“—in handcuffs.” I smile to myself and make sure she can hear it. “So I’ll ask you again. Are you free today or do I have to call the cops?”
Her tone changes instantly.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stay. No need to freak out.”
“Good.”
“Jesus. You’re crazy, lady.”
I laugh. “You don’t even know the half of it.”
I hang up feeling slightly better. One small victory in a week that feels like hell.
When I finally lock up therestaurant, the place is almost empty. Chairs stacked, lights dimmed, the last of the dishes drying behind the bar. I’m just about ready to heave a sigh of relief and call it a night.
Then I realize one of the men from earlier is still here.
“Sir,” I say as I wipe down the counter. “We’re closing for the night. Can I get you anything for the road?”
He looks up at me. He seems calm, unhurried. Not at all like someone who just realized they were overstaying their welcome at a classy uptown joint.
Then again, he isn’t exactly dressed for it either. His suit is two sizes too big and his shirt looks like it was just yanked out of a department store box.
“No,” he says with a faint Russian accent. “Long night?”
Getting longer every second you’re here.“Something like that.” I keep wiping the bar, hoping he’ll take the hint.
“Got a kid to tuck in?”
My hand pauses on the rag. “What did you just say?”
He shrugs. “Just making conversation. How old?”
“Who?”
“The kid.”
“Don’t have one.” I move down the bar, putting some space between us. “Sir, we really should be closing soo?—”
“You ever work at clubs downtown?”
My back stiffens.
For a second, I’m not in this restaurant anymore. I’m seven years younger, music thundering through a hallway, Nico’s hands on my hips.
I shove the memory down. “No.”
“Really.”
Something about the way he says it makes my skin prickle.
I turn back slowly.
“I don’t mean to be rude, sir, but I really have to close.”
He studies me for a moment longer, then smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I croak out.
