It was a lazy kinda morning.  So lazy, in fact, that Anton never bothered to change out of his usual sleep attire of tank top and boxer-briefs.  He hadn’t slept well the night before, to which he attributed it to thoughts of Stella.  So was he suffering from symptoms of Stellagitis?  Stellaphobia?  Grunting, he figured it was Stella-something.<br/><br/>Thoughts also shifted toward Guthrie, but mostly to his upstairs neighbor.  He held no control whatsoever on Guthrie.  Come to think of it, he held no control whatsoever on Stella, too.  His own actions were the only thing under his control, though in the present state of affairs, it was more like inaction.<br/><br/>While lounging on the couch, the hot debate for the morning was whether it was gonna be coffee or tea.  His phone, however, interrupted his thought process with an all too familiar chime.  A text message patiently awaited his attention.  Hmm, it’s from Stella.  The time it took him to open it equaled the time it took him to read it.  Well, that was certainly short and sweet, he thought, though in reality, it leaned obnoxiously more toward the short side, than the sweet side.  Tossing his phone onto the couch, he couldn’t blame her really, seeing as how a few of his deeds had been misinterpreted, through no fault of his own.  Easy to do, especially with no questions or explanations on hand.  Between Stella and Magdalene and Chloe, you’d need a freaking scorecard just to keep up!<br/><br/>A knock on the door derailed his concentration.  Oh geez, not again, Anton annoyingly thought, positive as to who was on the other side of that door.  Unable and unwilling to mask his irritation, he flung the door open and said, “Now what, Mags?!  I think I have enough intel on Guth . . .<br/><br/>Chloe stared back at him with a playful expression fixed on her face.  The cardboard tray she held had all but decided his coffee or tea conundrum.  A pair of 20-ounce cups from<i>Café Ladro </i>were held in place, while a couple of edible treats resided in their paper sleeves between the cups of java nirvana.<br/><br/>Slyly biting her lower lip, she gave him the once over from head to toe.  Then she gave him the thrice over from head to toe.  Chloe believed that this was loads better than the catalogs.  “Sorry to disappoint you, Anton,” she stated, though not truly sorry, stalling for time while he remained in front of her.  Having waved her pseudo apology off, he retreated toward the living room.<br/><br/>“Yeah, uh, sorry Chloe,” he said.  “Thought you were, um, somebody else.”<br/><br/>“Kinda got that, Anton,” she replied while closing the door with her shoe, thus allowing her that much more time to admire his butt as she followed him.  Definitely better than the catalogs, she decided.  Alas, her pleasing view would soon be altered, if his stroll down the hallway toward his bedroom was any indication.  Chloe continued to enjoy the sightseeing, until he disappeared from view.  Had she been quicker on the draw for him to remain clothed as he was, she realized she shoulda said,<i>You’re fine, Anton</i>.  Yeah, no shit about that, she thought with a mischievous smirk.  Finer than fine, in fact.  Sure enough, her host soon returned wearing a Santana t-shirt and sweatpants.  She grudgingly replaced her forlorn expression with a smile.<br/><br/>“I got you an<i>Americano </i>with some cream and their apricot turnover you like so much,” she informed him, handing over his beverage and pastry.  Did everyone possess intel on him and his favorites?<br/><br/>“Gee, thanks, Chloe,” he responded.  “To what do I owe this unexpected visitation, with treats, no less?” Anton asked, carefully sipping his<i>Americano.  </i>They were always notoriously hot.<br/><br/>“Well, firstly, I apologize for just dropping by unannounced,” she said contritely.  Anton nonchalantly waved her attempt at an apology aside.  Funny the kind of an effect an apricot turnover from<i>Café Ladro </i>has on one’s disposition.  Chloe smiled.  “Okay, two things I’d like to talk to you about then,” she stated.  “The easy one is Joel, the not-so-easy one is, uh, Stella.”  He raised an eyebrow at the last name mentioned.  With a wry smile, he thought,<i>Chloe’s </i>gonna give<i>me </i>advice about romantic matters?