“I should get going myself,” I say. “I have a big day tomorrow, and I still have some stuff to read through with the Rooftop Killer.”
“Any new leads?”
“A new so-called witness, but her testimony has holes.”
“Shit’s rough.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
He gives me a chin lift. “You doin’ okay in the top job?”
“It’s… different. I have to manage my time better, and organizing is always a challenge. The boys keep me in the loop with everything, and I trust them. In fact, we have an amazing team now.”
Yes, it’s amazing what a cleanout can do.
“The boys?”
“Carl and Luke, my old buddies.”
“They seem like good guys.”
“They’re the best,” I say, meaning every word. “A lot of shit went down at that station, and we all lived to tell the tale. I can’t say the same for half of them. It still haunts me to this day. The entire force was under surveillance. I’m all for it, don’t get me wrong, but I was naïve, I think. I always thought crooked cops were few and far between.”
“That’s because your mind is pure,” he says. “You can’t help it.”
“It’s notthatpure.” My tone suggests what I’m referring to, and his eyes darken.
“Are you tryin’ to kill me?”
I shrug. “Not at all, but like I said before, you brought this self imposed bout of celibacy, not me.”
“I thought women wanted all that chivalry crap. Here I am, tryin’ to be a good guy, and you want pepperoni.”
“Honestly? I mean, I get where you’re coming from, but you know everything about me, so the reasons you wanted to wait aren’t that solid.”
He stares at me. “I don’t know everythin’.”
“Try me,” I say. “I’ll ask you a question about me, and you answer. That way we’ll see just how good you are.” This is what a freaking beer does to you — truth serum. I’m such a lightweight, which is why I barely ever drink because verbal diarrhea inevitably follows.
“This is a fun game.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Shoot.”
“Favorite color.”
“Easy, blue. You never were a pink girlie.”
“Shoe size.”
“Five, do you still shop in the kids department?”
I throw a piece of popcorn at his head. “Funny. Favorite show?”
“It was Grey’s Anatomy because you couldn’t stand watchin’ unrealistic cop shows that solve cases in one episode with technology that isn’t even real.”
I blink at him. Okay, well, he may be right on those things. “Favorite number.”
“Twenty-two —it’s your birthday and the same as your basketball team jersey in college. It’s cute they let you play since you can’t reach the net, even when you jump.”
I throw a handful at him this time and he ducks, laughing. I’m making a mess of his couch, but who cares? “You’re a comedian tonight, I’ll have you know I was very good at sports.”
