"You were doing well this previous month. Better than the last that's for certain. But what are these expenses here?" My accountant pressed one manicured finger to the dismal withdrawal currently missing from Taste Teas' account.

           I cringed. "I had to pay for the car. I had a sudden...breakdown."

           "Evie, how many times have I told you not to spend company money on personal expenses? You need to be using the money left over each year to reinvest in the business so that you can boost your current income."

           "It was an emergency." I'd met her as a timid freshman when we had roomed together in the university housing. I'd been enamored by this woman who was so unlike me; dark, lovely, classy, and beautiful. In my youth it had been my mission to unlock the secret of the sway of her hips or the trouble-free pitch of her laughter or most importantly that confidence that had made me envy how easily she could lull men under her spell.

           "What kind of emergency cost you nearly one thousand dollars? Why didn't your insurance cover it?" Her normally sultry voice didn't lose its magnetism even as she chastised me.

          "Long story."

          "Are you saving money from your check every month like I suggested?" She hadn't changed since then only gotten surer of herself; but then she'd say the same for me.

           "Well...sometimes." I started squirming in my seat.

            "That would really help you when you need money not related to Taste Teas. Do you have a plan to pay back what you borrowed from yourself?"

            "Of course..." Not.

             "And when you pay it back will you please let me invest a portion of it? I can help you get this place franchised in five years. Seven tops. And we need to talk about home ownership too. When are you gonna move out of that dump apartment and into a home? You could use more assets than just Taste Teas and that tore up car."

              "I was thinking about a coffee cart, actually," I said changing the subject.

              "A cart?" Her face just barely flickered with the tiniest hint of condescension.

              "Yeah. Taste Teas does good with the foot traffic over here on the north side of the university, but the east side of the campus is lacking in a good coffee place."

              "So you want to go mobile? It has potential. I'll make a note to look into the permits, but I still think you're not thinking big enough. Imagine a brick and mortar Taste Teas on the other side of town. And you, middle-aged and able to travel while your managers do all the real work."

              "I'm not ready for all that yet, Alice."

              "I understand." She ran a hand through the long black hair that framed her face and lay gently on her shoulders in semi-thick locs—a process she had started in college. "Anyway what I really wanted to talk about was the expenses here that you haven't explained. When you write out who the money goes to on the statements, it just says 'The Raggedy Man'."

              I snorted.

             "What's so funny?" she asked.

              "Nothing, he's cool."

              "He's cool?" she raised an eyebrow; a gesture that spoke to her astuteness. "He's the handyman I take it."

               I nodded.

              "Why isn't he on the books?" She riffled through the employee information. "Where's his information, there should be a name, social, previous employment, background check...anything. Am I expected to file this mystery person on your taxes next year?"

               "No. I pay him in cash."

               "Under the table? If this is some kind of illegal immigrant situation, I'll have none of it. I do business clean. You know that."

                I laughed. "He's legit. He just isn't fond of paperwork. But yes, he's the handyman."

               "Is he who you're paying all this incidental cash to? I see you've got him down for fixing the AC in this place two months ago. But what about this three hundred you spent last week?"

               "Well..."

               "What did he fix?"

                He fixed my way into a dead woman's apartment. "It's complicated and I can't say right now."

                She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's like you never even got a BA in business! You've spent money on car repairs, shady handymen, a new dress for a wedding, and what is this about expensive fruit purchased at a Korean market?"

               "Long story."

               "At this rate this place will be bankrupt by the end of the year."

               "I know that this month is looking bad, financially speaking, but I have an explanation for where the money goes. And it goes to things I consider important."

               "Evie, this place is what's most important. This is your livelihood we're talking about. Do you comprehend how hard it'll be to start a new business after you've lost this one? Forget about loans once you go into foreclosure. Whatever it is can take a back burner for a while so you don't end up in the poor house."

               "If I end up in the poor house I know who's got a nice designer couch all ready for me."

               She smiled as she started gathering up her paperwork. "My couch is too expensive for your broke ass to be wallowing on. Call Henry, he's the pushover."

                Yeah, except for how we weren't talking at the moment.

                "Just try not to spend too much more money this month—and call a bitch up for some margaritas some time, okay?"

               "I've been so busy this month," I said as I helped her pack.

               "And I was busy all tax season but I still made time to go out and have a ladies night."

              "True. We're overdue."

               We finished cleaning up and I walked her to the front. "Why did I have to come in so early anyway? On a Saturday?"

               "I've been indisposed all week and I've got a previous engagement at noon."

              "Getting into trouble?"

              "You know it."

              "Call me when you're out of it. I mean it."

              "Alright, girl."

                As she was walking out, Johnny was walking in. "Ah, let me guess," Alice said as her deep dark eyes raked over Johnny's form. "The raggedy handyman?"

              "Excuse me?" He said with a tone that was borderline indignant. I didn't even think someone so cavalier could get insulted.

              "Ignore her," I said coming up to him. "She's just kidding."

