I knew a little Spanish, what with having four Mexican ex-boyfriends, and I think I caught some naughty words but I couldn’t be sure.
He reverted to English.
“You cal having a knife at your throat nothing?” I didn’t answer, thinking maybe silence was the way to go.
Wrong again.
He got closer and because he was already pretty close, this “closer” was predatory.
“You had a knife to your throat before?”
“Not that I can recal ,” I told him.
His black eyes got kind of a scary glitter.
“Would you forget something like that?” he asked.
“Probably not,” I al owed.
He came nearer and, at this point, his body was brushing mine.
“Why didn’t you cal the police?” he asked.
“It didn’t seem that big a deal,” I answered.
“Someone holds a knife to your throat, it’s a big deal.
You report it to the police.”
Normal y, I would agree with him.
“Dammit, Jet, for once, talk to me,” he said and it certainly wasn’t a request.
I stayed silent. Not being a bitch, mainly because I didn’t know what to say.
“Do you know Slick?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Vance says he was after your Dad.”
I nodded my head.
“Do you know what this is about?”
I shook my head again but then I said, “Slick told me Dad owed him something.”
I could tel by the look on Eddie’s face that this was not good news and my heart started beating even faster.
“I know Slick,” Eddie said, “and Slick is not a nice guy.”
“I got that impression when I met him,” I agreed.
At that answer, there was more teeth clenching.
“Where’s your Dad?” Eddie asked.
“He’s coming in this morning for donuts.” Eddie’s free hand came up and he dragged his fingers through his hair. He did this occasional y, pul ing his hand through his hair. At close range, it was fascinating. But then again, at deep range it was fascinating too; it was just that I’d never seen him do it close up.