Phil hated the fifth of the month. The landlord always made the rounds for rent and he never got his check until the seventh. It was a game of cat and mouse that they always played. Phil would just keep the apartment silent until the next day.

But in that silence, he could hear a lot.

And today? He heard yelling from down the hall.

"Let me in, you bitch!" an angry man pounded on a door, rattling the hall lights.

Phil stood when he heard Melinda's voice reply. "Not by the hairs on your chinny chin chin, ass."

A smile spread on his face. He'd always seen her as the "don't mess with me" type. She was calm, composed and didn't take any crap from anyone. But she could also be warm and kind. This made her a great bartender.

"I'll kick this door in!" the man shouted.

Phil didn't like that. He pulled his sidearm from his coat that was hanging in his closet and slinked over to his door, opening it enough to see.

A burly, brutish looking man was pounding on Melinda's door, his clothing and… pungent fragrance… let Phil know the man was obviously drunk and had seen better days.

Phil tucked his gun in the back of his jeans and stepped out. "Hey, buddy. Mind keeping it down. Trying to practice that diminished fifth on my bass."

The man spun around, a little too fast it seemed. His blurry eyes focused somewhat on Phil. "Shut up and get out of here."

Phil shook his head. "I think you might want to take a walk." One step closer. The hallway didn't seem so long now. Although, if it was, he would still run it to keep her safe.

The man pulled a knife from his pocket. "Whatcha gonna do if I don't?" he slurred.

Phil took another step. "Look, man, just go sleep it off."

The man made a sloppy lunge and Phil could have easily dodged it if he hadn't looked up at that moment to see Melinda coming out. The distraction was just enough to let the knife slip across his left side, slicing his t-shirt and drawing blood.

At that sight, Melinda's eyes darkened and Phil wasn't sure if he wanted to really see what was going to happen next.

She was on the man in an instant, twisting his arm painfully behind his back and lodging the knife into his shoulder. "Get out now," she hissed, shoving him down the stairs.

Phil put a hand to his side, watching her in awe. He knew she was tough but the speed and skill she used made her… even hotter than he thought possible.

Satisfied that the man was no longer a threat, she turned to Phil with her eyes back to that warm, soft glow. "You're hurt," she observed as she came over. "Come on. Let me help you." She put a hand on his arm, guiding him into her apartment.

Oddly, the only thing Phil could think was: "Hey, it's one way to avoid the landlord."

Melinda's apartment was tidy, organized. It even had a very zen feeling about it. He probably could have appreciated more if his side didn't sting like a bitch.

"Sit," she instructed him. "And take off your shirt." She dipped into the bathroom.

His breath hitched a little as he tugged off the cut and bloodied shirt. He was undressing in the apartment of Melinda May, the woman he'd had a high school style crush on for the last seven or eight months.

His hand came up, gently touching the scar near his heart. He'd blocked out what happened and wondered what he was going to tell her when she asked about it. The jagged lines of the raised flesh were torn, not surgical. Something had happened to him but he was damned if he knew what it was.

She came back out with antiseptic and a small sewing kit. "You should have moved," she quipped as she set the supplies out.

"Planned to," he confirmed. "Just kinda didn't expect your involvement."

He held his breath as she moved closer, smelling of lavender and vanilla. Quickly, she pulled his gun from the back of his jeans. "And this?"

"Plan B."

She grinned and set it aside. "Dale was harmless." She soaked a cloth in the antiseptic and started cleaning his wound.

Phil bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking his manly face. "Yeah. This is just a beesting."

She chuckled. "I see." Carefully, she began sewing the wound. "Thank you," she whispered.

He grinned. "It was nothing."

"True." Her eyes twinkled at the taunt.

His smile was bright now. "Gee, thanks." It was a nice distraction from the needle, though.

Melinda finished up her stitching and gently taped on a bandage. "Good as new." Her eyes rose up his chest, resting on the scar. But she didn't ask. She simply let those delicate fingers trace up to it, outlining it with her touch.

Phil took a deep breath. "Melinda…"

She looked into his eyes, inching closer…

As a knock came at the door. "May! Rent!"

A slew of words in Chinese left her mouth. Phil was pretty sure they weren't nice words. Melinda hopped over to her purse, yanking out a check. He didn't have any time to hide from sight when she threw open the door, shoving the rent into the landlord's hand and slamming the door in his face.

Phil chuckled, reaching for his shirt. "And on that note…"

She grinned. "Thanks again."

He nodded. "Anytime." With a wink, he headed back down the hall.