Art steps in. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? We’ve been working overtime to keep your name clean from the bullshit you’ve been stirring up. And now you’re putting hands on my girl?”
Benny straightens, waxy blond hair falling across his face.
“Yeah, well, maybe your girl should learn her place,” he says. “And nobody’s asking the mayor’s kid to clean up after me. Believe it.”
He spits the wordmayorlike it tastes rotten, and Art stiffens.
Genevieve jumps forward, rising on her tiptoes to get in Benny’s face. “Shut the hell up, Benny. Jesus, this whole town’s run by douchebags. What are you even doing here?”
“Ask your boyfriend, Gin. I was invited.”
Art sighs, grabs Benny by the shoulder, and drags him toward the storage room. “We’ll be right back.”
My brows shoot up.
Benny and Art have never gotten along, so why the sudden buddy-buddy?
Genevieve’s dusting herself off as if Benny’s germs sprayed on her clothes like grit. “Benny’s a creep.”
“He grows on you.”
Not really.
“Like mold, maybe,” she says.
My lips twitch.
She glances down the hall. “Should we go with them?”
“Weshouldn’t do anything.”
Genevieve scoffs, shooting me a look that could kill, and then moves into the small back office across the hall.
I follow, propping my shoulder against the door frame and crossing my arms.
I’ve always been good at watching people—recognizing their tells. You train long enough, you start clocking weaknesses like every person is a potential opponent.
What side they favor. How they stand in line at the grocery store. Which hand they use to scratch their neck or which leg they rest their weight on.
Right now, Genevieve is rattled.
Sure, her chin is held high, but her mouth is pressed tight and she’s shifting on her feet like she can’t get steady. Every sooften, she taps her ear, twisting the lobe. That’s one she always seems to do.
“Your fighting sucks,” I say.
Her head jerks back. “I fight fine.”
“Sure. If your goal was to throw an elbow to the air while you’re being kidnapped.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
“Because he was distracted and not trying to hurt you,” I tell her.
“God, you’re insufferable.”
I laugh and reach out, flicking her forehead. “Whatever you say, Half-Pint.”
She swats my hand away with a scowl. “Ew. Don’t call me that.”
