Bowling for Turkeys

My Fair Milo

GARTH COULDN’T help it. He took one glance at Milo’s beaming face as he waited in the upper parking lot for Garth and Chad to top the rise to the walking loop, and his heart leapt.

He’s got a lot of rebounding to do , Garth warned himself. So much healing. He may not even like you that way.

But Milo’s apple-cheeked face, his slightly prominent ears—highlighted, of course, by a spiffy new haircut—and his sweet, sunny, open-faced grin, and it all… all buzzed every one of Garth’s favorite places.

Just look at him, leaning on a parking post, Julia gazing at him besottedly. He was so damned heart-stoppingly cute.

“So,” Garth said as he and Chad neared their meeting spot, “I take it things worked well?”

The day was going to be a bit warm, so Garth was wearing a T-shirt and cargo shorts along with his comfy work boots, and as he drew near, he saw that Milo was wearing skinny jeans and a pale pink T-shirt that was… well, tight. Very tight. It revealed slender muscles, a concave tummy, and tiny pebbled nipples.

“Also,” Garth said, staring at that almost delicate chest, “somebody seems to have stolen your wardrobe?”

Milo blinked and then grimaced. “Yes, yesterday went really well,” he said in response to the first thing. “And… you know, I don’t know why this shirt was on top. It’s weird. It was like only my old clothes were out today. I haven’t worn these jeans in years, but I couldn’t find the new ones Mari bought for me last week.”

Garth blinked. “That doesn’t seem, I don’t know, strange to you?”

“It does,” Milo said, nodding. “It’s… well, before I cleaned up, the place was like a hazardous waste dump hit by a tornado. But it’s been clean for the last two weeks, and this morning it was looking… I don’t have a word for it. Rifled. Weird.”

Garth felt prickles along the back of his neck. “Yes,” he said, thinking of the unlamented Stuart. “Weird. Anyway, tell me about yesterday.”

“Oh my God!” Milo’s initial excitement was back, and Garth was glad. “Oh, hello, Chad.” Milo patted the dog’s neck as Chad buried his face against Milo’s hip. “Yes, big guy, I missed you—wow.”

Chad was snuffling the skinny jeans, and now he dragged his tongue along the outside seam as though there was something glorious on them. He went to do that again, and Garth gave him a playful cuff on the neck. “Come on, Chad. What’s the deal here?”

Milo shook his head. “I have no idea, but Julia went a little nuts over my socks this morning too.” He wrinkled his nose. “They were sort of oily. I think there was something in the wash.” He shook himself. “Whatever. Can I tell you about my day?”

He launched into a description of his day with his work people, and it was the first time Garth had heard him talk about a world bigger than Milo and Mari. Garth listened, enchanted as always, because Milo’s point of view was as fey as Milo himself.

“So after Julia tried to eat Rick, he spent the day giving her treats, and now she thinks he’s peachy, don’t you, baby?”

Julia glanced up at him, and then driven by some irresistible force, she wandered back to nuzzle his socks as he walked.

“Knock that off,” Milo muttered, and Garth wondered at the dogs’ reactions even as he heard Milo’s story of the dog cartoon and his boss, who’d been worried about him.

Well, good on that. Garth suspected Milo had needed to be worried about, and he was only sorry he hadn’t known Milo at the time, because he thought he might be happy to spend lots of energy worrying about Milo. But beyond that, there was a… a thing. An aura about Milo that Garth was struggling to identify as they walked.

“So,” he said, that part of his brain busy while he engaged Milo in their usual conversation, “do I get a picture of Julia? Can I see that?”

“Yes!” Milo all but chirped. “But first I’m working on a picture of Chad, because when I got home I was so excited about drawing Julia in a cartoon I wanted to show them both meeting, and I thought it was hilarious, so I wanted to show it to you.”

“But the first thing—”

“But I want you to see it all together!” Milo insisted. “And, you know, cleaned up. And perfect.” He paused, and Garth sensed his gaze on Garth’s face. He glanced over at Milo and gave a gentle smile. “You’ve been so kind,” Milo said softly. “I want you to see it good.”

