Bowled Over by Kasey Michaels

Author:Kasey Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2010-08-11T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Socks ran out into the street to assist Maggie from the rental car, helping her hop to the curb and then stepping away from her, bowing to her three times, his arms stretched out in front of him. “All hail, all hail!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Socks?” Maggie asked as Sterling brought her the walker from the backseat.

“I’m bowing to brilliance, of course. Maggie Kelly won the big jackpot. Three-point-something mill-ion dollars. Quick, rub my arm. Give me some of your luck.”

“You’re an idiot,” Maggie said, pushing past him. “You have no idea how much trouble that jackpot has caused me.” But he took hold of her arm, holding her back.

“I think I do, Maggie. You don’t want to go in there. Not until I clean out the place.”

“Clean it out of what?” Maggie asked him, eyeing the doorway to the condo building with some trepidation. “And don’t tell me someone else mailed me a rat. That joke isn’t funny anymore.”

Socks looked to his left and right, as if expecting attack from some unknown quarter. “No. Not rats. Leeches.”

Maggie grimaced, feeling sick. “That’s not funny, Socks. Rats aren’t funny. Roaches aren’t funny, either, but at least most of them are native New Yorkers and will outlive us all. But leeches aren’t funny. Not even a little bit.”

“I know. And these are human leeches. They started showing up here the minute the newspapers identified you as the big winner in A.C. I’ve been keeping them out, keeping them away. But it’s cold, you know, and I felt sorry for a couple of them. Such sad stories, Maggie. Every one of them had a sad story, and every one of them thought I needed to hear it. I think they were practicing on me.”

Maggie hopped backward, planning a hasty retreat. “You’ve got people in the lobby now, Socks? That isn’t allowed. Damn it, Socks, it’s not allowed.” That last was, unfortunately, even to her own ears, a bit of a whine.

“Okay, okay, so give me a minute to get rid of them, all right? It’s just the guy with the warts all over his chin and Mrs. O’Reilly. She wants a bus ticket to Las Vegas, to visit her grandson—plane fare, if you can see it in your heart to keep an old woman off the bus. Except I don’t really think her name is O’Reilly, and I don’t think she has a grandson. And I guess I don’t have to tell you what the wart guy wants, huh? Money for wart removal. Hey I told you anyway! Sorry.”

“Warts all over his—? Never mind, just get rid of him. And the grandma, too. Wait. I’m going to regret asking this—but why don’t you think her name is O’Reilly?”

“Because she keeps saying begorra, and blessin’s o’ the Irish on ye, mate. With a Brooklyn accent you could slice salami with. You stay here, you and Sterling—hi ya, Sterlman—and I’ll boost them out of there.”

“Your first thought, and still a

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