In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

instant karma, who can beat that?"
Bobby was back with his drill and the hardware. "She's some
lady, Ula. There was the window, remembah?" Bobby mused, and
drilled.
"That was me," Sandro said wearily.
"Bet she made you. And the laundry door, two times!" He
showed two fingers, making a point.
"Yes, yes, my room," Sandro said, his head back against the
couch. That explained the deadbolts.
Bobby was finished in no time. All she needed now was a new
computer and cables to see what if anything had survived.
The hard drives were fried, their data lost in the ether. The
hospital grade steel EEG set-up was fine. So were the disks, and of
course, the off site storage. Never had she been so thankful for her
exemplary computer habits.
Messages flashed from Dick, Beatrice, Ira and Züt. The vultures
circled overhead.
She sat on the table, watching him stretched out on the couch,
dark brown circles around his eyes. The Madonna and her angel still
beamed down on them, wistful and calm.
Nada te turbe...Penny recited the mantra to herself as she
turned off the lights and stretched out beside him and trembled from
deep within. The building joined her as the Broadway express rumbled
through, not so far below.
Awake, he pulled her over on top of him and gently rocked her.
"Shhh, shhh," he whispered into the enveloping stillness and kissed her
ear. Then the phone rang
They waited until the machine kicked in and listened to the
message. From Dick.
"You'll never get away with this, you big cunt! Prepare for some
fireworks. That one armed slob on Bouillon with his pack of lies? You
got one hell of a lawsuit to look forward to, kiddo"
"Shit, shit shit!What do we do now?"
"We get on a plane."
"What the fuh―"
"Get dressed, get your passport. A few disks. Gear is foutu,
anyway. Pack the paintings, you have the cases? I get my lute and the
crucifix. Here is my card, you make reservations."
"Wait, Concorde is history, remember?"
He was gone. Wait! Who or what could be waiting up there for
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