“Today? No, not yet.”
“What do you think of him?”
“In what way?”
“As an organizer.”
“He’s all right. Personable. Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’re you fishing for?” Greg questioned.
Do you think he’s a thief? Better yet—has anything in your shop gone missing?
“Because the last time you and I played twenty questions, I was nearly shot,” Greg continued.
“Hey, I warned you not to attend that damn book event,” I countered, as if the whole Duncan Andrews fiasco had happened just last weekend and not nearly six months ago. “It’s not my fault you’ve got cotton where your brain—”
“Seb,” Calvin interrupted.
It physically hurt to swallow my ego in front of Greg. “Forget it,” I told him before slipping under the rope to help Calvin finish.
Greg would not forget it. “Whatever you’re doing, you’d better stop.”
I couldn’t resist. “Whatever I’mdoing?” I echoed, turning to face him.
“This fair is a huge deal for a lot of us. You might think you’re a hotshot who doesn’t need any sort of advertising to remain afloat, but don’t underestimate how quickly success can vanish in this day and age.”
“I paid several grand for this sponsorship table with the wobbly leg, didn’t I?” I replied, shaking the table to make a point.
“If you ruin this event for me, I’ll never forgive you,” Greg said with an almost bullying tone.
“All right, Mr. Thompson,” Calvin said, intervening for a second time. “You’ve made your point. I think you’d better get back to your own collection.”
Greg looked at Calvin, and the malevolence that hung in the air between us slowly dissipated. “Of course, sir. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble with the law over a minor,privatedisagreement.”
Okay. That sonofabitch was implying that Calvin would abuse the power of his badge in order to help me. So now I had to kill him. I started back around the table, but Calvin took my arm and held me still.
“Have a good day, Mr. Thompson,” Calvin said civilly.
“And you, Mr. Winter,” Greg said with a polite gravity that would have caused a lesser man to piss his pants.
Calvin was unfazed.
I shot daggers into the back of Greg’s head until he became too blurry to make out. “You should have let me beat him with my cane.”
Calvin let go of me. “And have to arrest you instead? He’s an asshole, Sebastian. Don’t let him bother you.”
“Iknowhe’s an asshole,” I replied. I bent down to finish pulling the last items from the crates tucked under the table. “I swear he came out of the womb looking for a fight.”
“And you have a tendency to push people like that until they see red.”
“I….” Okay, I couldn’t really argue with that. I stood with a brochure stand, walked it to the ropes, and set it up beside the business cards. “Not because I like to.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Stop making me out to be an asshole too.”