              "She called me 'raggedy'. Can you believe anyone could be so rude?"

               "Nope."

               "Is that what you're wearing?" He said as his eyes raked over the long t-shirt and old jeans I was wearing.

               "What's wrong with it?"

                "Evie we're going to be in the sun for hours. Are you sure that's what you want to wear?"

                 I pulled a baseball cap out of my back pocket and pulled it over my hair. "Now I'm ready to get in the dirt with the boys."

                "You still look like a girlie to me."

               "Well I'm not trying not to look like a 'girlie', just a less feminine one."

               "Whatever. We got to get going or we'll miss the bus."

               "The bus? Why don't we just take my car?"

              "You're trying to be inconspicuous, right? You're going to stand out more than enough because you're a woman. Showing up to work with a bunch of day workers in your brand new car is too obvious."

               "...It's a rental."

               "Doesn't matter, we're taking the bus." Well, I guess he's in charge then.

               We made our way to the bus stop not far from Taste Teas and sat silently as we waited for the number twenty-eight to take us to the day labor office. Once there I talked to the lady at the front desk regarding the application I had sent in.

              "Ah, yes. Evelyn Harper. Experienced in landscaping and gardening."

             "Yes, that's right." I'd had Johnny help me fill in some of my faux resume.

             "Okay. They actually were looking for some help on one of the landscaping crews," she said. I knew that of course.

             Johnny had told me that Delgatto was in the middle of re-landscaping his home and that they were short a few hands. For now it was the only way I had of getting closer to Delgatto without causing suspicion. I was almost certain at this point that he was the one who killed Abbey.

            "That's perfect," I said with a smile

             After getting instructions Johnny and I got on the bus again and rode the line all the way out to Queen's Dock, the realm of the rich and untouchable. It surprised me a little that Delgatto would live in a place so far from King's Alley; the base of operations as far as the United Brotherhood was concerned. But then if I was a criminal mastermind that grew my wealth in the worst ghetto in town that first thing I would do would be to move me and my family out. Looking about at all the million dollar mansions it was clear that Delgatto had done just that.

            Multistory palaces lined both sides of the streets as we walked toward the house. One of the houses we passed was familiar. It was empty and hollow now, a shell of what it was just a few months ago. Johnny said nothing and neither did I. Another half mile later we finally came up to a Mediterranean marvel, finished with a beige cement plaster. The front door was framed in a large white arch that made the home look comparatively majestic, while multiple windows were framed in a similar style. The only jarring thing about it was the torn lawn in the front. At the edge were large stacks of Floratam sod ready to be laid.

            We found the foreman, a tall middle-aged man with thinning hair, and Johnny introduced me. When he shook my hand he looked me over, "You have landscaping experience?"

            "That's what it says on my resume."

             "Uh huh. What sort of experience do you have?"

             "Well, um, I can dig holes...and move stuff...and, and—"

             "Stop. Stop bullshitting," he sighed. "You have no experience landscaping do you?"

              "Well—"

              "Don't say your mother's garden. I understand how rough the economy is but I need—" He paused for a moment. "Actually I do have something you can do later on. You're perfect for the job."

              "Okay. What do I do until then?"

              He grabbed my shoulders and turned me around toward a side walkway where fresh soil lay carefully sectioned in a circular bed. "I need you to line that garden with those boulder rocks over there. Do you see them?"

             My eyes followed to where he was pointing. A pile of rocky, sand colored garden boulders sat next to where the garden was to be.

             "It's easy," he said. "You just follow the markings on the ground and place the boulders around the garden. Think you can do that much?"

             "Grunt work? No problem."

             "Good. I'll come get you when I need you."

              After giving me a pair of dull yellow workman's gloves he left me to get to work.

               I put the gloves on and walked over to the pile of stones. Just take them one by one and line the inside of the little dirt-island-garden thing until it made a nice little garden border. How hard could it be to move a few rocks? I bent down, vaguely conscious of the eyes that followed my every movement. Some likely getting a generous though fully clothed view of my posterior and others merely seeing if I was up to the laborious challenge—despite being a woman.

               I crouched down and got a good grip on the underbelly of the first rock; planting my feet apart and my back straight. I counted to three, took a breath, and lifted with everything I had. My arms tightened and my legs stumbled but I held firm...and froze under the weight.

               Why is this so heavy? Through the muggy air I could hear the sound of laughter. My face burned, not from the sun, but from embarrassment. Okay, Harper you got this. The other boys are laughing at you. I steadied my legs and took another deep breath. Okay, this time give it all you've got, girl. With my knees as leverage I heaved...and heard a crack.

              Oh Lord, was that my knees!

              "Stop. Just stop."

               I dropped the rock and instantly felt relief. Johnny stood behind me with his face soured by a grimace. He was putting a pair of gloves on as he strained to see me under the bright Florida sun. "Johnny!" I cried. "I think I'm dying!"

               "You're not dying," he said with irritation. "You've just never worked this hard a day in you're life. I bet a princess like you has never even worked up a sweat before."

