Mon could of kicked herself when she thought back to that moment Fats Foley asked her to put a new lock on Jack Spark’s apartment door. It felt like a hundred years ago, though it had barely been a month.
“I been havin’ a little trouble with the fuckin’ guy,” Fats had said.
Those were his exact words. And where else had she heard them? Right, Jack had said pretty much the same thing about Fats, without the F word. Each of them wanted something from the other. Well, why did they have to drag her into it? Why couldn’t they duke it out for themselves? That’s what she was thinking, Mon, roaming aimlessly through the streets of Santa Monica. Jack couldn’t really believe she’d broke his lock herself and invaded his apartment? Could he? Next thing you know, he’d believe she stood by the side of
