Page 70 of Fall for Him

“And you, Mr. Gallagher—” She pointed at him. “I know you lied to me before about the dog because I saw that very animal in your vehicle last night. I’ve been watching out my window the last twenty-four hours. All of your going back and forth between apartments. You won’t get away with this.” Carol took this opportunity to point a neon-orange acrylic nail between Felicity and Dylan. “This one’s probably raking in millions in dirty pornography money with that unnecessary, hyperfast internet connection. I heard all sorts of pornographic noises coming from his apartment last night. I can go into more detail when I file a criminal report.”

Felicity’s face screwed up. “Please do not go into more detail.”

“Those matching tattoos could possibly be some sort of gang symbol.” She gestured between Dylan’s forearm and Felicity’s wrist.

Felicity seethed. “It’s the outline of Ireland.”

“Didn’t the Irish criminals in that movie with what’s-his-name and that other one that showed his whosiewhatsit in that other film have matching tattoos?”

Derek, the two cops, and Dylan all stared blankly.

Felicity was quickest on the draw, pretending to hit an imaginary game show buzzer first. “Who are Leonardo DiCaprio and Mark Wahlberg in The Departed for five hundred, Alex. Side note, y’all, I think a lot of Scorsese’s overrated.” She shrugged as casually as if they didn’t have two cops trying to figure out if one or all of them should be arrested for breaking into an apartment that had never been broken into or for being in an illicit amateur porn ring that didn’t exist.

“She sure seems to know a lot about that film, doesn’t she?” Carol said with a sneer.

“Caught me there. Super suspicious to know about a movie that won a boatload of Oscars. Officers, just cuff me now.” She held out her wrists.

Dylan kneaded his temples. “Felicity, can you please just shut up?” Couldn’t he go back to bantering about blow jobs and making lumber euphemisms with Derek? He liked that part of the day.

“Sorry.” Felicity directed the apology at Dylan. “He’s my brother. And I can’t believe I have to say these words out loud, but he’s definitely not an internet porn star.”

It took another twenty-seven minutes for the officers to accept that yes, Felicity was indeed there to help with drywall work. And also yes, the dust in her hair was, in fact, from working with said drywall and not from any kind of “coke-fueled hooker ring” or any other sort of “depraved shenanigans.”

As the officers finally started to leave, Felicity posited—loudly—that the Depraved Shenanigans would make a great name for an Irish punk band.

While Dylan’s sister’s chosen anxiety response had always been explosive verbal diarrhea, he found it more annoying than usual today. “Felicity, for the love of god—”

“C’mon Dylan, can’t you imagine someone being like ‘Yeah, I’m going to see the Depraved Shenanigans tonight at the Vic. Sounds so killer.”

Breaking away from her rant at the cops, Carol shrieked, “I think she just said ‘Let’s kill her.’ I’m not going to be safe at night in my own bed. Don’t you see why I was suspicious?”

“Lissy!”

“Ms. Gallagher, you need to take this a little more seriously,” one of the cops said before exchanging a look with his partner that said nothing happening was serious beyond their wasted time.

“I—I—” Felicity exhaled. “I was doing pro bono drywalling work for my brother’s cash-strapped neighbor—”

“Hey!” Derek said.

Felicity gesticulated at Carol like a crossing guard hired to host a game show. “And now some random lady wants me arrested for having arm tattoos and breasts. I’m really doing the best I can here.”

Carol actually stamped her foot. “Not for the tattoos and the breasts. For the drugs.”

“For the last time, Carol, there are no drugs in or associated with my home.” Derek braced a hand on top of his head as if worried it might explode. “Either of our homes for that matter.”

Frustration must have outpaced Derek’s amusement watching Carol being grilled by the police. Outwardly, he’d stayed the calmest until now.

“Go ahead and ask that one about his eye.” Carol gestured to Derek’s still healing shiner. “If that doesn’t say violence, I don’t know what does. Were you lying about snaking his toilet drain the other day? Is this some Fifty Shades of Grey–type debauchery?”

“How’d we get to S&M sex dungeon?” Felicity muttered.

“Felicity.” Dylan palmed his head.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Kare—Carol, but I was assaulted by a patient while working in the Memorial Hospital ED.”

The officers gave him a sympathetic frown.

“Can we go inside please?” Dylan asked.

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