Page 57 of Throwing Shade
Vikram’s face contorted. “I don’t do friends.”
“Challenge accepted.” Throwing a finger wave over my shoulder, I stepped out into the foyer of the carpark.
Laurent jabbed the call button.
“Should I take your thunderous disposition to mean that you don’t take your aunt at face value?” I said carefully.
“Yeah, because I’m not a fucking idiot. I told you not to speak to anyone. I said it was dangerous. You don’t listen.”
I got into the elevator. “Perhaps if you had thoroughly explained who I was not to speak to and the reason for it, I would have conducted myself differently. I have no idea what the stakes are if I mess up! And you let me walk into that blind.”
Laurent frowned and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You’re right. I should have been clear.” He said it stiffly, but I’d take the apology.
I smoothed down my sweater, my chin notched up. “Thank you. And it’s not like I was randomly chatting people up. I was trying to get information about Jude. Besides, if anyone was in danger from those encounters, it was me, not you.”
“Those?” He punched the button to shut the doors, his eyes emerald green lasers. “Who else was there other than Tatiana?”
I waved a hand. Details. “What does she want with me?”
“It depends on what she thinks our relationship is.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you. Newsflash: plenty of people are interested in me for me.”
“Not Tatiana.”
“Why?” I poked him. “Answer me.”
“Let’s just say she doesn’t like what I do for a living.” He strode out of the elevator, back into the carpark.
I dropped it, for now. “Did you get your information?”
The sun had set and, outside the garage, street lamps glowed cheerily along the boulevard.
“Yeah.”
“Do people often punch you in the throat? Because seriously.”
He fished his keys out of his pocket. “You asked me a yes or no question and I answered it.”
“You know I wanted you to elaborate.”
Laurent’s footsteps rang out in the parkade. “Heh. Yes, but you’re easy to rile.”
Delilah grabbed his ear and twisted.
“Merde.” Laurent narrowed his eyes. “I warned you about hitting me.”
“That wasn’t a hit. That was a side effect of being perimenopausal. Hormone fluctuations. So sorry. Now speak. You’re on the clock.”
Laurent circled his motorcycle, inspecting it for dings or scratches.
“The nearest car is parked three spaces over. Your precious bike is fine.” I twirled my finger in a get on with it motion.
He nudged me out of his way and unlocked the helmets. “There’s this dybbuk that leads a gang of Ohrists. Last time I closed in on them, they’d already relocated.”
“You want the dybbuk in charge? Who is it? Someone you know?” My curiosity resulted in a helmet being shoved at me but zero answers. “Your conversation skills are so consistent,” I marveled. “Some people might even call them predictable.”
He bared his teeth at me. “Some people can bite me.”
