the beer on the lawn next to the pool. Cass and Mac remained indoors, curled up tightly next to each other. Against all odds, they had become fast friends. I was kind of jealous, because it meant I only had a beer to provide comfort while they had each other.
    As the sun slowly dipped towards the ocean and the sky turned a myriad of oranges, pinks, and reds, I decided to make myself a BLT. Suddenly, I had two loyal fans next to me in the kitchen. Behold, the magic of bacon! Mac walked a figure eight between my legs, and Cass twirled in circles as if she were dancing.
    “Fine! I give in.” I pointed the knife down towards Mac. “Don’t think this means I’ve forgotten about your diet, mister.” I then shifted my gaze to Cass, “I see you’re teaching Mac all your bad habits.”
    “Trust me. I don’t think he needs her help,” a male voice responded.
    I jumped, nearly slicing off my thumb. I immediately changed my grip on the knife, holding it more like a weapon and less like something I’d just been using to slice tomatoes.
    “Who’s there?” My voice quivered, not nearly as threatening as I would have liked.
    No one answered, but Cass started to growl and Mac stopped brushing against my legs.
    “Hello?” I could hear the tremor in my voice. I did a quick search around the kitchen and nearby family room. Nothing. I went back to prepping my sandwich.
    “I’m losing my mind. Maybe I should go home, back to Texas.”
    I turned on the stove and buttered the bread. And then I thought I heard sounds in the family room. I cautiously walked out of the kitchen, my animal entourage following closely behind. Again, nothing. The hair on my arms stood straight up but I reluctantly turned my back on the empty room and returned to the kitchen. A small billow of smoke curled up from the frying pan . . . the bread! I shut off the stove, leaned my back against the counter with my head down, and started crying again.
    And that’s when it happened.
    “No woman, no cry. Nooooo woman, nooo cry.”
    What in the hell?
    “Little sister, don’t shed no tears. . . .”
    Either I was dreaming, or Nick’s murder had finally pushed me over the edge. Because when I looked up, Bob Marley stood in the middle of my kitchen, guitar in hand, singing.
    Cass stared and Mac, the fat little traitor, moved between Bob’s legs and started doing the figure eight thing there. Bob-frigging-Marley! In my kitchen!! Bob was smiling, the smell of pot drifting in the air, and I was, quite frankly, shocked speechless.
    And then (I know, right? As if Bob Marley in my kitchen weren’t enough) . . .
    . . . a gorgeous specimen of a man wandered in and leaned back on the counter next to the dishwasher, just a few feet from where I stood with my mouth hanging open. The knife, which I’d been clasping for dear life, clattered to the floor with a sharp bang.
    The guy was in soft, muted colors . . . like he’d been digitally altered. Between dead-Bob Marley and Sexy Kitchen Guy, my brain was spinning, and all I could think was how much better Bob sounded live (no pun intended). As for Cass, well, she was completely mesmerized by the scene. We all stood there for a moment . . . all of us, that is, except Mac, who continued to wind his way through Bob’s legs. Suddenly, the sexy guy sort of floated over to my side. His edges sharpened and he got a lot brighter (think Technicolor). He reached out and gently wiped the damp tear trail off my cheek. I could feel the brush of his fingers on my skin . . . but his touch was not like anything I’d ever