Page 77 of Positively Pricked
Chapter 26
We'd just settled into our seats when the owner of the shipping company looked to Zane and said, "I was real sorry to hear about your grandfather."
Zane leaned back in his chair and gave the guy a dismissive look. "Yeah, I bet."
I looked from Zane to the poor sap who'd just made the mistake of acting like a decent human being. His name was Marco Sarkozy, and apparently, his family owned Ace Transports – the company that had been handling Bennington freight-shipping needs for over three decades. As for Marco himself, he was a heavy-set, middle-aged man with a ruddy completion that was looking ruddier with every passing moment.
His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
Zane shrugged. "I'm just saying. Sucks he's dead, huh?"
"Well, uh, yeah," Marco said. "As I said on the phone, you have my deepest condolences."
Zane made a low, scoffing sound. "Imeanit sucks for you."
Marco gave a confused shake of his head. "Sorry, I'm not following."
Watching this appalling exchange, I wanted to say something – anything – to break the growing tension, but honestly, what could I say?I'm sorry my boss is a jerk?
Iwassorry, but it's not like I could do a darn thing about it.
Zane tossed the guy a menu. "If you want breakfast, you'd better hurry."
Marco blinked. "What, why? Are they closing soon?"
"They'll close when I want them to." Zane glanced at his watch. "I'm thinking ten minutes."
"Ten minutes for what?" Marco asked. "To order?"
"No," Zane said. "To order, eat,andfuck off."
And there he was – the uncivilized tool I'd become all too familiar with.So much for that whole buttoned-down billionaire thing.
By now, Marco's cheeks were beet-red. "Sorry?" He reached up to tug at his collar. "I, uh, think you lost me there."
"If you want," Zane said, "you can skip the first two."
Marco shook his head. "The first two what?"
"Steps," Zane replied. "Go straight to 'fuck off', save the chef some trouble."
If I weren't so horrified, I might've scoffed out loud.Like Zane cared about the chef.
As Marco stammered out some incoherent response, I gave our surroundings a nervous glance. The place was beyond posh, with pristine white tablecloths and fresh flowers on every table. And yet, ours was the only table that was occupied.
The whole situation was entirely surreal, and yes, incredibly awkward.
Desperately, I was wishing that someone else had joined us for this godawful whatever-it-was. But no, there were just us three – me, the prick, and the poor slob who was still stammering.
I recalled what Zane had told me during my job interview. He'd warned me that he'd be ruffling a few feathers, and said that he wanted me to play the good cop to his bad cop.
Was I supposed to be doing thatnow? I gave Zane a sideways glance. I didn't know what he was thinking, but Ididknow that he wasn't above pulling out a night stick and beating the guy senseless.
I mean, if you'd kick someone out of their house, you were capable of anything, right?
I spoke up. "You know what we need?"
Zane's cool gaze remained on Marco. "What?"