Garth winked at him and kept walking. “I can’t wait,” he said, although he thought he would love to be in on the work in progress. Artists didn’t always work like that, he knew. You had to be in on someone’s innermost circle of trust to see the half-finished product. He wondered if Mari had seen it, and then before he could make an ass of himself and ask that, he reminded himself that Mari and Milo had collectively saved each other’s lives in innumerable large and small ways.

It was like dating a cop, he thought. A person’s partner or bestie was always going to have a part of them that the romantic partner didn’t. Just because Garth was sort of hoping for romance didn’t mean that he got to jump spots in Milo’s line.

“I can’t wait,” Garth murmured again softly. In the ensuing moment of quiet, Garth smelled it, and then he suddenly got it.

“Milo?” he asked. “Did you wash your clothes with a peanut butter sandwich?”

Milo gaped at him. “No,” he said. “I actually hate peanut butter. My mom used to use it as punishment if I didn’t like what was for dinner the night before. But….” He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “But you’re right!” He lifted his arm and gave a big whiff into his own armpit. “That’s so weird . It’s like my clothes—God, everything that was on top of the pile smells like peanut butter .” He sounded horrified. “Isn’t that like a dog aphrodisiac?”

“Sort of,” Garth said darkly, his suspicions confirmed. “You’re not allergic to peanut butter, are you?”

“No,” Milo muttered. “I just don’t like it. Why?”

“Who knows about the peanut butter thing? Your mom of course―”

“She doesn’t,” Milo said. “I mean, she didn’t know it stuck and traumatized me.” He grunted. “Not that she would care, I think. But Mari knows.”

“Anybody you work with?”

Milo shook his head. “No, I mean, other than in passing. When we order sandwiches, I beg for anything but peanut butter, but other than that, I’m not picky. Tuna, Italian, barbecue—I’m easy to please.”

Garth couldn’t help the sideways look he slid toward Milo’s puzzled face. God, he hoped so, he thought with some serious sexual hunger. “Good to know,” he said. Then he did the hard thing. “Does, uhm, Stuart know?”

Milo grunted. “Well, yeah. He’d buy it anyway. I mean, I did all the shopping, and then he’d go buy peanut butter and jelly to have it in the fridge.”

“Did he like peanut butter and jelly?” Garth asked.

“No,” Milo said. “He never used it. I think he just liked it when I went ‘Ew.’”

“What. A. Dick.” Garth couldn’t help it. After all of Milo’s other stories—and what Garth suspected had happened this time—it absolutely had to be said. “Does Stuart still have the key to your house?”

“Yes,” Milo said. “I mean, I never got it back.” He paused. “You… you don’t think….”

“Your horrible ex-boyfriend broke into your house and washed all your old clothes with peanut butter?” Garth asked, fury rising in his gullet. “Yes. Yes I do, Milo. I think he definitely did that.”

Milo stopped abruptly in the shady part of the path. “But… but why ?” he asked. “It’s been two and a half months! I-I mean, right when he left, I could see it, but now? Shouldn’t we be moving on? I mean, I am.”

“Yeah, you are,” Garth said, proud of him even though Garth himself had nothing to do with it. “But I suspect he hasn’t. I bet he’s been watching you.”

Milo shuddered, looking absolutely like a light-struck deer. “But… why ?” There was a note in his voice, a sort of hurt panic, that absolutely broke Garth’s heart.

“To see if you moved on,” Garth explained patiently. “And then to creep into your life and make sure you couldn’t.”

Milo blinked at him. “That’s so weird . Would he really do that?”

Garth sighed, not wanting to break his heart further but thinking Milo probably deserved to hear the truth. “Baby, if any ex-boyfriend was going to turn into a stalker, it was going to be the guy who stole your cat and went through your finances and expected you to buy a new house just to accommodate his life. I hate to say this, but he sounds sort of like a controlling bastard from beginning to end, and this little bit of creepiness is par for the course.”

