” “One goal at a time?” His eyebrows knit. Head cocked to the side, he palmed her cheek with surprising softness. “What does that mean?” ...��You maybe do or don’t do drugs anymore—“ “Don’t.” “—But yet now you’ve got your head set on fucking your good influence’s mother. Mr Bad Boy, right? If you’re this focused on short term goals like that, your head isn’t on the end game.” “Think so?” His tongue darted between his lips, shining them with saliva. She clenched her fists again to keep from. ”Phoebe smiled at the guest. “Sure thing, no problem. I was just tidying up the pantry. What can I get for you?”“No, no, that’s all right, I can take care of it.”“No, really, let me,” she insisted. “I was just about to make something myself. What would you like?” Phoebe opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Cold cuts?”John shrugged and acquiesced. “Fine by me.”“Ham and cheese on rye alright?” asked the cook. John gave an easy nod, and she pulled the fixings from the refrigerator. John. More

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