“I like them all. But for the record: I like plain potato chips. The ones that fold over are my favorite. And half-sour pickles,” I said, picking up one. “This is too much food for us non-giants,” I told him, gesturing with my pickle toward the cushion beside me. “Want to help me finish it?”
He looked conflicted for a moment but eventually dropped down and reached for one of the baby dill pickles.
“What’s your favorite chip?” I asked, reaching for one of the plain ones.
“Cool Ranch. Used to steal those little snack-sized bags from a local convenience store as a kid.”
“I’ve never stolen anything.”
“You’ve never needed to.”
“I think I was too much of a coward to do it.”
“Coward?” he asked, shooting me a look with lowered brows. “Think maybe it’s more like a strong conscience.”
“Dunno,” I said, the drinks making me a little confessional. “I’ve never been very daring.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“Everyone around here is daring.”
“Don’t mean you’re not as good because you like different shit.”
The noise I made must not have satisfied him.
“You respect Willa, right?”
“Willa is amazing.”
“She doesn’t do crazy shit.”
“I mean, her business dealings can be crazy.”
“And you create dick-filled divorce parties,” he said, making a choked laugh escape me. “That’s its own kind of crazy.”
“That was a really fun party,” I said, handing him half of the sandwich before reaching for my own. “You know… until…”
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
“Did I miss the part where you told Cameron to try to shoot us?”
“No. But I created that monster.”
“I think you protected a little boy who needed it. What he became after you went away to prison, that’s on him, not you.”
“He’s targeting you because of me.”
“Well, if it is any comfort to you, I’m sure he’d rather attack and kill you.”
That got a surprised snort out of Perish.
“I’d rather it was me.”
“I’m fine,” I reminded him.
