A Taste of Mint (Neighborly Gestures part 1)
Leto Armitage
One
I was hoping to see something blonde and well-stacked, and that's exactly what I got. Just not in the form I wanted.
“Shannon.” I acknowledged my former sister-in-law the same way I would a hyena on meth that insisted on speaking to me. She was immaculately dressed in black slacks and a cream blouse. The jade pendant she wore on a silver chain, the gold bracelets, and her wedding ring completed the look. It was all very tasteful. In her late 30s, Shannon was definitely worth the MILF label.
I grew up in this house, and Shannon and her husband, Greg, bought the one next door when I married Susan. Now the sister is gone, and I would be a lot happier if both of them were. The divorce might have left me with issues.
“Adam.” It was late afternoon, and she stared at my pajama bottoms and rumpled Sex Pistols T-shirt. “Just getting up?”
“Up from a nap,” I said yawning. “One of the joys of being a, what was it you called me, irresponsible wastrel, is that I can nap whenever I like.” Her cringe told me she wanted something. That made me curious, so I opened the door wider. “Wanna come in?”
Shannon passed me with a brief nod, and she kept nodding as she took in my living room. “Your place is very nice,” she said approvingly.
“By which you mean you’re surprised I don’t have neon beer signs in here?”
“I didn’t say that,” she replied. The smile on her face would have convinced me if I didn’t know her better.
“Indeed." I made a direct line to the wet bar. "It’s hardly a collection, but even I can coordinate brown and beige items from a catalog. And I have the cleaner come in three times a week. Can I get you a drink?”