“But… but what should I do?” Milo’s frown of baffled hurt got a little sharper. “What would I have done if you hadn’t pointed it out? I mean, I could have gone on for a month and not figured out why Julia was so in love with my socks. And I never pay attention to what I’m wearing. What a weird thing to do, right? I mean, creepy and controlling, but… but I might not have noticed.”

In spite of his sudden worry, Garth found himself chuckling. “No,” he said. “You might not have. Listen, what are you doing today?”

“Going home and taking a shower and putting some sort of degreaser in the washer and rewashing all my clothes,” he said promptly. Then he shuddered. “Or maybe rewashing my favorite clothes and ordering new ones.” He glanced down at what he was wearing again. “I probably could have ditched this outfit right out of high school and the world would have been a better place.”

Garth’s absolute delight with him could not be contained. “Milo, did Stuart tell you what to wear a lot?”

Milo wrinkled his nose. “He tried,” he said. “I would come home and find big bags of stuff going to the Goodwill on the porch, and I’d look in them, and it would be all my stuff. I’d hide them in the garage and then put them back in my drawers when Stuart wasn’t there to see. ‘Did those bags get picked up, Milo?’ ‘Yes, Stuart—they’re gone now.’” Milo shrugged and, to Garth’s relief, continued to walk. “And then I’d wear something he didn’t like again, and he’d ask me where it came from, and I’d forget.”

Garth raised his eyebrows. “You’d forget?”

“Well, yes. I mean, the thing with the bags would happen and the clothes wouldn’t resurface for another month, and I’d, you know, forget.” Milo blinked a couple of times, leaped nimbly over Julia, who had stopped again, and then tugged on her leash. “He’d… he’d get sulky after that, but he’d never tell me what was wrong.”

Garth had never felt so much like crowing before. “What was wrong,” he said, “is that he was trying to control the wind. Stuart was engaged in psychological warfare, and you were engaged in passive resistance. It’s like swinging a tennis racket at what you think is a ball and hitting Jell-O. It’s brilliant.”

Milo blinked. “Well, when I talk about it, it sounds like he was a real prick!”

“He was,” Garth said gently.

“But how could I be living with a real prick for over a year and not know it until he tried to divorce me from my best friend?”

Garth knew he’d regret it—knew he’d smell like peanut butter for the rest of the day—but he didn’t care. He draped his arm around Milo’s shoulders like he had the day before and pulled him close. “Because you are so sweet,” he said softly. “You are so sweet, it didn’t faze you. You just sort of… bobbed and weaved whenever he tried to control you. And then you broke up with him, and he thought it would break you. And it didn’t.” Garth sighed.

“That’s bad?” Milo asked, still baffled and confused.

“Only because that’s when guys like this get dangerous,” Garth said. “Look, I’m going to call my client and postpone my work today, and then you and I are going to take a peek around your house to see what we can do to prevent this from happening again.”

“You can’t do that,” Milo said. “Your job is important!”

Garth grunted. He couldn’t really argue with that. A bunch of supplies were supposed to get delivered that morning, and Doug was coming over so they could solidify work on the porch. But Garth didn’t want Milo in his house if Stuart had been there. He just didn’t. He wanted security and a cleaning service and—

“Okay,” he said. “You’re right. Okay, can you bring your computer over to my client’s house? She’s got a big place. You and Julia could hang out there and get some work done—”

“You can’t just drag me into this woman’s house!” Milo protested, sounding horrified.

Garth shook his head. “I’ll ask first,” he said. “And you’ll bring Julia’s crate. We’re adapting her house to hold two big dogs, which was supposed to be my big news, but I’ll fill you in later. Don’t worry. You and me can make this work, but in the meantime, I don’t want you home without a security system, okay? Your house needs to be your house, Milo. Let’s get you in charge of your own destiny, okay?”

Milo was staring at him with an uncomfortable amount of worship in his eyes. “You’re like Superman,” he breathed.

“I’m a guy with a dog,” Garth told him, but inside he was warmed from his toes on out.

Okay, he thought. Let’s make some empowerment!

MISTY WAS fine with Milo coming over for the day, and Julia?

