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he’d received the call, dressed in a brand new tailored, grey Armani suit and black Collezioni lace-up shoes. He was cleanly shaven and had just got a fresh haircut too. He fit the part of successful businessman in every way – at least as far as looks were concerned.
    “I love you.” Bailey’s sweet voice came through the receiver.
    He laughed a joyous and surprising laugh. “Sweetheart I just left you inside. It hasn’t even been five minutes.”
    She laughed back. “So…”
    “Well, I love you back.”
    “See you when I get home?” she asked playfully.
    He looked both ways before crossing the busy street, dodging traffic. “I don’t want to make you any promises I can’t keep, beautiful,” Morgan toyed.
    “What? You’re kidding me… right?” she questioned.
    “Ah, but of course I am. I couldn’t leave the woman that tried to take my life, and then saved it in the same night now could I?”
    Bailey had to watch her way with words, being around so many. She said, “You did me first.”
    That was a wrong choice of words. A homeless man waiting on a serum for his psoriasis overheard her. His thick eyebrows quickly lifted and lowered four times as he displayed what was left of his stained, black and yellow teeth, while feverishly tapping at his knees with a loss for words.
    Bailey silently apologized to the man and took a few steps further away. “So I take it we’re almost even.” Morgan said.
    “Almost even,” Bailey’s voice slightly grew with a playful respect for the game they were playing.
    Another choice of bad words, perhaps. She caught herself, turned to the homeless guy. He made the same gesture as before. Yep, he heard her.
    Morgan said, “Yeah, almost…”
    “If I recall you’re still in the hole,” Bailey joked.
    She turned to the homeless gent once again after she’d spoken. Her body jerked, her eyes bolted shut, and she held her cell phone tightly for a second; reopened her eyes with a smile. He was right on her heels, eavesdropping. If she didn’t hang up the phone now he was likely to ask her on a date. She placed a slim open hand over the speaker and told him she’d be with him shortly.
    “Okay, so together we’re toxic. But it’s a good toxic. One that I don’t ever want to get rid of.”
    “Great! Same here too honey. I have to go. Bye!” Bailey finished.
    The phone went dead.

Chapter 11
    Morgan looked to his cell as if he couldn’t believe she’d spoke so rapidly before hanging up on him without waiting to hear his confession of love. He shoved the phone within his inside jacket pocket and made a right turn on the next street. There was a flower boutique there. Bailey loved flowers just as much as her antiques, as much as she enjoyed helping to save a life, and he took a great enjoyment in fulfilling her ever desire.
    He stepped in the boutique and returned holding a lovely, lone Kaffir Lily in a white pot in one hand, in the other, a Norfolk Island pine in a hardened clay container. The exotic pink Lily was for Bailey, the pine was his. Some habits are a bit harder to kick cold turkey than others. Not that pissing on houseplants was on the to-do list, it was the comfort of feeling at home that drew his interest toward dandy the young NIP.
    The sun had almost vanished into the nothingness of nightfall. Morgan was nearing Bailey’s residence when a streetwalker, her eyes hidden behind the dark tint of designer shades, appeared from out of an alley with a catwalk stride that spelled out danger. From the mountain fresh scent of her straight, brown shoulder length hair, her body clenching, shiny, raspberry mini skirt that revealed her long and aesthetic legs, down to her designer, metallic open toe pumps, he knew she was watching him.
    She lit a cigarette as she neared him, must have mistaken him for a John – although a prostitute’s job is to entice the general public to purchase goods based on the presentation – asked if he was looking for a good time and