“Umm…I’m here to speak with Tasha Lewis.” Stiff was definitely the appropriate word.
“That’s me. I’m Tosh, uh…Tasha. Lewis.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I’m Tasha Lewis.” I’d somehow gone brain dead and couldn’t figure out how to form a full sentence. Toying with the hair piled on top of my head, I immediately felt underdressed, which was absurd since I’d answered my door in my own apartment. “What can I do for you…um…?”
“Ty Sandoval,” he said and stuck out his hand, which I didn’t take. “I work for your sister. You look different than I anticipated.” He tapped his bottom lip with his index finger while gazing intently at me. “It’ll have to do.”
What in the name of blazing saddles did he mean by it’ll have to do? I glanced down at my loosely fitted sweatpants and bare feet. When I looked up, I caught him examining my ripped AC/DC shirt with its elegant pizza stain on my left boob. His brow creased slightly and his gaze narrowed, telling me two things: one, he was familiar with Botox, and two, something about me left him perplexed. However, it did nothing to hide the disgust curling his top lip.
“May I come in?” He flicked his attention from my eyes to over my shoulder and then back to me again, as if he couldn’t understand why I hadn’t invited him into my humble abode yet.
“Oh, where are our manners?” Dave stepped in front of me and held the door with one hand. Too bad he was an inch shorter than my five-foot-ten height and did nothing to block my sight of Ty. “Absolutely…not. We have no idea who you really are. For all we know, you’ll gag us and steal our valuables.”
Ty quirked one brow, humor dancing at the corners of his mouth. Although, he didn’t exactly seem to find any of this funny. “I highly doubt there’s anything in there worthy of stealing. Plus, I told you, I’m Ty Sandoval. I work for Tasha’s sister, Tiffany; I’m actually her assistant.”
“Wait…” Dave turned to the side and pressed his back against the opened door to look at me without facing away from Ty. Instead of commenting on the rather rude remark of us not possessing anything of value, he asked, “Is he talking about Tiff?”
“She’s the only sister I have, Dave,” I deadpanned.
“The hot to your not?”
“That’s totally offensive.”
“The Tiffany Lewis, who back in high school used to—”
“Tell everyone that you’d put on her clothes and dance around my room to Madonna’s Like a Virgin?” I crossed my arms and flashed my roommate a smug grin. “Yeah, that’d be the same sister he’s talking about. My twin sister. The only one I have. I’m not quite sure how much more clarification you need.”
“Listen, guys…” Ty was either bored or annoyed. Or both. Possibly even a bit disgruntled if his full inhale and rushed exhale were any indication. “As entertaining as this is”—total sarcasm—“I really do need to speak to Miss Lewis about her sister.”
“Oh, yeah…sure. Please, come in.” I took a step back and yanked Dave away from the door, giving Ty enough room to walk inside. “Don’t mind my roommate. I found him in the park and felt bad for him; I think he lost his owners, so I let him stay here. Little guy refuses to leave.” I scrunched my nose and ruffled Dave’s hair.
He shoved my hand away and closed the door. Standing behind Ty, he gyrated his hips and mouthed, “The hot twin,” adding a pelvic thrust to each word. Ty must’ve sensed something, because he turned around, catching Dave’s last air hump, in which Dave began to act cool and walk it off.
At least it made me laugh.
“Don’t mind me,” Dave called over his shoulder on the way to the couch. “I’ll just take this pizza up to my room and give you two some alone time.” He took the box upstairs, and a moment later, the sound of his door closing traveled down to the living room.
“Sorry about that. He can be a little…” I started, trying to fight off the grin forming on my lips. I could just imagine Dave sitting at the top of the steps with the pizza box in his lap, listening to this entire conversation.
Ty waved me off and moved toward the sofa. “May I sit?”
Shrugging, I followed suit. I didn’t miss the way he brushed the cushion with his hand before sitting, or the invisible dirt he wiped from the thighs of his pants. The least he could do was attempt to hide his blatant disgust over the environment of my place. After all, it wasn’t like I had invited him here or anything.
“So, as I was saying, I’m here to discuss Tiffany. There’s been a bit of…an issue. She’s a little under the weather, and she has asked that I come speak to you on her behalf.”
“Oh…” I rolled my eyes. “You mean, Queen Bee is taking a sick day?”
“Well, not quite.” He shifted in his seat, seeming to be slightly uncomfortable. “You see, the situation is a little more…complicated than that. But she wanted me to make you aware of the…situation.”
Concern immediately washed over me. “Oh my God, just spit it out already. Stop with the unnecessary pauses and tell me what you came here for. What’s the issue? What situation is she in? And for the love of Lara Croft, how complicated is it?”
Tiff always had a way of making me feel insignificant. When we were five, she made me wait two minutes to blow out my birthday candles, which resulted in a layer of wax on my cake. Needless to say, no one wanted any of my cake. She started her period in seventh grade, and when I hadn’t gotten mine, she told Lindsey Pierce and the rest of their group that