Well, she might have spent the entire day in her crate, Milo nervously fretting about her reaction to Daisy and Butch and Chad all at once, but things went so fast! Garth—after a quick phone consultation—followed Milo to his sweet little duplex and, after waiting in the truck with Chad, took Milo and Julia to Misty’s house. Julia and Chad, after exchanging a brief growly greeting, backed off immediately when Garth and Milo both barked, “Leave it!”

Julia turned toward her corner and Chad to his in the back of the extra cab, and they both sniffed and ignored each other after that.

“Wow,” Milo muttered. “I must really be off my game to not think that they’d have problems. She does make everything more challenging.”

“Well, she also makes you more aware of your surroundings,” Garth said. “Did you notice anything when you went back inside?”

“Yeah,” Milo said glumly. “I could smell peanut butter everywhere . I rifled through my drawers and realized that one of my old shirts was smeared in it, like it had been washed that way. I did laundry the day before yesterday—there was a load on top of the drier waiting to be folded. Stuart put the load of all the clothes I wore as a last resort in the washer and then the drier with a peanut butter sandwich.” Milo shook his head. “Which I would not have known, but I got home and the drier door was open, so I thought I’d spaced out in mid-laundry, because I’ve done that, you know?”

Garth suppressed a smile. He could not imagine spacing out in the middle of laundry, but it was nice to know Milo’s quirks.

“Of course,” he said.

“Stuart used to yell at me about it,” Milo went on guilelessly. “Milo, you fucking space cadet, take care of your shit!”

Garth had to keep himself from braking mid traffic. It wasn’t just the words, which were pretty harsh, but the tone , which Garth had never heard Milo use, not even when Julia was being her most intractable.

“Milo,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “Is that how he spoke to you ?”

Milo nodded, seemingly unperturbed. “I mean, that’s how people talk to you when you space out, right?”

“Who else talks to you like that?” Garth asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Milo shrugged. “Mom, stepdad, my college roommate. Not Mari, though. Or, come to think about it, the people at work. I-I mean, even Rick, who can be loud— he doesn’t talk like that.” Milo snorted. “He’s just loud.”

Garth drove to Misty’s house on autopilot. “Milo?”

“Yeah?”

“I will never speak to you like that. Please, please , don’t hang out with anybody who speaks to you like that.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Milo explained. “That’s how people who love you talk when they lose patience because you fuck up.”

Garth’s heart was starting to hammer in his ears. “Baby,” he said, knowing it was the second time he’d used the endearment that day but not sure that Milo had caught it, “that’s how people who love you talk to you if you’re about to run into traffic, or if you’re standing next to a bomb. Anything less dire needs a better tone of voice. Please, please believe me on this. Stuart had no business saying those things to you, I don’t care how many loads of laundry you left in the drier.”

“Oh,” Milo said softly.

“Oh, what?”

“Just… just I had no idea how much I needed to know that, that’s all. Is that why your dog is so sweet? Nobody spoke to him like that?”

Garth’s heartbeat eased up. “It could be. You don’t speak to Julia like that,” he said. “I mean, you call her idiot dog, but your voice is affectionate.”

“Well, yeah,” Milo responded. “She’s like Mari. She trusts me. You… you don’t abuse somebody’s trust when they think you’re a safe person.” He let out a breath. “Like, you know, letting Julia chase turkeys when they thought they were okay to walk in the park. I shouldn’t have let her do that.”

Garth agreed, but he also understood a little better now. “Yeah, but sometimes when you’ve been pecked to bleeding by the other turkeys in your life, you end up lashing out at the innocent birds who were in the way.”

“You just need someone to teach you better,” Milo said. “Like I’m trying to teach Julia. And you’re trying to teach me.”

“Yeah,” Garth said and felt like he needed to add, “but I’m not entirely altruistic.” He pulled into Misty’s driveway and proceeded to follow the paved track that swung around to the back, relieved to see that his friend Doug was there already with his pickup and that the supply people were not .

