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“Well, look at it from my perspective! You’re staying with a rich man in his apartment, you disappeared with no notice for a couple days…” She trails off, probably sensing the rage I’m mentally sending her over the phone connection.
“I amnotwhoring myself out,” I say, emphasizing each word. “We’re doing courier work.” Which is also sort of true. I delivered a corpse burrito to a ravine, and next I’m picking up a package tonight.
“Right. Courier work.” She clears her throat. “Ren, I love you, and I’ve offered a million times—”
“—I don’t want to hear this,” I say, frustrated.
But she doesn’t care. “—if you need money, I can help. Iwantto help.”
“I’m taking care of Grandpop just fine, okay? We’re fine, I have this handled.”
“Right.” She sighs. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“Don’t be.” I glare at my vague reflection in the window. I didn’t call to get a lecture. I just missed her voice and wanted to feel normal for a second.
“Well, are you going to tell me about this boss guy or what?” She sounds like she’s smiling now. “Is he attractive?”
“Very,” I admit. “But he’s also really weird.” I give her as much info about Lanzo as I can without going into specifics. “Once this is finished, I’m coming back home.”
“I’m sure Grandpop misses you already, but you know what he says.”
“I should live my life. Yeah, yeah, I know. Easy for him to say.”
Amy laughs quietly. “He just worries about you. We all do.”
“You don’t have to anymore. Once this job is over, everything’s going to be okay.”
“You sound like something big is about to happen.”
“Something like that.”
Three million big things, actually.
“All right, sure, you can be super vague, but that’s not helping me not worry.”
There’s a noise toward the front of the apartment. A key in the door, the door opening. Lanzo coming home. “Hey, I gotta go.”
“Call me again soon, okay? And text me too. Every ten minutes.”
“I’m fine, Amy. Talk to you soon.”
I hang up as Lanzo comes into the room. He glances at me, goes into the kitchen, pours himself some coffee, before joining me in the living room.
“Already putting your new phone to good use, I see,” he says, lingering nearby.
“Believe it or not, I have people that worry when I don’t reach out for two days.”
“I believe it, but I can’t relate.” He sits down heavily. “You got a text on your other phone this morning.”
Annoyance rankles me as I glare at him. “You’re checking my messages.”
“Of course I am.” He waves me away. Dismissive as always. “It was an address from Burian. I did a quick drive-by of the location. Seems pretty benign.”
Curiosity mellows me out. “Where’s the drop-off location?”
“Right in downtown. A public spot in the park under a specific bench.”
“Huh. Why out in the open? Why not somewhere he can control?”
