She laughed. “Just saying, you’re covered. See you at eight thirty. Wear something warm and gym shoes. Gotta be prepared to run. Later.”
“Run?” I said into the dead phone.
I sat there a second and then flipped the phone shut and slid it on the bar.
Hank was watching me.
I put the loaded chip into my mouth.
I chewed.
My eyes widened and I think I had a mini-culinary-orgasm.
After I swal owed, I breathed. “This stuff is great,” then I dipped in another chip.
Hank’s hand caught my wrist with the chip halfway to my mouth, my mouth al the way open to receive the chip. My eyes moved to him.
“Stun guns? Bodyguards?” he asked.
I closed my mouth and told him what Al y told me.
He let go of my wrist and sat back. His elbow went to the bar and his hand went to take a swipe at his forehead.
“Christ,” he muttered.
I ate my chip and ignored him. Then I ate another one.
He looked at me. “You wouldn’t feel like going back to Sweet Agreeable Roxie for a while, going to the station with me tonight, hanging out while I work?” That sounded about as fun as sitting in the control room.
I wasn’t al -fired sure about this haunted house business but I wasn’t going to hang out watching my nails grow at the station while Hank worked.
I shook my head.
“Fuck,” he said.
“We need to go back to your place,” I told him. “I have to change clothes. Which reminds me, I need to cal Vance.” Hank did a slow blink. “Why do you need to cal Vance?”
“He bought me some clothes and some Keds. Al y mentioned I need to wear gym shoes and the only ones I own are the ones Vance bought me. I need to pay him back.”
“I’l pay him back,” Hank answered immediately.
I dipped another chip. “No, I’l pay him back. Do you have him programmed into your phone?”
I put the chip into my mouth and held out my hand for his phone.
“You aren’t cal in’ Vance,” he said, taking his own chip.
“Why not?”
He chewed and swal owed. “Because you aren’t.” I stared at him, thinking I was beginning to get angry.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t like the idea of you talkin’ to Vance.” Okay, I was definitely beginning to get angry. “Why not?” I repeated.
“Vance is a player and he’s playin’ you.”
It was my turn to blink. “I don’t think so,” I said.