“You’re not?” Milo said, and he sounded puzzled. “Why… why would you be my friend like this? What on earth could I give you?”

Garth chuckled, but it wasn’t his happiest laugh. “Milo, don’t panic. I like you. I think you’re cute as hell. Someday, when Stuart is not your go-to, when you think about a boyfriend, I hope you might consider me for the job. And if you consider me, and it’s a no, I hope you’ll be honest and tell me we can be friends. But not now. I get it. You’re a mess. But someday. Is that okay?”

Milo blinked at him, and for a moment Garth’s heart absolutely wilted under the weight of his bafflement. Then a look of shyness passed over Milo’s face—a sort of bashful recognition.

“You like putting your arm around my shoulders,” he said, looking sideways out of those remarkably fey eyes.

“Yeah,” Garth admitted, knowing his ears were turning red, “I really do.”

“You can keep doing that,” Milo said, a smug, self-important little smile on his face.

Garth’s own smile was much bigger than that, but he didn’t care. “Good,” he said.

And that’s where they were when Doug came and opened Garth’s door, saying, “C’mon, man, we got shit to do!” and all hell broke loose.

First Chad scrabbled out of the truck from behind Garth’s seat, Garth hollering—but not meanly—at the dog the entire time. Then while Chad was woofing at the fence to go visit his friends, Daisy and Butch, who were woofing at the gate as well, Julia pulled a spectacularly awkward, splang-legged leap from the back of the truck on Chad’s heels. Before he could register the change of circumstance, Michael, who had been standing by the gate, opened it up to let Chad—and presumably the other humans—inside, and Chad zoomed in to play with his old friends, Julia following hard after.

“Julia!” Milo cried, and scrambled out of the truck on behind Garth as they raced toward the backyard to hopefully allay a bloodbath.

They both petered to a halt right inside the gate, and Garth put his hand on Milo’s shoulder to make sure he could breathe.

The dogs—all four of them—were performing magnificent happy zoomie loops in the vast backyard, legs pumping, tongues lolling as each dog took turns being in front. For a few moments after Michael clanged the gate closed behind them, they watched in breathless wonder at the sheer spectacle of dogs playing.

Then—oh no!—Daisy got a little too close to Julia. Julia turned on her and snarled, and Garth’s heart stuttered in his chest, but before he could run in to stop an out-and-out brawl, Chad turned around and head-butted Julia, sending her sprawling but completely unhurt.

She lay on the ground, stunned, before picking herself up and trotting back into the fray.

“Oh God,” Milo said.

“Yeah—I thought that was it,” Garth muttered. “God, I’m sorry, Milo. I’d had plans to do that slowly, maybe play with the ball a little, have some supervised introduction time.”

“I’m so sorry,” Doug said, coming up alongside them. “That was a perfect storm, wasn’t it?”

“Wow,” Milo murmured. “Maybe they can tire her out, you think? She… wow. She’s really athletic.”

“I think you need to stay in her sights the whole time,” Garth told him. He nudged Milo toward the lawn furniture on a temporary pallet porch that he and Doug had set up the day before. “You and Misty can sit there and oversee the dogs while Doug and I get the supplies in. Michael’s going to make sure they don’t escape, and then after some consultation, I’ll go over to your place and oversee your security.”

“Are you sure your friend won’t mind me and—”

“Oh my God!” Misty approached, wearing the same sort of clothes she’d worn when going to pick out Daisy and Butch. “You must be Garth’s friend, Milo!”

Milo turned toward her, surprised, and Garth’s favorite client met Garth’s new favorite dog walker. “Hi, uhm, yes. It’s nice to meet you—”

“Misty. Misty Parcival. Come sit with me and let the boys do their thing,” she said, waving her hand. “I understand you work from home, doing something creative. I want to pick your brains for a minute about how you make that work.”

Milo blinked at her, and Garth could almost hear his surprise that he had an unusual and marketable job skill that wasn’t his art.

“O-okay,” Milo said. “I’d love to. But I swear I’m sort of a space cowboy.”

