There are sticky situations, and then there are sticky situations. Sam held up his hands, offering a smile in Michael’s direction.
“What are you doing in my mother’s house, Sam?”
Okay, maybe the smile was the wrong way to go. “Visiting Maddy?”
“In your underwear?”
The problem with having a spy for a best friend was he was usually carrying some sort of weapon. And if he wasn’t, his girlfriend was, and damned if Fi didn’t look him up and down, and Sam half expected her to pull some snub-nosed pistol out of that little handbag of hers. “I think it’s the type of visit I really don’t want to know anything more about, Michael,” she said with a sniff. “In fact,” she wrapped her arm around Michael’s, “we should probably leave them to it.”
“This isn’t what it looks like!” Sam yelled as Fi dragged a dumbfounded Michael back out the door they’d just come through.
“Who was that?” Maddy asked, coming out of the bedroom.
“Your son. You’re probably going to get a phone call soon.”
She lit a cigarette. “Eh. I’ll tell him the truth, your clothes weren’t fit to wear after that bottle of cooking oil exploded on them.”
Of course, then she might have to explain how the oil exploded…“Maddy, honey, just leave it. Let Mikey come to his own conclusions.”