Sweet Dreams (WJA Series Book 1)

Chapter 11

KIRK SLEPT MOST OF the weekend, only getting up to go to the bathroom and eat a doughnut or two in a dazed stupor. Geoff, he could see, had crashed on the living room couch. He vaguely remembered the two of them cleaning off old, rotten food wrappers and a pizza box that in the past year had molded and morphed into the size of a small animal.

Then there was the refrigerator. One look at the miniature city skyline of white and green fuzz—and one smell—had convinced him he’d be buying a new fridge.

But though his place had been sitting empty for over a year, it wasn’t in much worse shape than when he lived there. He had never cleaned the bathroom or washed dishes. If he wanted to eat off a plate, he just wiped it with his shirttail and called it good.

When he awoke, he discovered Geoff had picked up around the place and scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen. He didn’t remember his place ever being so clean.

His answering machine had dozens of messages from his boss, which he deleted without listening to them, and one from his ex-wife, which he also deleted. He also had one from his landlord, requesting him to come to the office to re-sign the lease for the next year.

He’d always paid his rent a year in advance with his tax return, so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. The utilities were included in the rent, so the place could run without human involvement for some time, which in this case it had.

He stirred from his hibernation on Monday morning to the smell of coffee and bacon drifting into his bedroom. He got out of bed with a moan and wandered into the living room in his boxers. “Good morning, Mr. Weston.” Geoff looked at his wild tangle of hair and laughed. “You look like a bear who just awakened from hibernation.”

Kirk grunted. The guy was always chipper. If it was going to be like this every morning, there could be a problem…like a slug in the jaw. He shuffled toward the kitchen. “I’m not yet sure if it is good or not, but it’s definitely morning.” He sat on a wooden stool that faced the kitchen counter and rubbed his eyes.

Geoff placed a cup of black coffee in front of him, followed by a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “You feeling better?” He sat on a stool next to him, sipping from a mug that said, “Don’t Drink And Drive—You Might Hit A Bump And Spill Your Beer.”

“Much better. I…uh…hey, what happened to my place?” He jumped up. Something was definitely wrong. He liked to live comfortably, but now the apartment looked as if it was a set for a television sitcom. Suddenly, he noticed the smell of bleach and pine, lemon, and something else he could not place.

Geoff laughed. “I cleaned, and I must say it wasn’t a pretty experience. You should get a maid.”

“Cleaned? My place was just fine the way it was. How am I supposed to find anything now?” Grumbling, he returned to his breakfast.

“I did your laundry and put your clean shirts in the closet. You’ll find your pants folded in the dresser.”

Kirk swore. “Man, you’re some kind of nutcase. I thought my ex was bad.” He wolfed down the food on his plate, then reached for more eggs and bacon. “But if you keep up this cooking, I’ll hire you to be my maid.”

Geoff stood to wash his plate in the sink. “I don’t think you have the money to hire me.”

“What do you mean? I’m loaded.” Kirk wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Geoff arched an eyebrow and began washing the skillet.

Kirk shoved a final forkful of food into his mouth. “Forget the dishes. We’ve got to get down to the station to see if we can give my boss man a heart attack.” He headed for the door.