JP’s studying a piece, sitting down on a bench as he looks at a picture of an old church picnic during the Great Depression. “It’s a lovely piece,” he says. “Nice color,” he adds dryly. Given that it’s a black and white photo on canvas, I think it’s his version of a joke.
“Sunday Spring,” I offer. “One of my favorites in this collection.”
“You called this meeting. Supposedly something important? I don’t believe it's this.” He points at the large canvas in front of us, already dismissing it.
“The last job, the laptop I gave you. I need it back.”
JP scoffs, side-eyeing me. “No laptop. Gave it to my son. He took it to work.”
“Shit. Are you serious?”
JP nods. “Why do you need it?”
“There’s something important on it that I didn’t realize was there.”
JP, ever the financially focused criminal, hums in interest. “Valuable?”
“Not quite, but it definitely has high sentimental value to a certain party,” I tell him, shading the truth a little. If JP thinks he can get money out of this, he will. I’d prefer not to do that if I can avoid it. “Look, I’ll buy your kid a replacement, an upgrade even, whatever. I just need it back.”
JP eyes me for a long moment, trying to figure out how much I’m lying to him. Oh, I know he’s assuming some lie. That’s the way people like us operate. But it’s in the levels of deceit that we build our trust, ironically. After a moment, figuring he doesn’t have anything to lose, he nods. “You know Pupusa?”
“Salvadoran restaurant,” I reply, knowing the name.
“He just got started there, trying to do it legit,” JP says. “He works in the kitchen, name’s Manuel. Don’t fuck around with my kid.”
Or else doesn’t need to be said. Instead, I nod evenly. “I won’t. This isn’t about that. Just the laptop. I know it’s a big leap of faith to share that info with me.”
“Very much so.”
I give him a second nod. “A sign of our friendship.”
He nods back, but the truth is unspoken. JP and I aren’t friends.
Colleagues?
Maybe.
Accomplices? Definitely.
But I really won’t hurt his kid. That’s not who I am. Or at least, I try to not be that guy, and in this instance, I can fulfill this promise to JP while fulfilling the one I made to Poppy.
“I’ll let my son know you’re coming.” JP gets up, rubbing his hands together and leaving without offering a handshake. A minute later, Poppy comes back, finding me sitting alone and still studying the landscape.
“Let’s eat.”
She turns her head, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. I’ve intentionally pushed her away, treated her like crap . . . and now I want food?
“Seriously?”
Chapter 12
Poppy
He doesn’t say much on the drive across town, but that’s okay. Because despite all his harshness, all his mean words, the fact that I’m sitting in the passenger seat of his truck says a lot.
I’m still curious, though, when we pull up in front of a restaurant called Pupusa. “We’re here.”
“I figured,” I tell Connor as he gets out, once again not coming around to open my door. It’s pretty damn clear what he’s doing, trying to push me away. And if I were smart, I’d probably listen to his warnings and stop trying.
We go inside and sit down in a booth. The place is bright with colors, from the orange-red of the floor tiles to the vibrant blue spelling out the restaurant name in a mural along one wall.
Connor looks around while I take a quick glance at the laminated menu, unsure what he’s looking for. Finally, I decide that there are things more important than my grumbling stomach.
“Did you get my laptop?” I ask for the tenth time. Yup, I decided that if he’s going to try and push me away, I’m going to show him how doggedly stubborn I can be. At first, he didn’t answer, but I knew I was making progress when he resorted to grunts. I need some answers, damn it. I need my laptop. So I’ll keep asking. “Helloooo . . . did you get it?” Make that eleven times.
“No.”
“So we’re grabbing a quick bite and then going to get it, I presume?” It’s a question but also . . . not. If he thinks filling me with tamales is going to get me to leave him alone, I’ll prove to him that I can tamale him right under the table.