“Hey!”
“C’mon, Malone. You’ve gotta admit it’s at least a little bit funny,” I said while holding my thumb and forefinger close together. “They’re ladybugs, not roaches or snakes or ... deviant chinchillas.”
The corners of his mouth twitched.
I almost had him.
“Could be ferrets or alligators or”—here I paused to genuinely shudder—“rats.”
“Did you do this?”
“No.”
But I may or may not have put the wheels in motion.
I was still weighing whether I wanted to admit my culpability when someone at the door cleared their throat dramatically. Addie, arms crossed over her chest in a sassy pose, skewered Malone with a stare and said “Look what you made me do” before flouncing upstairs.
“What was that all about?” Malone asked.
I pressed my lips together in the hopes of not laughing. Oh, I was not the true Little Miss Petty of Bel Air Apartments. All I could say to that was what she herself might:Slay, queen, slay.
After a few minutes of research, which consisted of alternately scrolling down my phone and gently swatting the bugs that insisted on flying around my face, I finally asked, “Do you have a vacuum?”
“No.”
Of course he didn’t have a vacuum. The man didn’t have a kitchen table. Probably slept on a mattress on the floor like a frat boy who’d used his furniture allowance to buy beer.
“Do you have one?”
“Of course not. That was Ken’s vacuum cleaner. I told myself I’d buy one when I moved in, but I’ve had other pressing concerns.”
“What about Mrs. Q?”
I checked my watch. “We have four minutes beforeWheel of Fortuneor else we’ll have to wait until after it’s over.”
“I’m going.” Malone raced out the door but then popped back into the doorway. “Is there a special kind of vacuum cleaner that we need?”
“One that’s easy to empty,” I said. “Oh, and see if either she or April has a spray bottle.”
“Spray bottle?”
“Ladybugs don’t like the smell of peppermint, and I happen to have some essential oil.”
“Essential oil? Huh. Maybe then a massage?”
“The day’s not over,” I said. That got him in motion.
Vacuuming up the bugs and then taking them outside to release them was a laborious process. It took several trips. So many trips. Onwhat we hoped to be the last one, Malone nudged me. “You know why ladybugs are the most observant insects, right?”
“No, why?”
“They’re always . . . spot on.”
I groaned. “How long have you been—and I use this word loosely—refining that joke?”
“Since the second trip outside,” he said with a grin.
“You’re incorrigible, Malone. Please tell me you don’t have any other puns.”
