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“Did you happen to smoke a bunch of weed, too?” Griffin asked, his fingers pressing against the screen of his phone. “I’ve never seen someone high on downers want to eat that much.”
“Excuse me,” I snapped. “I’m not really up on what all the drugs are supposed to do. I just know that I’m starving. And thirsty. Can you grab me a beer?”
“Are your legs broken?” he asked.
“I can’t really feel them,” I admitted. “Come on. Kenny always takes care of me.”
“As he should,” Griffin said, getting to his feet. “He’s your grunt. I am not.”
“So, you just don’t separate it, do you?” I asked, pushing myself up to lean against the headboard. “You’re always on...always playing your role, and there’s no off switch?”
“Pretty much,” Griffin called over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. “It’s too hard to compartmentalize. Best to always act the part than risk exposing myself.”
“But you can expose yourself to me!” I shot back.
“You’re really stoned right now, aren’t you?” He came back, two beers in his hand, and smiled at me as he set them on the nightstand.
“Yes,” I agreed, patting the space next to me on the mattress. “So, do me a favor? Feel sorry for me and come lay down.”
“Do you ever turn it off?” he asked as he settled in next to me.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I guess when I’m here in my shoebox, I do. But you’re right. I’m always surrounded by them. So, I’m always playing my part, too.”
There were a million things I wanted to ask Griffin. He’d been in the cartel for nine years. He’d been playing his part for so long...did he have any lines left that he wouldn’t cross? Had he killed people to protect his cover? Did he regularly pull guys from the GSD into some kind of harem and then dispose of them when he was done?
“Wow,” Griffin whispered, his fingers ghosting lightly over my face causing me to jump in surprise. “Where the hell did you just go?”
A sharp knock on the front door made me jump again. Griffin got up to get it, but I grabbed his arm and shook my head.
“You don’t know who it is,” I reminded him, forcing myself to roll to my feet. “Not a good look if the Prince opens my door.”
It took a little longer than it should have to make it across the tiny apartment, but it felt as if I were slogging through pudding. My limbs felt so damned heavy.
Fortunately, it had just been my food delivery, and they’d left it when I hadn’t answered right away. I picked it up and shut the door again, sliding down the wall to sit right there and rip open the bag.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Griffin asked, walking into the living room and staring at me as I shoved half a taco into my mouth.
“I told you, I’m hungry,” I whined. “Thank you for my food.”
“You’re welcome,” Griffin said, lowering himself to sit next to me and reaching into the bag. “You have to share though.”
We sat on the floor together, eating tacos and sharing a drink. And in my weird, stoned state, I realized that this might be considered a first date. Which made me snort, which made me start choking.
“Are you alright?” Griffin asked, clearly fighting not to laugh as he pounded on my back.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice hoarse as I continued to cough and sputter.
He held the straw to my lips, and I forced myself to take small sips until my throat finally cleared and my eyes stopped watering.
“As if accidentally getting high wasn’t embarrassing enough,” I complained. “God, I’m such a hot mess.”
“You’re fine,” Griffin promised me. “It’s been a long night for you.”
“It’s been a long four years for me,” I countered. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything you want,” he said.
“What if I did want out?”
