Page 109 of Down Bad

“He’s safe with me,” I growl back, annoyed at the implication in his eyes.

Wyatt holds back a snort and says, “Think I can manage, Cash. Please give Stella my regards.”

The dude stares me down the whole way out of the store.

I stare him down right back.

When he’s gone, I turn to Wyatt. “The whole time I was here, being dodgy as fuck, wouldn’t say who he was or where you were or—” I bring my voice down. “What kind of a delivery takes the whole damned afternoon? Was your client in Hong Kong?”

“What’s this?” he asks, pointing at a container in the fridge.

I come up to the counter. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting here for you?”

“I do not.”

“I’ll let you guess. Hint: over an hour at least.”

His eyes tighten. “Am I supposed to thank you?”

“It’d be a start. And that’s lunch,” I answer him. “Though may as well be dinner by now.”

He pulls the container out of the fridge. A salad. It sits next to a cup of green tea dripping in sweat, ice melted, napkin wrapped around it soaked through. He looks at me. “You got me lunch?”

“Yeah. So?”

He looks at it. Then puts it back in the fridge next to the tea. “That was … thoughtful.”

His voice is weird. Like he’s still somewhere else. Lost in his mind. He shuts the fridge door, then just stares at it for a moment, not saying anything.

I don’t know how to react to it. Is he pissed I got him lunch or something? “Nothing happened.”

He looks at me. “What?”

“While you were gone. Just a few customers. Your kid handled them. Employee. Whoever.” I clear my throat. “Woman named … uh … Lily … or Lila …”

“Delilah.”

“Yeah, Delilah. Stopped by asking for you.”

He nods. “I’ll call her in the morning.”

“Something up with you?”

He looks at me, for a second about to shake his head no. But something stops him. Then he sighs and, after ducking under the counter, says, “I still have a few local deliveries to make, so I—”

“Is it that bag of dicks who was here before? Is that who you just made a delivery to?”

He sighs again. “Diego …”

“Did he say something? That shithead in a golf polo? Did he—”

“He was in a suit today.”

My fingers curl against the counter. “Didn’t know you’re still dealing with that guy. I thought you ditched him. Turned down his contract or … or whatever. You don’t need his stupid business or his condescending prick presence.”

“And I thought you understood that I value my customers.”

“Even the ones who don’t value you?”