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“Do you have a problem you’d like to discuss, Robby?”
“Boss, you’re asking like I can tell you. You said—”
“Forget about what I said. I’m saying now, do you have a problem?”
“EastVegas after last night?”
“Yeah, so?”
“It’s the ghetto! Why are we headed into carjack city after we were in a shootout not even twenty-four hours ago?”
“Listen, here,” I say firmly, brows raised, “we’re headed there ’cause I say so. And, shootout? Who gives a fuck? May I remind you of your vocation? You’re sure as hell no elementary school teacher.”
He grits his teeth. “If we were conducting business, I’d understand. But this is for…it’s for nothing but adate night.” He says it like it’s a dirty word. To him, it is.
But I’m not backing down. I poke him in the chest with my index and pinky fingers. “If you want to go, Rob, go. You can get the fuck out of dodge any moment. Just don’t be surprised if it comes back to bite you in the ass.”
“Boss—”
“What’s going to turn that frown on your ugly mug upside down, huh? Some pussy? Is that the problem? You’ve got a bad case of blue balls and you’re mad at the world?”
By now, I’m speaking so loudly, my voice echoes through the empty parking garage. Falynn and Dominico have stopped outside our town car, staring over at us. I don’t give a fuck, though, because humiliation is the point.
“Is that it, Rob?” I go on in a brash tone. “All you had to do was ask. I’ll take you to the Dollhouse tonight. Buy you a girl with the biggest tits and ass imaginable—”
“That won’t be necessary, Boss.” His forehead shines red as he turns down my offer.
“You sure? Let me know because it’s a stop along the way. Now if you’re done being a jackass, get in your car and provide cover. What’s it going to be?”
Robby moves to the driver’s side of the car, giving me the answer I need. I pat him on the back as I pass him by.
“Good choice.”
Falynn’s pick for hole-in-the-wall home cooking is a restaurant called Sam’s Smokehouse, located in East Vegas, what many refer to as carjack city. It’s at the end of an outdated strip mall between the cash advance place and a tattoo shop. It’s not where you’d usually find me when out for dinner, but she swears the food’s that good.
We’re the only ones dining in except for another couple on the opposite side of the room. Not that there’s more than five tables crammed into the place. The walls are an ugly mustard color with photographs from over the years hung up. The ceiling fans are going, circulating the savory scent of barbecue sauce. At the back end of the restaurant, there’s a kitchen window where plates are passed through, and then a short hall off to the side with three doors. One for the kitchen, another for a unisex bathroom, and the last marked office.
An older woman with dark brown skin and a kind smile brings us menus and introduces herself as Hattie. She knows Falynn by name. Her eyes swivel to me and she says, “And you’ve got a fine man taking you out. I’m scared of you, honey.”
Falynn gives an innocuous shrug. “I told Gio he hasn’t lived ’til he’s had Sam’s hickory-smoked ribs.”
“That’d be correct. They’re good as sin. Worth the five pounds you gain.” She winks before leaving us alone.
I glance over the menu. It’s sticky and has graphics that look straight out of 1995. A single brow hiked, I ask, “Are you sure about this, Falynn?”
“The food isahhh-maaazing. Trust me.”
“Then tell me what to order.” I fold the menu and slide it across the table.
Falynn eyes me with amusement, those chocolate-brown eyes shining. “All right, you need to know the tricks of the trade.”
My brow climbs higher. “I’m intrigued. Go on.”
“The regular smokehouse dry rub is okay, but if you’re looking for flavor, you want to go with the smokehouse deluxe rack. Extra pepper. Mac and cheese on the side. Cornbread too.”
“I’m wearing a six-hundred-dollar shirt. You know that, right?”
She giggles. “Aren’t you always saying you can afford to buy a new one?”
