“Mom is so going to kill me,” Stacey whispered, clutching a beige throw pillow to her chest. She looked up. “How am I going to explain this?” Roth pursed his lips. “Gas-line explosion?” Stacey repeated the words dimly as he continued. “I can torch the place, make it a little more authentic. Won’t damage the upstairs if you don’t want me to.” “Had a lot of practice with this, have you?” Zayne asked drily. “Ah, when Thumper comes off, it’s always good to go with the old gas-line excuse. It’s handy.”
