Page 93 of The Guy in the Alley

Trace laughed under his breath and eased back. “I’ll let you deal with that. Drive safe.” He offered a two-finger salute to Ma and Alvin. “Looking forward to the next dinner, you two.”

“It was wonderful meeting you, Trace,” Ma said.

“Bye!” Alvin waved.

I chuckled and draped an arm around Alvin’s shoulders, steering him down the sidewalk. “Let’s get you home to your fish and videos, small fry.”

“I’m actually gonna listen to a podcast when I get home,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I’ll probably need to go to the bathroom soon too. I ate so much.”

Yeah, legit. He never ceased to amaze me on that front. Granted, he could eat a lot at Ma’s too, but this was next level.

“All right, Ma. We’re alone,” I said. “Fire away.”

She pushed up her glasses and linked her arm with mine. “Sorry, sweetie, I don’t have anything to say. I already talked to Trace.”

That wasn’t reassuring one fucking bit.

She patted my arm. “I like him, son. Just…make sure you take care of yourself. You’re not a spring chicken anymore, and he’s very young.”

And the hits kept coming.

“It wouldn’t kill you to pick a salad every now and then,” she finished.

I frowned. “It might.” I was messing with her.

She sucked her teeth and shook her head. “I’m telling you. Those steaks go straight to your heart.”

What the fuck.

Why would she remind me of that shit on my birthday? Especially when I indulged once a fucking week. For living above a sports bar, my diet was incredible. Unlike Trace, I didn’t have to force myself to eat vegetables with my protein, and unlike Alvin, I wasn’t obsessed with deep-fried food.

CHAPTER TEN

Trace Kalecki

I was ready to collapse. It wasn’t that late, around ten PM, but the birthday dinner and the busy service that had followed had drained me of energy. Tension too, in the birthday dinner’s case. I’d had these pent-up worries, and now they were just gone.

I yawned and walked out of the bathroom with my towel wrapped around my hips.

Ben was still busy sorting through gas receipts in the front room, so I made a beeline for the kitchen to put together a snack. I was still full-ish from his dinner, but I wanted a little something.

“You snackish, hon?” I hollered, opening the fridge.

“Always, but Ma gave me a spiel about how I gotta take care of myself since I’m so fucking old.”

I chuckled and hauled out fixings for more waffles. One toaster waffle wasn’t going to kill him. But Elsie probably had a point. We should both eat better.

“Pick me up after work tomorrow, and we’ll go by Aldi’s together,” I said.

“Speaking of, work approved a garage space closer to here,” he mentioned. “Now I don’t have to walk seven fucking blocks.”

“That’s good news.”

He was a stickler for doing shit right with the company vehicle, which I obviously understood. The garage space in question had to be covered by their insurance, seeing as cars like those often got broken in to for the tools.

After preparing two waffles, smothering them in whipped cream and strawberry preserves, I headed for the front room and sat down next to him.

He had an old Sox game running in the background, and Ziggy was dozing off between his feet.

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