Page 81 of Smith

“From my experience there are two different kinds of Team Guys. The ones that will entertain the Frog Hogs when approached at the bar and engage in the game of color or number. With that comes feeding them the line of bullshit that they’re a trashman, a bank teller, or some variation of low-key job. They then nail the Frog Hog and get off knowing they’re a notch in her bedpost. Then there’s the other kind of Team Guy who clocks a Frog Hog a mile away, wants nothing to do with her or the game, and doesn’t engage.” I glanced over at Smith then back to Jonas. “Smith’s the first kind. You’re the other kind.”

I heard Smith chuckle, which I was hoping meant he wasn’t offended that I’d basically called him a man-whore.

“Color or number?” Jonas asked.

“Number.”

Jonas nodded, gave Smith another strange look, then came back to me.

“What’s your gut tell you about Phillip?”

“Phillip?”

“Think about every interaction you’ve had with him. What’s your gut say?”

I didn’t hesitate to answer since I’d already thought about it.

“I think he’s a nice guy, and because of that, his concern is genuine. I think him checking on me is strange but to him it’s not. I might not be his friend but I’m a woman who has trouble and he’s doing what he thinks is right.”

“So you think us looking into him is a waste of time.”

That wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact. I didn’t know where Jonas was leading this conversation but still I cautiously answered, “Yes.”

“But you’re deferring to us, to Smith, to do what we think is best for you and the case?”

“Jonas.” Smith rasped an unmistakable warning.

“I don’t understand the point you’re trying to make, but I already told you I’m not going to stick my nose into how you do your job. I’m not stupid enough to think my gut overrides your expertise.”

You’d have to be completely oblivious not to feel the tension as it swept over the table, and even then I was fairly certain even the most unaware person would still feel it. The vibe had gone from a simmering cauldron of lava to nuclear, and that atomic blast was coming from Smith and aimed directly at Jonas. Unfortunately, I was in the blast zone so I was being burnt to a crisp right along with Jonas. The difference was, Jonas looked pleased with himself, so the angry waves were deflecting off of him.

I, however, was completely in the dark and unprotected.

It was not a fun place to be.

Under the table, I kicked Jonas in the shin as hard as I could. The man didn’t so much as flinch. But his attention did come to me.

I narrowed my eyes.

He smiled.

Whatever was going on between him and Smith, he was damn happy about it.

The bubbly server stopped by the table. “Are we having any dessert?”

A gallon of frozen yogurt to cool off the two Neanderthals, I thought but didn’t verbalize.

“No thank you,” I answered when it was clear neither man was speaking.

After the server left, I asked, “Either of you gonna let me in on the death rays being shot across the table?”

“Nope.”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” I muttered and grabbed the last potato skin.

They could have their staring contest.

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