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is spotless most of the time anyway. Although, if you’re still stressed out tomorrow, you’re welcome to come clean my place.”
    On the television a woman was waking up, alone in a king-sized bed. Out of the corner of her eye Emma saw a couple walking toward the area of the lounge known as the Love Nest. Amorous couples often cuddled or made out among the mountain of floor pillows and blankets. Max flopped onto one of the pillows and gestured for a curvy, platinum blonde-haired woman to sit next to him. “Who the hell is that with Max?” she asked. Snuggling up with a Marilyn Monroe look-alike was not concentrating on his artwork, unless he had decided to write an erotic romance and was doing research. Heat radiated from Emma’s cheeks. Could a person explode from anger?
    “I think that’s the new performance artist who moved in on the fourth floor. Heard she goes to galleries, gets naked and paints herself with melted chocolate. I bet there are all kinds men who get chocolate cravings after they see that.” Daisy snickered. “I can just hear it. ‘Hey, baby. I’d be happy to help you clean up…using my tongue.’”
    Max’s grope fest had already reached “get a room” status, warranting jeers and cheers from other people gathered in the lounge. Emma shifted her position so she was facing Daisy and couldn’t see the horny couple. “Unbelievable.”
    Daisy leaned sideways to peer around her. “Sorry. Didn’t hear what you said. I’m too busy watching the live porno demonstration. Damn! That woman is flexible.”
    “Daisy, stop it! I don’t really care what she does or who she is. What I really want to know is what is Max doing with her?”
    “Um, duh, that’s pretty obvious.”
    Emma plucked a fluffy popcorn kernel out of Daisy’s bowl and flattened it between her thumb and index finger. “I don’t care that he obviously has a new girlfriend. What pisses me off is that he broke up with me so he could supposedly spend more time working on his art.”
    “I think he’s experimenting with a new art form.” Daisy wagged her eyebrows. “I bet she recruited him to help with her performances.”
     
     
     
    “Sorry I pulled you away from cleaning grout to watch the Max and Marilyn freak show. I had no idea he was screwing around with her.” Daisy inhaled. Nothing smelled better than fresh donuts. Would half a dozen be too much to eat after midnight? She broke off a chunk of the cinnamon sugar dusted piece of heaven sitting on her plate. It was still warm from its bath in sizzling, hot oil.
    Emma took a bite of her own donut. She licked a smear of chocolate icing off her top lip. “It was a good reminder of why I need stay away from men right now. Concentrating on artwork, even when I accidentally glue my fingers together, is better than dealing with a lying, cheating pervert.”
    “Good point, but all men aren’t creepy psychopaths like Max.” There was something wrong about a person obsessed with drawing decaying body parts. Max was probably a card-carrying member of The Future Serial Killers Club of America. “Some guys are really nice and have beautiful sisters, too.”
    “What? Beautiful sisters?” Emma asked. “I think the donut fumes are affecting your brain, because I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why did we come here instead of going back to one of our studios anyway?”
    “I thought we could talk during the movie, but Max ruined that. Then I figured you’d make me scrub your toilet or something if we went back to your place. My studio is a pig sty, so considering the mood you’re in you’d be so distracted by the mess you wouldn’t listen. That’s why we’re here.”
    Emma glanced at the clock on the wall over the kitchen pass-through window. “So here we are at a donut shop at almost one o’clock in the morning. I know you’ve been working a lot, so you must be as tired as I am. What’s going on?”
    The waitress was making her rounds. She stood at the side