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“No, I didn’t miss you, and don’t talk to me like that. It’s unprofessional, not to mention nauseating,” she said between bites, glancing at Grant over the drumstick, as if asking for help here.
“Yes, um, stop referring to my…fiancée with endearments.”
“Fake fiancée,” Alpha replied, nibbling on a piece of lettuce and pointing toward her hand with his fork. “No ring.”
Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as he looked.
“I don’t have a ring because…” She thought for a moment. “Grant’s poor. Lost all his money gambling on a riverboat.”
She gave him a repentant look as if asking him to just go with it. Grant was starting to wonder which of the two across from him was the worst example of law enforcement.
Alpha drank from his amber-colored plastic cup, not picking up what she was laying down. “I know you are not engaged because you secretly harbor deep and undeniable feelings for me.” He laid his fork down and began to count on his fingers, which Grant assumed was a task for the man who was unattractive, had the body mass of a small boy, and dumb as a stump. “Number one, I am tall, dark, and handsome.”
Grant considered showing the man a mirror and a measuring tape.
“Number two, I am working my way up the department ladder. I will be deputy assistant director within the year.”
“Seriously?” Tati scoffed as she attempted to cut her roast beef with the side of her fork. “How do you think you’re going to go from intern to deputy assistant director?”
“Connections. It’s all about who you know.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who’s your sugar daddy or sugar mama at the Bureau? Field Agent Hughes, who claims you had relations with his wife during the office Christmas party?”
“It was Field Agent Moby’s wife, and it wasn’t Christmas, it was New Year’s Eve. A holiday in which indiscriminate kissing is permitted.”
“It was hours before midnight, and he found the two of you doing it doggy-style in the printer room.”
“I can explain. Her husband was inattentive. Borderline abusive. So I paid her some attention. It is not my fault I have a playboy reputation and am known for my prowess in bed.”
“You’re known for being a smarmy jack—”
Grant cleared his throat. “Can we just get on with what we’re here for?”
Tati gave up the ghost on her meat cutting efforts and dropped her fork on her plate. “Yes. By all means.”
To which Morales looked at both of them for an answer. “Which is?”
Tati grabbed a wet-wipe packet, tearing it open with her teeth and spitting out the paper. “I need your help, Morales.”
“Ah, finally, she asks me to come to her aid. Doing what, my little dumpling?”
She sighed heavily as if dreading this next part. “Okay, if I tell you, you have to promise not to blow it out of proportion.”
“I can be humble and self-deprecating.”
“Sure you can.” She began to aggressively wipe each finger. “If there’s one thing you’re good at, and I mean, if I really had to dig deep for something, anything, it would be getting information out of unlikely informants.”
He grinned a mile-wide at the compliment.
“So, what you’re saying is that I’m a crackpot of an interrogator,” he said, buttoning his suit jacket importantly. “I must admit, it is a gift. My father has always said so.”
“What I’m saying is, the very few times I have asked for your help in the past, when I was overloaded and had no other conceivable choice, you came through.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you found me indispensable.”
Tati turned to Grant and threw her hands in the air. “Do you see what I’m working with here?”
Before Grant could answer, Alpha said, “Of course I will bestow my exemplary interrogations skills upon your case, lacking of any substance or solid evidence.”
