Chapter Thirty Two
Irene’s eyebrows shot up. “Like me?”
Alex still had her hands in the dishwater but had forgotten the glass she held. “Yes, I guess. Like you.”
“But you didn’t like it,” Irene pressed.
“Ditz had a dog and I’m allergic to animal hair.”
“A dog? What fuckin’ dog?” All diplomacy was now lost to Irene.
“It was Scirocco’s dog,” Alex sharply defended herself. “Ditz was looking after Scirocco’s dog. Training it.”
Irene’s voice came up an octave. “Training it? Training it to do what, Alex. Do tricks?”
With a cry of anguish, Alex turned from the sink. She flicked water from her hands onto the cork flooring and then, covering her face, she slammed into the john and locked the door.
“Alex– Alex,” Irene tried. But the woman was sobbing so hard, Irene doubted if Alex could hea
