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She releases me and slides over to Elijah. “And who’s this handsome creature buried beneath the bangs of a 90s sitcom character?”
I laugh and he rolls his eyes.
“Fine.” He sighs. “I’ll get a haircut.”
“That’s my good boy.” She turns back around to her chair. “And where is Dante?”
Elijah and I pull two chairs free from the small table in the corner.
“He’s traveling,” I answer, keeping it vague.
Our grandparents aren’t aware of our activity in the most dangerous criminal organization in the world — and they hopefully never will — but we still have to account for all the traveling we do. Volunteer work for me. Doctors Without Borders for Elijah. International trade deals for Dante.
“Still?” She shakes her head. “Boy needs to settle down.”
“He’s traveling with his girlfriend,” Elijah adds. “So, he just might be doing that very soon.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Really?”
I nod. “She’s nice. You’d like her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lucy.”
“Lucy, Lucy,” she repeats. “I like that. What does this Lucy do?”
“She’s a dancer.”
“Exotic?”
I chuckle. “Ballet.”
“Oh, that’s okay, then.”
Elijah clears his throat. “Where’s Gramps?”
“Oh, he’s out back playing golf with the guys,” she answers. “But I’m sure he’ll ditch them if he knows you’re here.”
“I’ll go surprise him,” he says, standing up.
“Don’t give the man a heart attack, now. He owes me a back rub.”
“I won’t.” Elijah laughs on his way out.
Grams looks at me with a serious expression lining her wrinkled face. “Now, what’s with the bruise?”
I sit back, wondering for a second what she means, and then I recall the purple shiner above my right eye. Cuts and bruises are such a common thing for me that I don’t even think twice about them anymore.
“Oh…” I brush my hair away to poke at it. “This was nothing. Just a stray punch in my self-defense class.”
“You’re taking self-defense classes?”
“No, I teach one.”
“I was gonna say...” She smirks. “You’ve always had a knack for taking care of yourself. It’s a good talent to pass on.”
I fight that awful churn in my gut. Lying is second nature to me. That doesn’t mean I enjoy it. “Thanks, Grams.”