“Show her some of your commercial work,” Garth told him, because Milo had told him where to look. Milo’s logo work and with his advertising firm was so striking—clean but creative, with smooth, organic lines. Garth thought Misty would be as impressed as Garth had been, but that didn’t mean Garth wouldn’t like to see more of Milo’s personal work.

He so wanted to see Julia as a comic-dog superhero. He couldn’t help it. He thought that those weird airplane ears could do great things if only somebody with Milo’s sense of whimsy could draw them.

But that’s not what Milo was doing now. “Okay,” he said, casting Garth a hopeful look over his shoulder before following Misty to their improvised outdoor office.

Garth let out a sigh of relief and turned toward the dogs, who were taking turns chasing each other. Chad tended to stick to a steady lope by Julia’s side, sort of a proprietary “if she screws up I’ll take care of it” posture, and Garth crossed his fingers. Julia might not be fully socialized, and everybody would have to be alert, but for a moment he could focus on his actual job.

Of course Doug wasn’t going to let that slide.

“So you’re doing what, now, while I’m digging out the area for the apron?” he asked, as both he and Garth helped the delivery guys shift supplies into the backyard. The dogs, for the most part, were staying away from all the commotion, and it had helped that Garth and Doug marked an improvised “fence” using yellow tape and stakes to ward them off.

“I’m going to his house to install some security,” Garth told him. “His ex-boyfriend still has keys to his house and apparently snuck in to do some creepy shit yesterday.”

“Like…?” Together they lowered their load carefully to the ground, making sure to lift with their thighs and calves and not with their backs.

“Like rearranged his laundry and washed all his old clothes with a peanut butter sandwich because apparently he hates the stuff.”

Doug stood up. “Holy crap! I mean… what a creeper!”

“You can call him an abusive motherfucker,” Garth growled. “I’m starting to think of him like that.”

“Aw, man—for real?” Doug was six feet two inches and two hundred and thirty pounds of gruff muscle, but that included his heart, which he exercised frequently on his two daughters, who adored him. “Like, you know, physically?”

“No,” Garth told him as they made their way back to the truck for more bags of cement. “Like, intimidation. Calling him names. Trying to control his life. Milo drew the line at buying a new house and breaking up with his best friend to make the guy happy, and the guy lost his shit and left. And stole Milo’s cat. Anyway, this weird stalking thing is new, and I think it should be stopped immediately, don’t you?”

“God yes. In fact, how about you and me both go check out his house. My wife’s got a friend in the police department who can help us set him up with a porch camera and a security system and maybe a heads-up with the cops. Guys like this usually—”

“Escalate,” Garth said grimly. “Yeah, I know. I’m hoping that maybe knowing Milo has a dog might put the guy off, but—”

“You never know.” Doug and Garth had roomed together, and they’d been pretty tight even before their romance-movie weekend. Garth deeply understood Milo’s attachment to Mari, because he wouldn’t trade Doug in for any money.

“Let’s get this unloaded,” Doug said, “and I’ll come with you. Maggie had one of these when I met her in college. You remember?”

“Sugar-in-the-gas-tank Bill?” Garth said grimly. “Yeah. I seem to recall we had to go to some extreme means to get the guy to back off.”

They’d filed a restraining order, of course, but when Bill had shown up on campus, shadowing Maggie’s movements within visual distance of her as she went from class to class, they’d taken some… unusual measures. Almost stalker -like measures, if Garth had to be truthful about it. When they’d realized Bill was shadowing Maggie on campus, they’d superglued his car locks. While he was trying to get into his car, they’d visited his parents’ house and shown them pictures of Bill violating the restraining order.

Then they’d taken turns, all four of their friend group, escorting her from place to place while the rest of the group took photos of the ex-boyfriend and texted them, one after another, to the local police and the campus police and social media.

By the time they were done with him, he was the most hated man on campus, and he’d had to replace all the door locks on his car and his apartment because this went on for a week.

And finally they were able to get him arrested.

But Maggie had been looking over her shoulder for a long time. She and Doug had almost moved out of state when they’d gotten together, but Bill had managed to get himself thrown in prison for armed robbery before that happened.

