Free Hack by Kieran Crowley Page B

me.”
    “Uh… Sorry. What the hell would they do that for?”
    “I got beat three times in a row. Not supposed to happen.”
    “That’s ridiculous. Don’t you have a union?” I asked.
    “Of course not. Neither do you.”
    “Right. Sorry. How are your brothers?”
    “Very embarrassed. Sean has a big lump on his head and Mickey’s arm is in a cast. Did you really do that yourself?”
    Her tone made it clear she didn’t think I could even beat
her
up.
    “Why did you send them to kick my ass?”
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I get… carried away. My job is very important to me.”
    “You’re kinda crazy, aren’t you?”
    We gaped at each other and then she burst into tears. It was the last thing I expected. I wanted to close the door. She began sobbing, using the
Mail
as a handkerchief. It was very absorbent. Her eye makeup was smeared; she looked like a raccoon. She got control of herself and turned away, pawing at her eyes.
    “Wait. Is my mascara running? I must look hideous.”
    “Uhm, no. I mean yes. It’s all smeared. But you look great.”
    “Can I use a mirror for a second?”
    I hesitated but let her go into my bathroom. She shut the door but I left the front door open. I heard water running. Ten full minutes later, she emerged looking terrific, as if nothing had happened. Except one more button on her creamy blouse was open, revealing a lot of cleavage. I struggled not to look. She noticed and coyly buttoned up.
    “Thanks,” she said in a brave voice, going up on tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. “Sorry.”
    But she veered and suddenly her tongue was in my mouth, the rest of her pressing against me. I felt electricity from her chest rubbing on mine but I knew it wasn’t static. She slid her manicured nails through my hair and pulled me closer, her other hand around my back, gently forcing our hips together. More electricity. I was cooked. I swung the front door shut with my free arm and put it to better use. She was making sweet whimpering noises in her throat, as we stumbled toward the bedroom. We fell in a tangle onto the unmade bed. Totally cooked.
    Turns out Ginny’s hair color was natural. Trust me. So was the rest of her. We spent several hours singing the body electric, taking breaks to drink arak and nibble Pop Tarts.
    When I heard the key in the lock, I pulled on a pair of shorts and ran to the door. Mary Catherine stopped in the doorway, a brass key in hand, and stared at me.
    “Did I wake you?”
    “Yes. No. I was just…”
    “Who is it, Shepherd?” Ginny called from the bed. One of Mary Catherine’s eyebrows arched up. I wish I could do that. She actually blushed, her creamy cheeks going peach.
    “Really?” Mary Catherine said, turning in the doorway and dropping her key on the small table there. “I didn’t know you had company. I’m sorry to interrupt.”
    She turned to go but stopped.
    “Shepherd, have you heard from Al?”
    “No.”
    “I heard they just got home.”
    “That’s great,” I said.
    “You should give Al a call.”
    “Sure,” I said.
    When I didn’t say anything more, she was gone. I let her go and returned to Ginny.
    “Sorry,” Ginny said, with dubious sincerity. “Was that your girlfriend? I hope I haven’t caused you any problems.”
    “No. She… she was mad at me anyway.”
    “Who’s Al?” Ginny asked.
    “Old friend. Somebody I used to work with. Nobody you know,” I answered.
    I excused myself and took another shower. When I got out, Ginny was gone. So was my copy of the Aubrey/McDonald’s DVD and several notebooks. All the drawers in my bedroom, kitchen and desk were open, ransacked. I laughed.
    “Cooked,” I said out loud to no one. “Twice.”

18.
    The cathedral of soiled sandstone soared above Fifth Avenue but was literally overshadowed by newer, taller sectarian skyscrapers. Inside, the hiss of many voices rose in the cool echoing space between the giant marble columns and glowing stained glass, as relaxing as a