Page 22 of About the Green

“Yeah. Yeah, and causing even more problems for everyone.”

I thought we had turned a new leaf. My head tilts, “No, pretty sure it was helpful.” After all, I was essential in reducing the number of assholes Terrell Jr, was trying to wiggle into Chrome Flame.

“Okay. Well, look, we are gonna just wait here to see if they're gonna meet with anyone else. We're only supposed to be informin’ them of whether or not they're contactin’ someone else besides this group. We already have them as main suspects.”

“Okay, but if we have them as confirmed suspects—”

“No, no. We're gonna do what we've been told, follow directions, and then move on.” He chops each point into the palm of his hand with the other hand.

“Move on, follow directions. Yuck. Do you, like, have an off switch? You seem like you have an off switch. I'd like to know where it is so that I can press it and then hold it in place with duct tape.”

His eyes narrow on me. “I was just thinkin’ the same about your mouth. You ever close that thing?”

“Closing it? Well, that's no fun.” I pop my tongue ring out to work over the edge of my lips, swirl over the edge of my lips. “All the fun's inside. Can't get to the fun if my mouth's closed, can you?”

Though he watched the little metal ball roll over my lips with unparalleled focus, he asserts, “I don't want to get to the fun.”

“Yea, yea. So you say,” making sure to click the ball across my bottom teeth. “Look, I've seen that guy in the club.”

“Which one?”

Squinting a little harder at the man sitting across so far away from us, I try to point him out more obviously. “The one with the blue fucking hat on. Well, what used to be blue. It's so sweaty, it might as well be black now.”

“So you recognize him?”

“Yea, I do. It's not even been a full year since I've been working in the club. I know this man.”

Vert looks at the man I’ve pointed out and then back at me. It’s a good thing these windows are so big. He’s not trying to hide and if he is, that hat was a poor disguise. “He a client of yours?”

“No, not me,” I shake my head. “Liezel, maybe.”

“What's his name?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I don't fucking know. And who knows if men even give us their real names?”

“Okay,” he says curtly, taking another one of those heavy inhales inward, “You think Liezel will remember him?”

Nodding, I confirm, “I do, actually.”

He stares at me expectantly. “So are you gonna do somethin’ about that, or—”

I lean away from him, my back touching the car door. “Me? You can take a picture. Don't you have her number?”

His brows slam down, “No, you don't have her number. Why would I have her number?”

“Because aren't you, like, third in command? Doesn't that make you somewhat high in the rankings? How come you don't have our highest ranks' numbers? Do you even have Racquelle's number?”

Eyes still slitted in agitation, he says, “Yea.”

“So then you should have Liezel's number.”

He pulls his phone out. “Why are we having this conversation?”

“I just don't understand why you want me to do all the work,” I say, pulling my own phone out.

“Do all the work?” he breathes out, followed by a curse and then a frustrated scratch of his head. “What fuckin’ work have you been doin’?”

“I got a ride here—”