“Yeah,” Doug said grimly, and it was clear they were on the same page. “I do not like the idea of that guy on his own with a Bill on his tail. Here, let’s go talk to Misty about taking a powder. You think she’ll mind?”

Garth glanced over to the little pavilion Misty had set up under the porch overhang and was forced to smile. Julia had run herself out and was flopped under Milo’s chair, panting happily while Misty poured Milo tea and was talking his ear off. Milo’s expression was attentive and quite cheerful.

And Misty seemed enchanted.

Garth knew how she felt.

“I think they’ll be okay,” he said.

“Yeah, she’s a good dame,” Doug told him. “I really like your ideas for the porch and the pond—and the dogs—better than the other stuff you told me you’d be doing. This feels like it’ll make it a place for her, you know? The inside of that house….” He shook his head. “That feels like a movie set.”

Misty deserved a home, Garth thought, not for the first time.

“Look at us,” he said with a grin. “We may seem like humble working stiffs, but in truth we fix people’s lives.”

Doug cackled, obviously pleased, and they went after the last load of concrete and wood so they could close the gate.

TWO HOURS later, standing in the shade of Milo’s porch, they were not nearly so jubilant.

Are you sure you don’t have a security system ? he texted Milo for the second time, looking directly at the security system camera next to Milo’s doorbell.

Yes. I asked Stuart if we should get one, and he said my house was a shithole with nothing worth stealing.

DIDN’T HE LIVE WITH YOU? God, Garth wanted two minutes with this guy.

Yes, but remember, I’m a slob.

You have a busy mind , Garth told him staunchly. Yeah, he and Doug had been inside, smelled the peanut butter, and spent an hour taking apart and bleaching the inside of the washing machine. Doug had needed to do this before—for exactly the same thing—when his preschool-aged daughter had washed her own peanut butter sandwich in a front-loader.

Milo was not a neat freak. In fact, Garth could trace multiple paths through the house. From the study, where Milo would bring a stylus from his tablet, to the kitchen where he’d set the stylus down to get a soda, to the living room where he set the soda down to throw the dog toy for Julia, to the back door where he’d let Julia out to run around. Or from the bedroom where he grabbed a sweater and set down his portable-phone charger, to the den where he set down the sweater and rifled through his desk—probably looking for the phone charger—and back to the kitchen where a drawer was open, full of styluses for his tablet.

It wasn’t mass destruction; it was… well, wandering clutter.

I’m a slob , Milo returned, and Garth didn’t lose it because he could hear that secret little smile Milo wore sometimes when he was tweaking somebody.

It’s charming , Garth assured him. But about the security system that Stuart didn’t tell you he installed—do you have his phone number?

Why?

Because Doug and I have a plan. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t call him.

No, but Stuart might wish he had.

Doug was looking over his shoulder, nose wrinkled because after cleaning the washing machine they both smelled like peanut butter. Garth was pretty sure they were going to have to do the same thing to the drier.

Milo texted the number, along with, But I really don’t think I have a system. Stuart assured me we didn’t need one.

Baby, I need you to, from now on, think very hard about everything Stuart told you and regard it as a lie. So if he said anything bad, like you being a slob? That was a BIG FAT LIE. And so was not installing a security system. I’ll explain when I get there. In the meantime, can I pack a bag for you? You can stay at Mari’s house tonight, or mine. I promise you I’ll explain.

Okay. I’ll text Mari, but she’s got eight cats—Julia might be a bit much.

Mine, then. I’ve got a guest bedroom. No arguments.

Okay. You’ve seen what I wear. But, you know, something that fits and doesn’t smell like peanut butter.

Understood.

And with that Garth pocketed his phone and turned to Doug.

“Did you get the number?”

“Yup,” Doug said, and indicating the logo wrapped around the three tiny cameras they’d found on the porch, in the foyer, and—worst of all—in the bedroom, he grunted. “So my cop friend has the security system on the line. She gave them Stuart’s number, and they’re pulling up all the feed to his phone in the past two and a half months.”

