I’m not getting together with you. Stop messaging me
As she returned her attention out the window, her gut told her she hadn’t heard the last of Stan.
GREYSTONE
Greystone pulledan iced tea from his fridge, handed the bottle to his cousin. Monroe cracked open the lid, took a long swig.
“How’ve you been?” she asked.
“I’m in trouble,” he replied.
“Who’ve you pissed off now?”
“I got feelings for someone I work with.”
Her deep brown eyes grew large. “Nice. The man of steel is made of flesh and blood after all. Have you told her?”
“Not exactly, but weird shit is flyin’ outta my mouth.”
Monroe laughed. “About time. Would I like her?”
“It’s my handler.”
“From what I know about her, she’s a total baaaaaadass.”
Greystone smiled. “She’s great.”
“Well, don’t fuck it up, bud.” Monroe pulled out her phone. “I got a few pics I need you to see.” She scrolled, then turned her phone toward him. “Who are these men?”
He eyed the photos. “No idea. What’s their story?”
“They’re brothers who run an international sex trafficking ring. They’re proud misogynists who’ve added drug smuggling to their long list of crimes.”
“Whatcha need me to do?” he asked.
“Get word to someone in the area.”
“Why can’t you tell ‘em yourself?”
“Because they think I’m dead,” she replied.
She told him the message, he committed it to memory. Then, she downed the tea and asked about family.
“Lulu’s like a damn ice cube,” Greystone said.
“He’ll thaw,” she replied.
“Teddy’s great.”
She smiled. “He was my fave. He let me dress him up and he’d follow me around. He was like my own walking, talking baby doll.”
They shared a laugh.
“You gonna see him?” Greystone asked.
“Not this trip. I needed to get that message to you, so you could pass it on. I’m out.”
“Where to now?”
