Ryker (The Powers That Be Book 4) by Harper Bentley Page B

drunk. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”
    Sharee nodded in agreement and I shook my head at both of them.
    “’Kay! I’m outta here! You guys be good!” Gladys announced giving us both a hasty hug before going through security. She turned and gave us one last wave and then she was gone.
    “Makes me sad when she’s gone,” Sharee declared as we turned to leave.
    “Yeah,” I concurred. “I miss her.”
    Back at the apartment, Sharee went back to bed while I did laundry and prepared for the coming week. I had minimal lesson plans to write up for PE and only needed to wash jeans to wear, so I was finished in no time. I checked the grocery list on the fridge and decided to do some shopping. Knowing Mrs. Bertolini probably needed a few things, I climbed the stairs to her apartment and knocked on the door.
    “Hello, Francesca!” she exclaimed when she opened her door. “Come on in!”
    I loved Mrs. B’s apartment. It always had a faint smell of Chanel No° 5 with a hint of bread baking, her artwork displayed on every wall and sculptures in every corner. I’d spent an entire afternoon and into the evening with her a couple years ago learning about each piece she’d done and it’d been fascinating. She’d sold a lot of them, having posted them on a website that her daughter, who lived in San Francisco, had set up for her. It was amazing to know that each piece sold anywhere from one-hundred dollars well into the thousands. Mrs. B had tried giving me a painting before I left the day she’d told me about her work, but I’d refused telling her I hoped to have enough money to buy one some day soon.
    “Hi, Mrs. Bertolini. I’m going to the grocery store and wanted to know if you needed anything?”
    “I do! But come in and have a cup of tea with me first.”
    Sharee and I tried visiting with her at least once a week since she lived alone, but she was so busy with the senior center and managing her website that she was in no way lonely. Usually, we were the ones who sought her out if we were bored or craving company.
    “What’re you hooked on this week?” I asked with a smile since she was always changing her flavors.
    “An apple cinnamon herbal that’s to die for!”
    “Sounds great! I’ll get it started.” I’d been by so often that I knew where she kept everything. I mean, it wasn’t hard since the teakettle was always on the stovetop, but I knew the tea was in the cabinet at the top and to the left of the oven and the cups and spoons were on the right.
    As I filled the kettle with water she jumped right in. “So who was that young man you were kissing last night?” I turned to her, mouth dropped wide open. “It’s not polite to let your mouth hang open, dear.” She winked and gave a little chuckle.
    “How could you see that?” I asked, putting the kettle on the burner and turning it on. “And what were you doing up that late?”
    She chuckled louder. “You forget I’ve got twenty-twenty vision and I was still awake getting some paintings ready to ship.”
    I shook my head and leaned against the counter, arms across my chest. “He’s just a guy I know.”
    “From the way it looked, he’s more than that to you.”
    I shrugged. “I’d like for him to be but he doesn’t want more.” I got the teacups and saucers out of the cabinet and put them on the counter. “Besides, he says the crudest things anyway.”
    As I got spoons out of the drawer, she answered, “And he looked like he wanted more too, honey. Men don’t grab onto a woman the way he was holding you without it meaning something.”
    Hm.
    “And he’s a dirty talker too… my Marco had a filthy mouth which added so much to our sex life. Spicy!”
    Oh, my God. I actually dropped the box of tea on the floor and couldn’t help wanting to put my fingers in my ears and chant a ditty so I didn’t hear any more of what she had to say.
    She laughed. “I know I’m ‘grossing you out’ but I’m telling you, when Marco