“Since the breakup,” Garth growled.

“God, what a douche.” Doug shook his head. “Why do guys gotta be like this? I mean, I get it. Why women can hate us. And you don’t think of them doing it to other guys but… but your guy, he’s sweet as a kitten!”

Garth thought about Milo cheering Julia on as she chased turkeys with abandon. “Kittens can lash out,” he said. “We need to take care of this problem before this guy really hurts him.”

“Wait,” Doug said, “here we go. He had everything set up for motion detectors. Hunh.”

“What?” Garth asked, peering over his shoulder.

“It doesn’t seem like Milo did a lot of moving there for a while.”

“Well, breakups,” Garth said, but his heart ached. Stuart hadn’t deserved that sort of devotion. Together they watched as Milo lay facedown on his bed for hours at a time. He’d wake up, work frantically at the computer, and then fall asleep again. Garth was on the verge of telling Doug to forget it, this was intrusive and heartbreaking, when a movement on the porch caught the camera.

It was Stuart, peering in through the window. Milo had just departed for work, looking… well, much like Garth had first seen him, which was not put together at all, and suddenly Stuart was showing up on his porch.

Rifling through his mail.

He put it all back but—oh. He stole an envelope. And another.

“Can you fast forward that camera?” Garth asked.

“Yup,” Doug said grimly. A few days later, Stuart came by and did it again.

“What mail is he stealing?” Garth asked.

“I don’t know,” Doug said. “But tampering with mail is a crime. I’m sending this to my friend in the department. Is his name on the deed?”

“Nope,” Garth said grimly. Because that had been the beginning of the end, hadn’t it? Stuart wanted Milo to move so he could put his name on the deed. Milo had wanted to keep the duplex, because he was making money from the neighbor next door and he liked his little living space. Garth had to admit, although cluttered, he kept it cleaned and vacuumed, and the space was airy and white, with bright little accents—trim painted blue or red or yellow in most of the rooms, or faux gates with the same colors. The kitchen tile was mostly white, with the occasional primary colored tile thrown in, and the bathroom did the same thing. The floors were blond hardwood laminate, and the bedding and towels were those same bright, whimsical, comic-book colors. The place was… happy. And whether or not Milo and Stuart had been happy inside it, Garth had gotten the feeling Milo, at least, was trying.

That much effort deserved some real happiness, Garth thought with determination. The least he could do was try as hard as Milo.

So they forwarded their info to the police and finished the repairs on the washer and dryer, and then feeling like intrusive perverts, they sorted the wash that had been contaminated to send it through again.

“Okay,” Doug said, holding up a rumpled, now-brownish rainbow-colored T-shirt that announced Pride Spirit Week on it. “This is obviously from high school. Does he really want this washed? Or should we maybe throw it out.”

Garth grimaced. “I suspect,” he muttered, taking a look at the affected load of laundry, “that this entire exercise was an attempt to get Milo to throw out his old stuff—his Mari stuff—so Stuart could maybe drive a wedge between Milo and his friend.” He snorted. “The truly ironic thing here is I don’t think Milo noticed. Having seen him dressing for the past week and a half, I think this shit was on the bottom of his drawers. But now that Stuart tried to make him throw it away….”

“We’d better leave the choice to Milo,” Doug said. “I get it. God, how insecure is this asshole anyway?”

“I am at a complete loss,” Garth said, shaking his head. “So do we want to install the real security system and then rip this shit out, or rip this shit out and let him guess?”

Doug was unbuckling his pants, and for a moment Garth stared, but then Doug turned around and glanced over his shoulder.

“Dude,” he said, “you gonna leave my ham swinging in the wind here? I’m trying to make a statement for your boy!”

“Oh! Yeah. Sorry.” Garth did the same, and in a moment, the two of them were serving up a double order of pressed ham.

And then Doug drove a ball-peen hammer into the fisheye lens, and they bid Stuart and his creepy, controlling security system that Milo did not know about adieu.

Then they did the same for the back door, and then for the bedroom.

And then they got to work.