Miss Reputation Killer
Brad re-emerged shrugging into his ebony jacket.
"Look, lady, I don't learn what your damage is, but this dude doesn't merit whatever crap you're blurting out."
"Defending your lover, are you?"
"Blow it out your blowhole, woman," he mumbled calmly and shoved past her to flee.
"Hey, see if you can disclose her camera while you're out there," Charlie yelled after him.
"She hurled it in some bushes."
Shirley distressed her upper lip. "Charlie, what are we getting on to do with her?"
"We?" he interrogated.
"She's my problem."
"Well, yes, but she appears intent on eradicating my prestige too. Unless you don't assume a nurse's prestige counts."
"Of course it does." He peeked reflective.
"Can you fetch my key so we can carry her up to my place? It would be harder for her to escape through a window from the fourth floor.
Besides…" He looked down at himself. "I desire some clothes—again."
***