I hate clowns with a passion.

My blood boiled when I read the words on the page. I was going to kill him. Like honest to God, I was about to go down for murder.

Don’t forget I still have a key to your apartment, Maci, and I’ve known you most your life. I remember all of your biggest fears.

This guy is for the shower, have fun finding my payback for the headboard banging last night.

I really do feel bad for the poor bastard that has to put up with that.

Connor

By the way, you’re out of your little coffee-cup things.

I am so not out of coffee! I just went to the store a few days ago. Swear to God if that man took all of them, I wasn’t just going to kill him. I was going to kill him, then bring him back so I could junk-punch him.

I began storming into the kitchen, but when I remembered his words about another payback, I froze, letting only my eyes move around to find any other threats around me. Tiptoeing the rest of the way to the kitchen, I opened the cupboard that held all the K-cups and found two unopened boxes as well as one opened. I hadn’t moved them, Connor knew where they were, so why would he say they were missing? I reached up to grab one and immediately brought my arm back before investigating for anything suspicious. When it all appeared normal, I brought down a K-cup and put it in the Keurig before going through the same process in the mug cabinet.

Grabbing the handle of the mug closest to me, I took a deep breath in and pulled it out quickly, prepared for something to be behind it. Nothing.

I bet there is nothing else and he just said that to make me paranoid about my entire apartment. With a heavy sigh I started to slide the mug into the slot on the machine when I saw it, and a scream that rivaled the one I’d had for the clown filled my apartment as the mug went crashing down onto the floor. A giant piece broke off and the tarantula spilled out.

“Not okay. Not okay. Connor!” I screamed as I jumped onto my counter and kept pointing at it on the ground. “Connor help me!”

When a few minutes had passed and Connor hadn’t come in, and the ginormous spider hadn’t moved, I slid off the counter and opened up a drawer closest to me. Grabbing the tongs, I walked closer and had to try three times before I could make my arm go far enough to touch the now obviously plastic tarantula.

This meant war.

Running to my pantry, I grabbed a trash bag and opened it up before using the tongs to deposit the disgusting eight-legged beast in there, along with the two pieces of what had been my favorite mug. When the rest of the micro-shards were swept up and thrown out, I went to my knife block and took out the massive chef’s knife before creeping back to my living room. An icy chill ran down my spine seeing the back of the clown, and I just knew that little bitch was about to come to life any second and turn around on me. With two deep breaths in and out, I mentally pumped myself up for what I knew I had to do and charged it with a war cry, slashing furiously until it deflated into a pile on my floor.

After I returned the knife to the block, I grabbed the tongs and put Bozo the heart-attack-inducing clown in the trash bag too.

Still in my towel, I stormed over to Connor’s apartment with my key ring in hand. As soon as I saw that bastard, I was going to punch him in the throat, throw the trash bag at him, and then run back to the safety of my apartment. But there was another note on his door with my name on the front.

1. No, I won’t help you with the big ugly spider.

2. If you made it this far without dying, I’m proud of you.

3. Did you really think I am stupid enough to stick around and suffer the wrath of Maci?

Yes. Yes, I did. And I’d lied about him being the mature one. I went back to my apartment completely defeated and exhausted even though I’d only been awake for an hour. And there was no way in hell I was about to check the rest of my coffee mugs to see if they were safe.

Grabbing my phone, I dialed the number at my office and waited until someone answered.

“Yep?”

“You know, if I can’t answer the phone with a yep then you shouldn’t be able to either.”

There was a beat of silence. “Are you on your way in?”

“Pfft. No, I have things I need to get done today,” I said as I grabbed underwear and a pair of jeans, and put them on.

“Like what? We need you here answering the phone, Maci.”

“Dakota, you did just fine answering it this time, and hardly anyone ever calls the office phone anyway. They all call our cell phones.” I put my phone on speaker and placed it down on my dresser as I grabbed a bra and angrily clasped it on. “I already told you I have things I need to do. So I’m not coming in to just sit there and play solitaire and Minesweeper.”

“This is Dylan, and what’s so important that you can’t come in?”

I stood up quickly from grabbing the shirt that I’d just dropped on the floor and glared at my phone as I thought back through our conversation. That little bastard. “If I wanted you to know what I was doing, I would have already told you. Just tell Dad I’m cramping or something, he won’t want to hear anything else. And don’t bullshit me, Dakota. Dylan only calls me ‘Mini,’ you’re losing your touch, bro.”

“Maybe I call you both. You don’t know me . . . you don’t know what’s in my head. Maybe I’ll call you Mack tomorrow.”

And this is why I never understood anyone’s attraction to my brothers. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my phone off the dresser and spoke over him as he continued to ramble. “Good-bye, Dakota!”