Chapter 2 #2
“None of your business,” I snapped. I’d insisted Gentry keep his mouth shut about our shacking up. It might have been the only thing he’d ever done right.
The quiet moment and the tight-lipped glare from Tyre turned me honest. “Fine. We drunk-slept together, and it turned into more. But we’ve been over since last year. He probably didn’t tell you because it wasn’t important.”
I laughed bitterly and sipped at the beer to cover the stupid sound, remembering how Gentry had brought home a bottle of sparkling wine and a half-dead dandelion to convince me to stay. He thought he had a big heart, but the asshole couldn’t understand I wanted no part of his harem plan.
Tyre sucked on his mod, hollowing his cheeks. Smoky vapor trailed out of his nostrils. Some women would die to get into his pants. Not me. He was the type I couldn’t run away from fast enough. A walking HR violation who cared about money more than anything else.
He leaned back and puffed on his mod. “Crap way to go, puking up your guts.”
“Did they say that?” I ran my hand through my hair. Tyre’s face had taken on a fuzziness. How had half a beer left me blurry? I needed real food.
“Nah, I just assumed. Haven’t had anyone die on me in a while.”
“That’s reassuring.” Goddamn it, how could Gentry be dead? He owed me two hundred on top of the four he’d promised.
I rolled the pen between my fingers.
Maybe I could pawn it. I stuffed it back into my purse, wiping the ink slime under the table.
Someone would have to deal with Gentry’s body.
He had no relatives, and his so-called friends would never show up to do something for free.
My mom and aunt were dead, and friends were part of the past. Unless Jules showed up, there’d probably be nobody at my funeral either.
Now, not even Gentry. I wondered if he’d left a will. Maybe I was an heiress.
Tyre rested his elbows on the table, looking me over. “Hey, Gentry’s been doing the cash drop on Fridays. You wanna do it tonight since you’re already here? It’ll be ready at three.”
Ha, that was fast. He’s dead, and you’re like, so, where do I find a replacement? You bastard.” I guess Gentry really was nothing more to him than a few extra coins to add to his pile. At least, the job he was offering wouldn’t break any laws. I was determined to get my PI provisional license.
“Thanks.” His front gold tooth glinted in the downlight. I shifted to ease the ache in my gut, pushing the beer bottle farther away as if that would help.
His lips pursed smugly. “It’s a C-note if you’re interested.”
I didn’t get paid until Tuesday, so now a hundred bucks was a frigging fortune. Quick cash trumped a warm bed and a shower, even mourning a dead ex-lover, but not by much.
“Really, I’m sorry he’s dead, but you know… That’s life, right? Here today…” Tyre rubbed a finger over his bottom lip.
“Quit while you’re ahead. I’ll work for you, but I want one-fifty, and the cash up front—and pizza, and a phone charger.” I burped with beer-cracker reflux. The pizza wasn’t sounding so good now. My head pounded.
“Broke?”
“Yeah, my landlord is an ass. The building just clicked over thirty years, and now it’s not under low-income regulations. He’s going to squeeze us all out by raising the rent because he’s got a buyer. I need to find a new place before I starve to death.”
“Jules has a charger behind the bar. You can eat with the band. Their order needs to get placed ASAP anyway. You can lift the cash out of the drop.”
I glanced over Tyre’s shoulder. Clove-smoke guy was sitting like a frigging leather god, his endless legs sprawled, and his arms draped over a booth top as if he owned the place. I swallowed and forced myself to stop staring.
What was wrong with me? My ex was probably in the city morgue, and I was eyeing club candy.
Clove-smoke got up and strode onto the dance floor, his smooth gait sexy as hell.
I turned my focus back to Tyre, flipping my hair back to get his attention before he looked over his shoulder to see what I was so interested in.
“Give me the nine on Gentry’s drop. I did one once for you, a while back. Same plan?”
Tyre narrowed his eyes in that I-know-you’re-changing-the-subject-but-I-don’t-care look. “The bank is different. Jules closes, I count, pass you the drop, you make the run to the credit union, and we all go home.”
“Credit union, huh? Offhand, why don’t you do the bank runs yourself?” The laundering scheme played in my head like a wash and spin cycle. How Tyre remained so clean had a lot to do with how squeaky his money stayed.
“Cameras, sweets. I don’t look handsome on bank security feeds,” Tyre said, sitting back with a bleached-toothed smirk.
“Fine. Where do I get the cash for the band’s food?”
“Jules has it covered. The order will come to the stage door. You can grab their leftovers or order yourself a salad.”
“You’re a prick.”
“Yeah, so shoot me some pussy sometime,” he said, sliding out of the booth with another toothy grin. I swallowed, holding down both the beer and the snappy comeback.