Page 92 of The Guy in the Alley

It’d prompted Ben to rank Northern European countries according to their licorice skills. His favorite kind came from Denmark, then Sweden followed, and Norway, Germany… I forgot the rest.

My old man liked that shit too. It was foul. And Armas, our weekend security guard, had inherited that like from his Finnish family or whatever. There was something seriously wrong with people from Northern Europe.

What kind of words were Heksehyl Haxvral anyway? It sounded like something you choked out before you barfed.

The second or third time Elsie yawned—all subtle behind her hand—Ben quirked a smile and asked, “You ready to go, Ma?”

She smiled back. “It’s all this food. I feel like I need a nap.”

“Yeah, me too.” Ben flicked me a quick glance as he finished his coffee.

Oh, I wouldn’t turn down a nap with him. I’d even keep my hands over the covers, figuratively speaking.

Unfortunately… “Some of us gotta get back to work.” I yawned too, triggered by Elsie.

“But you’re not working too late, are you?” Ben asked.

I shook my head. “Just a couple more hours.”

He inclined his head. “That’ll give me time to bring these two home and then take Pippen out.”

It was a plan.

He nodded back toward the bar next. “Mind getting me the check?”

Was he serious? “On your birthday?”

He gave me a look. “I invited yous here, genius. I’m fuckin’ payin’.”

Jesus Christ. I slid out of the booth. “Fine, but we’re gonna fight about this later. There are limits, man.”

He winked. “Can’t wait.”

Jagoff.

* * *

Trace followed us outside the bar, and I didn’t give a fuck anymore. I dipped down and kissed him as my ma put on her scarf.

Who had I been kidding anyway? She already knew. Hell, even Alvin had asked if Trace was my boyfriend.

Now, that was a weird fucking word.

Boyfriend.

He was much more than that.

“I’ll see you later.” I cupped his cheek and kissed him once more.

He smiled and slid his fingers underneath one of my suspenders. “This is good progress. So open and official.”

“Right?” I matched his grin, one part relieved, one part fucking dazed.

This kind of happiness didn’t exist in my world.

“Dad? I thought you said you didn’t know if he was your boyfriend.”

Thanks, son.

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