Page 158 of Bone’s Choice

Ma moved toward the bar. “This clubhouse needs a woman’s touch.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It absolutely does,” she sang.

“We’re fine,” I insisted.

“You have three different shoes by the couch and none of them match.”

I looked toward the couch. There were, in fact, three shoes. I had no fucking idea who they belonged to. “They’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure they will.” Ma set the bottles on the bar. “Where are your cleaning supplies?”

I stared at her. “What?”

“Cleaning supplies.”

“We have some.”

“I didn’t ask if you had them; I asked where they are.”

I looked at Myth.

He looked at me.

Ma sighed. “Jesus Christ.”

“We have cleaning shit,” I insisted.

“Where?”

I ran my hand over my head. “Ask Munch.”

“Why would the prospect know?”

“Because he cleans,” I said.

“That is what prospects do,” Myth chimed in.

Ma put her hands on her hips. “Clearly not enough.”

Hazel laughed.

I looked at her again. This time she didn’t bother pretending she wasn’t. “You think this is funny?”

“A little.”

“Wait until she wrangles you into this. You think you are just here by coincidence?”

Hazel’s laughter stopped.

Ma smiled.

“No,” Hazel said immediately.

I almost laughed.

Ma pointed at her. “Smart girl, but you’re not going to get out of this.”