Page 24 of Sighs By the Sea

Since Tia is already dead, I figured the Chernobog was done with our family. I'm not a known rat. But still, there’s a contract on my life. Laughter slips from me. Not the happy kind, though. The kind that says a person is probably losing their mind.

It’s shit. And right in the middle is a cute detective that I enjoy spending time with far too much. The moment her text came through, I wanted to call her. I'm surprised I resisted for as long as I did. That doesn't mean I lied when I said it needed to be talked about in person, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about seeing her again.

Why did I have to kiss her? She’s a cop. Even as I think it, I roll my eyes. Cop, yes. But so damn cute I’m going crazy. Every spare moment, she pops into my mind, and damn it all if it’s not driving me mad.

I hop out of my new car. Or rather, my used car. Miranda had to co-sign the loan, which was a level of demeaning I don’t even want to think about. It’s sleek and gray, something just fancy enough to suit my taste. Though if I had it my way, it would be something more luxurious. Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose. My phone rings, and I click the button on the dashboard to answer it. "Hey, Tommy."

A loud crunching echoes in my car. "Yo."

I wince as the sound of food rolling around his mouth booms through my speaker. "Are you eating rocks?" I bark out.

"Gravel and screws," he deadpans. That has me cracking a smile.

"Is George okay?" I ask because he has to have a reason for calling.

"Oh, he's here?" At first, I think he's joking, but I hear him yell over his shoulder for Tilly, and they have a quick conversation about George that I catch snippets of. Tommy comes back to the phone. "He's great, man. Too quiet, but he ate his dinner, and they're watching/listening to a movie." I hear an explosion in the background. Doesn't sound very appropriate, but I decide it's not worth the argument.

"If you didn't know my son was there, why were you calling?"

"Oh! Pie!"

I'm so lost. "Pie?"

"Yes. My ma found this cafe on Coronado that has the best pie. We usually get a slice once a week together, but she's busy today. Wanna grab pie with me?" I blink a few times, staring at the slow-moving traffic in front of me.

Is he serious right now? "Uh, I'm in LA tonight."

"Well, I know that now. When you get back, though? They're open till eleven." I doubt I'll be back by then. It's about an hour and a half drive without traffic, which hopefully there will be none of once my meeting is over. I rub my hand over my face. This is beyond strange. "Tommy, am I in trouble or something?"

"What?" he asks with a chuckle. "No, man. I just want to get pie with you."

"Without an agenda?"

"Dude, aren't you bored all the time? I thought we could hang out."

He wants to hang out? Are we in high school again? Is this the equivalent of being asked to the cool kids’ table? He sighs loudly. "Grayson, I'm trying to be your friend. Am I doing this wrong? Should I offer cigarettes for your time or something?"

Another prison joke. Fantastic. But his offer of friendship, that is nice. Something I could use. It actually sounds…nice. "No payment necessary. I can't do pie tonight because…" I swear under my breath, but it might be nice to talk some of this out. "I have a date of sorts."

There's rustling on the phone, and I think I hear labored breathing, then a door slam. "Okay, I'm in the office. Spill." He sounds extremely giddy, and for some strange reason, I picture him laying on his stomach, his feet kicking back and forth like a teenager waiting for the juiciest gossip. Since I've been in his office, I know that's not the case, but a grin breaks out on my face regardless.

"With uh, Maggie."

"God, she's hot, Grayson."

"Hey," I warn. Both because his woman is my cousin and because I don't want him looking at Maggie like that.

"Relax, my cock doesn't work even for porn anymore. I gotta think of Tilly or it's like hot taffy down there. Flaccid city, man. A complete wet noodle. Giant noodle, but—"

"Would you please stop talking about your dick?" I snap out. He laughs because of course he does. "She's sweet, too. Looked like she got along with Georgie." She certainly does. "So what's the problem then?" he asks.

"We kissed."

"Go on." His tone is pensive and reserved, two very foreign sounds from him.

"She shut me down after."

He hisses through his teeth. "Ouch. So how'd you get the date?" I quickly run through what we're meeting about, and he hems and haws at all the right times. When I'm done, I ask, "How do I, uh play this? I mean, you have game, I think."

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