<br/><br/>Very curious to learn what she had to say, Anton pronounced, “Shoot.”<br/><br/>“Joel,” she began.  “Pfft,” Chloe briefly continued with an eye roll for emphasis.  “Thanks to you, Anton, when he stopped by to ask for another chance, I tried to focus on things he said and what his intentions might be.”  She sipped from her double mocha.  “And it sure didn’t take him long for those intentions to surface.  His cell rang, and as he fumbled with it from his pocket, he accidentally hit speaker.  Before he could switch it off, I heard a woman’s voice say,<i>Hey, babe, where are you</i>?  I recognized the voice, and let’s just say it wasn’t his mom.”<br/><br/>While she dabbed at her eyes, he cast his gaze downward, allowing her a moment of privacy.  Glancing back at her, Chloe’s eyes were as dry as the Sahara Desert.  Anton took that as a good sign, an indication that she had hopefully moved on from the scuzzbucket.  As if to drive that point home, she smiled at him, and he could tell it wasn’t a forced smile either.<br/><br/>“But enough about me,” she animatedly chirped.  And here we go, he thought, unsure as to whether or not he should be cringing.  “And, well, with Stella, all I have are a few questions.”<br/><br/>Anton replied, “And, again, shoot.”  No advice then, just questions, he thought, failing to determine which was worse.<br/><br/>Licorice had long ago recognized their current visitor as being the same one from a few nights ago.  Having removed herself from the cushioned bench, she was laying so close to Chloe’s right leg that she appeared to be surgically attached.  Her newest best friend instinctively stroked her side and scritched her belly.  The interrogation was about to begin.<br/><br/>“So, uh, how do you feel about Stella?” she tentatively asked.  This sounded like Magdalene all over again, though he doubted Chloe would be dropping Peter Guthrie’s name anytime soon.<br/><br/>“Good question,” he responded.  “Seems just when I think I’m getting closer, something or other fu-, er, messes it up and I’m back to square one.”  She smirked at his alternative of profanity.  “And as if that wasn’t bad enough, some dude she met at her music club appears to have eyes for her, amongst other things, I’m sure.  Hell, we haven’t even kissed yet.”  Sadly, his<i>Americano </i>was nearing its end.<br/><br/>Chloe perked up at the thought of him having competition, curious as to what mystery man looked like.  “Do you know who he is?” she asked.<br/><br/>A shrug was her immediate answer, followed by, “Not really, and I don’t care either way, but his name’s Peter Guthrie.”<br/><br/>“Oh yeah, the mall guy,” she casually offered, as if it should be common knowledge.<br/><br/>“You know about him?” Anton asked, both surprised and impressed.<br/><br/>“Anton, I love to shop.  Of course I know about him,” she said matter-of-factly.  “I mean, I don’t know personal details about the man, like his birthday or whatever, but I do know what he does.  I’m so excited about the mall he’s developing nearby!”  Chloe just about squealed with delight, while Anton rolled his eyes at the phenomena known as Women & Shopping.  “And you’re wrong.  You did kiss her.  I saw it after her concert out there in the hallway.”<br/><br/>Brow furrowed at trying to recall what she was referring to, it suddenly clicked into place.  “That wasn’t a kiss,” he corrected her.  “It was a peck on the cheek, and those don’t count.  Cripes, I kiss my grandma on the cheek!  See what I mean?”  Chloe laughed, knowing there was nothing further to discuss about kissing cheeks.<br/><br/>“You should take her somewhere.”<br/><br/>Anton playfully frowned at her.  “And where exactly did you have in mind?  London?  Paris?”<br/><br/>“No, nothing like that, silly,” she said with a chuckle.  “Not yet, anyway.  You, uh, do know the agency owns those two cabins, right?”  Chloe winked at him.  “One by the lake, the other up in the mountains.”<br/><br/>Eyeing her sinisterly, he pointed out, “The cabins?!  Seriously?!  That’s homerun, outta-the-park territory.  I haven’t reached first base yet.  Hell, I’m probably still in the on-deck circle, maybe not even that far.  Still on the bench, I’ll bet.”  They laughed at the baseball analogies.<br/><br/>For the next few minutes, purring was the only audible sound in the apartment.