Chapter 3

“Yes?” George asked.

Casey cleared his throat. “Can-can I come in?”

George stepped back, holding the door open. “Plumbing problem?”

“What? No. Of course not.” Casey eyed the big terrier as George shut his door. “He doesn’t bite, does he?”

“No. Abraham is friendly.” George patted the dog’s head, and the dog lapped his big tongue all over George’s hand to demonstrate, Casey guessed. “I was about to make coffee. Want some?”

“Oh. Sure. Thanks.”

George went into the kitchen, which looked very much like Casey’s, except instead of all white appliances, George’s were stainless steel.

Casey didn’t enter the kitchen, but hovered on the outskirts. Abraham had followed his master and was now lying at his feet.

“Nice dog.”

“He is, yes. You have cats, right?”

“Right. Betty and Wilma.” Casey felt hot and he didn’t think it was because it was warm in George’s condo. He was pretty sure he was blushing. “From The Flintstones.”

George smirked. “I understood the reference.”