               "Don't be mean when I'm in pain."

               He rolled his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with you except being way too spoiled—is that sweat coming from under your breasts?" Under my bust line my t-shirt was soaked through with sweat.

               I looked around embarrassed, and then whispered, "I think I have a glandular problem."

               He didn't want to, but I could see him fighting against it as the corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes crinkled with delight. The sound of his laugh was a deep, humorous cackle that made the humid air around us lighter. It was pleasant and so...foreign.

              "It's not funny."

              When he calmed down he looked at me from behind smiling dark eyes, but then remembered something and his face quickly set back on his usual glower. He cleared his throat, lodging free the last remnants of his previous delight. "You take the flowers, girlie. I've got the rocks."

              He nodded toward the back of a nearby truck bed that was full to the brim with a variety of colorful flowers. "I thought you were doing something with blueprints."

              "I changed my mind. Got Rodriguez to take over. He's been dying to prove he can do it anyway."

              "Won't you take a gigantic pay cut?"

               He sighed. "It's better than laughing myself to death watching you trying to haul stones you clearly can't handle."

               "Well when you put it like that..." But I didn't have any snappy comeback for the favor he was doing me, so instead I just said, "Thank you."

               "Yeah, yeah." He bent down, grabbing the stone and lifting with relative ease.

                I never realized he was a man before. That sounds stupid because of course I understood that he was male, but something about the way the muscles in his forearms tensed or the casual span of his stride as he hauled that slab of stone made his ever-present masculinity more apparent to me than it ever had been before.

                I snapped myself out of it and got to work. Even the flowers were a little heavy for me, but I kept my mouth shut and moved the m one by one with little trouble. After the first few I'd found my rhythm; hugging the base of the flower to my chest and inhaling the fresh scent of soil, carrying them one by one to where they'd marked them to go, digging a hole (Johnny helped me with that too), and burying the roots of the flowers until the plain patch of dark earth became a floral oasis.

                  If Alice convinced me to buy a house with a yard, I would definitely consider hiring landscapers as I had to admit it looked beautiful. It grew hotter until my shirt soaked through with sweat and my muscles ached from overuse but otherwise the day was trouble-free.

                   Trouble didn't come until Mrs. Delgatto's BMW pulled into the driveway. From the way she swung open the door of her convertible to the way she walked with more than necessary swing it was clear that this woman's middle name was trouble. She took her sweet time too, making sure every man in the yard had ample time to look as she bent over, mini skirt rising, to grab the shopping bags in the back seat. A lot of the men took cautious peeks but a lot of them were hell bent on not looking at her at all.

                   "Can one of you help me?" she said across the yard her voice sweet as a breezy spring night.

                   The Foreman walked over, all business. "Mrs. Delgatto, you know your husband doesn't like us in the house."

                  "He also doesn't like it when the help doesn't help. Would you like to explain to him in person why this yard of grown men watched his wife carry in a bunch of heavy bags by herself?"

                   She was exaggerating. Those heavy bags were clearly full of clothes and I'm sure she had no trouble carrying them to the car to begin with. Wealth not only bought you a sweet yard it seemed, but also ample chances to exercise power.

                 But the foreman looked scared. The threat of having to deal with Mr. Delgatto was what made him crack. He called for someone to help and a couple big guys practically ran over each other trying to get at her. The salacious twinkle of their eyes practically eclipsed the sun but the foreman told them to get back to work. He looked around the yard, eyes landing on me. "Hey you! I got something for you to do."

                   I didn't have much choice so I pulled off my gloves, dusted off my hands, and ran over to where they were. "Yeah?" I said like I didn't know this was the 'job' he had planned for me all along.

                  "Help Mrs. Delgatto carry her bags inside."

                  "Okay."

                  When she got a good look at me she was unimpressed. In fact I think it took a bit of work for her not to roll her eyes, not that you'd see it behind the designer sunglasses.

                  "You're a girl," she said, raking a hand through long black curly hair.

                  "Yes."

                  "Out here, with these men."

                  "Job's a job." A line borrowed from Johnny.

                  When she turned around and walked back to the car the foreman pulled me to the side and said, "Last guy who went into Delgatto's house following after his wife got caught by one of his lieutenants with her hands down his pants. We haven't seen him sense."

                   Yikes.

                   "I expect you won't have a problem with that. You aren't a lesbian are you?"

                  "What the—wh...Do I look like a lesbian? Should I change my hair or something?"

                  "Maybe a little."

                  "Well, okay then."

                   "Don't do anything stupid," he continued. "Just 'yes ma'am, no ma'am, do what she asks and leave. Got it?"

                   "Yes, sir."

                    "I don't have all day!" She yelled from beside the car.

                     "Yes, ma'am!" I jogged over and started lifting bags upon bags from the backseat.

                      "Come on, follow me," she said with disinterest.

                      "Yes Ma'am," And with that into the lion's den I walked.