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His lips twitch in disapproval. I’m not playing his game, and that is no fun at all.
“What would you give me if I do?” he asks.
“The satisfaction of knowing you’ve helped your fellow crew members.”
“Mmm, I was thinking of something else.”
I keep my expression neutral. “Such as?”
“A smile.” He rocks back on his heels. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile, Ms. Detective. And, yes, I know you’re here with your husband. I have been warned by several parties. I’m not asking for anything like that. Just a smile from a pretty girl.”
“How old are you?”
His grin sparks. “Old enough.”
“Not old enough to be calling a woman five years your senior a ‘girl.’ Too old, however, to be pulling this bullshit. If you have a tip, then you have two options. You can give it to me freely, and I’ll thank you, and you can leave, happy in the knowledge you did a good deed. Or you can be an asshole, demand a smile, and deliver your tip from the floor, with my boot on your throat.”
One brow rises. “You’re serious?”
“Do you see me smiling yet?”
He shakes his head. “You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet. You aren’t ever going—”
A grunt of surprise. Then a thud, as he hits the floor, flat on his back.
When he tries to scramble up, I press my boot into his throat. “I’m a hundred and twenty pounds dry, thank you very much. Now, as you seem to have selected option B, I’m really hoping you’ll tell me what you know, and I’ll still thank you, and we’ll part on a better understanding of the world—that understanding being that no one likes to be asked to smile.”
I’m ready for him to get pissy. To scowl and swear and then stomp out. Instead, when I take my foot off his throat, he puts out a hand for me to help him up.
I take his hand, braced for him to try throwing me. He only uses it to help himself rise, and then makes an exaggerated show of dusting himself off.
“Yolanda’s a bitch,” he says.
“Excuse me.”
“She’s a bitch,” he says. “I’d say she’s got some angry Black woman thing going on, but then you’d accuse me of being a racist, so I’m not saying it.”
“You just did.”
“She’s a bitch, but I don’t blame her. In this business, she’s going to have a rough ride. The point is that, while acknowledging she’s a bitch, I actually respect her for it, just like I respect you for telling me to stuff my bullshit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious. Well, half serious. I’m never fully serious about anything, which is why Yolanda’s tough-as-nails routine just rolls off me. It’s also why I’m not sulking over some woman half my size throwing me on the floor. That was a dope move.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“All this is to say that I don’t have a grudge against Yolanda. I like her. Hell, I was kinda hoping she’d be impressed enough with my work to take me onto her crew when she leaves. I like her work ethic. I like her style. I like that she hires so many women, and that’s only partly because they make a much more scenic work environment than a bunch of sweaty guys.”
“The point, it is coming…”
He chuckles. “It is. The point being that there are people here who’d love to knock Yolanda down a peg, but I am not one of them. Which makes this tip really awkward.”
“It’s about Yolanda.”
“It is.” He rocks on his heels, hands in his back pockets. “The other night, Penny went into the woods, and everyone thinks she was following Bruno, because we all know Penny wouldn’t go in there on her own. Yolanda and Bruno had just come out of a meeting where they had a bit of a dustup. Bruno must have stalked off into the forest, and Penny must have followed.”
“So Brunodidn’tgo into the forest?”
