Dear Aunt Truth: We’ve been together for six months, but now he’s icing me out. What should I do? I love him more than life itself, but my brothers want to beat the snot out of him.
Dear Icing on Top: Have a little dignity and find a new man who is mature enough to talk to you about your relationship. And don’t send your brothers after him. What are you, five?
“You can take your inner needs and codependency crap and shove it, you jackass!”
“Calm down, Dan. I didn’t mean it like—”
“I heard what I heard. You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
Justine Ferrera peeked out from the stairwell and watched 2C, her tall, buff, too handsome-for-his-own-good downstairs neighbor, confront “Dan,” a tattoo-laden giant wearing a tank top and shorts, showcasing a lot of unforgiving muscle.
More swearing. A lot of intense glaring between the men that took on new meaning as they talked about an injured third party and feelings. Was this some kind of love triangle gone bad? Was she watching two men involved in a polyamorous relationship? Her eyes widened at the thought, which then bode the question: why could she never be the meat in a hot-guy sandwich?
“Oh man, love gone wrong in the best way,” her best friend murmured beside her. “All that hunky muscle, those sexy, testosterone-filled glares.” Katie sighed. “Yum.”
Justine shifted to see better. “What are they saying? It got quieter.”
“Now I can’t see. Move over,” Katie whispered. “I am so jealous you live here. Yesterday at my place, seventy-nine year old Mrs. Purcell was duking it out with the Super over her dying Christmas wreath. It’s the same thing every year. She tries to hold onto the brittle thing, needles everywhere, as long as she can. But by May, we’ve all had enough. My building is filled with old people battling over door decorations, laundry carts, and freight elevator access.” Katie paused. “Of course, I constantly struggle for the elevator and always end up carting my laundry around by the basket. Hmm. Maybe I should get in on those fights, might make my life a little easier.”
“Shh.” Justine clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth and stared in shock as angry Dan took a swing at the hottie from 2C.
But 2C somehow dodged and maneuvered around the brute, putting Dan in a headlock he couldn’t break out of.
She eyed the straining forearms and bulging biceps from 2C and indulged in a few rushed, heated fantasies.
“Super sexy,” her best friend said, muffled against Justine’s hand. Then the weirdo licked her.
“Ew.” She wiped her hand on Katie’s jeans. “You’re disgusting.”
2C glanced over and saw them staring. He grimaced. “Enough, Dan. My neighbors are going to call the police if this keeps up, and I don’t think you or I want any more drama. It’s over.” He relaxed his hold and pushed Dan away.
Dan gave him a courtesy one-fingered salute, turned, and breezed past Justine and Katie down the stairs, swearing all the while.
They exchanged a look. What now?
Katie shoved her into the hallway. After shooting daggers at her friend, Justine approached 2C with a bland smile.
He dragged a weary hand through hair colored a deep brown that bordered on auburn in the right light. Rocking the facial hair—a full goatee and beard lining a square jaw—he seemed a mix of tough guy and sensitive soul, judging from the apology in his expressive brown eyes.
“Bad breakup?” Katie asked, following behind Justine.
He sighed. “You could say that. Women suck.”
Well then, maybe not so much an apology as stupidity shining in those eyes.
“Men aren’t much better,” Justine muttered.
He frowned at her.
She frowned back.
“Should you be in this building?” His deep voice held more than a thread of disapproval.
Justine had no idea her neighbors lived such turbulent lives. Hadn’t her aunt told her the place was quiet and full of nice, fairly boring people? Having just settled into her aunt’s unit two weeks ago, she hadn’t yet met everyone in the cozy TCA—which sounded much cooler than Tuscan Cosmo Apartments. But this guy seemed anything but quiet or boring.
Time to introduce herself, apparently. “Hi. I’m Justine Ferrera. I think I’m above you in 3D. I’m subletting from my aunt.”
“You’re Rosie Gallo’s niece?” Instead of smiling, he looked her over with suspicion.
“You’re—” being a bit of a dick. No. I can’t say that. One, Aunt Rosie will be coming back to live here at some point. I can’t make enemies with her neighbors. And two, I could never say something so rude.
“I’m what?” He raised a brow in challenge.
“Being a bit of a dick,” Katie said with a wide smile, reading Justine’s mind.
2C’s expression darkened.
“You’re just as nice as my aunt said you were,” Justine blurted, lying to keep the peace. “I mean, we heard you trying to deescalate the situation. Sorry we intruded.” She yanked Katie with her and fled for the stairwell. “Bye.”
Once on the ground floor and headed to their ride share, she let Katie yammer on and on about getting a backbone and facing bullies. Several minutes into their ride, Katie had yet to shut up about it.
“Okay, already. And ironic,” Justine cut in, “since you’ve been bullying me since we got in the car!”
“You really have,” their driver agreed, grinning at them in the rear-view. “But honey, it sounds like that guy upstairs was a jerk.”
Katie nodded. “Vindication. He totally was.” She turned back to Justine. “You need to stand up for yourself more.”
Justine groaned. “I’m trying. It’s not easy.” Not having been raised in her family with so many demands and expectations. No wonder she had issues. Her oldest sister acted like a tyrant, the second oldest like a doormat, and she fell somewhere in between, doing her best to avoid domineering parents.
“I know.” Katie punched her in the arm. “I’m sorry. I just hate when guys push people around. Especially when it seems like all the good-looking ones are assholes.”
“Preach,” the driver said.
Justine would have been more annoyed, but the girl power solidarity felt good. Then their driver mentioned a few hidden gems nearby, restaurants and shops Justine would have to check out later. She’d previously lived in Seattle’s Beacon Hill neighborhood, so Fremont was a change for her. A good one, though, she kept telling herself, trying to believe it.
When they arrived at the club, Justine noticed a small group of guys waiting by the side, one of whom she recognized as Katie’s other best friend. She swallowed a groan. “You promised tonight would just be for us to hang out and commiserate over how much we hate our jobs.”
“And how much we hate our bosses—although mine just left and I love the new gal. But hey, we’re going to bitch and complain, sure. And maybe you hit it off with a few friends I invited. The male kind.” Katie exaggerated her wink.
“You know, my head is starting to hurt. I might have a cough too.” Justine gave a few fake coughs, but Katie wasn’t buying it.
“Nice try.” The car stopped, and they left with a goodbye and hefty tip to their driver. “Get the lead out, Ferrera. Your ovaries aren’t going to wake up if there’s no one to greet them in the morning.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Justine pasted on a smile as they approached Katie’s friends.
“It means you’re going to thank me tomorrow.”
“Or I’ll be cursing your name while battling a hangover and regretting a terrible Friday night where the men have no game.”
“Or that. Either way, you’re going. So move.”