Rosie said as she led Latrice into the kitchen. It was a beautiful kitchen. The floor, walls, and countertops were all tiled in a mottled tan and brown. There was a big sub-zero refrigerator built into the wall with a shiny stainless-steel door, dark wood cabinets. But it was a slovenly mess. Dirty dishes, pots, and pans filled both sides of the sink and covered most of the counter space. Spilled food littered the floor, along with a couple of children’s toys, some pet toys, and scattered bits of dry pet food. An archway opened onto a dining area, but it was dark in there. On the floor in the archway was what looked to Latrice like a dog turd. She was grateful that cookies were baking. The delicious aroma probably covered other smells. “I got hot coffee, if you want,” Rosie said. “And we got lotsa booze.” “Coffee would be nice.” Latrice wanted to see if Rosie could find a clean cup. Rosie opened one of the cupboards. It was empty except for three lonely coffee mugs. “You want cream?
