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“He’s not from around here.” I put the whole meatball into my trap and chewed.
He sat back a bit, one eyebrow cocked. “And you would know this how?” I chewed and remained silent. I knew my rights. “Oh.” The accusatory expression faded to be replaced with a softer yet gleeful one. “You pulled a cop and did a background check on him, didn’t you?”
“No, I just know the area and the people who live here.” The flavors of the rich cream and perfectly seasoned beef hit my tongue fully as I talked around the food in my mouth. It was fucking divine. “Jesus,” I said after swallowing. “This is delicious. Curl your toes like a good orgasm delicious. When did you learn to cook like this? That last meal you made us was ramen noodles and you overcooked them.”
“I remember that night,” he said, sighing wistfully into his wine. After taking a sip to allow me to linger in the memories of those last days together, he jumped from the distant past to the near past. “I learned how to cook during the lockdown. The pandemic had closed down all the studios and networks, so all of us ‘Hollywood types’ were left at loose ends. I took an online course with a chef who I knew rather well and that led to another course and another. I came out of the pandemic with a new love of cooking and ten extra pounds.”
“Only ten? I packed on fifteen.” I forked up some of the rice and then another meatball. God this was good. The only home-cooking that I got was at the diner. I sorely missed my mother.
“I’m sure you took it off quickly, what with being so active and snoopy.”
I stared at him, swallowed, and took a sip of beer. “Fine, I checked out Gaston. There is no trace of anyone in this county or the others that border it with that name. What kind of name is that, anyway?”
“French, I think,” he replied glibly.
“Sure, well, I think this guy is working under an alias. Either that or he flew in from California with the rest of the funny name folks.”
Tony snorted. “Funny name folks.”
“Well, prove me wrong. That guy you were having lunch with is named after a hunk of blue cheese.” I stabbed a meatball with attitude, waving it at him. “I don’t trust him.”
“Who? Roquefort?” He looked innocent, but he was anything but. I knew him far too well.
“No, this mysterious Gaston. Did he come from California with the movie production crew?” I shoved the meatball between my lips, chewing with decisiveness as I tried to pin Tony down with my best lawman dead-eye stare.
“He’s a friend.”
Okay, yeah, he was playing now. “Well, your friend is not to be trusted.”
“Well, to be honest, he’s quite the specimen. You should see him expectorate.”
That drew me up short. “You like this guy because he can spit?”
He broke up. As in lost his shit, laughing so hard he cried and gasped, holding your sides laugh fit. I pretended not to care as I shoveled food into me.
“Oh shit, you are so incredibly adorable. Nothing has changed about you, Stillman. I love it.” He dabbed at his eyes with a napkin that matched the table covering. I was done with my meal now, my plate was licked clean. Not really. I’d not lick it. Though I wanted to, I did have some manners even if I was a redneck cop. I angrily downed my beer. “Phew. Okay, so no I do not like Gaston because he can spit. I was making a reference to the movie.”
I shook my head. “What movie?”
“Beauty and the Beast. The animated Disney movie?” I continued to shake my head. “It’s been turned into a play and a live-action film. No? Wow, okay, well, no wonder that went right over your head. Gaston is a friend of mine who works with the production crew. He’s a best boy and has—”
“He’s your best boy?”
“No,abest boy. Well, now they’re termed ‘best person,’ but he’s the gaffer’s second-in-command. He’s a lovely young man who volunteered to run me home tonight since my PA is back west, resting after his dental procedure. And no, his mother did not name him Gaston. He chose that name when he came to work in the movie industry, just like thousands of other people in the arts choose stage names.”
Ah. Well, okay. “Not all actors change their names. You didn’t. And he’s not an actor, he’s a good boy.”
“Best boy.”
“Whatever. Also, why name himself after a cartoon that spits? None of it adds up. I’m not sure he’s trustworthy. You should let Teddy run you where you need to go.”
“Or I could simply letyoube my chauffeur...”
He left that hanging. Nope, nope, nope. No way. Sitting here staring at him all comfortable and sexy in my home was torture enough. If I had to be at his side all day long, I’d do something stupid.
Like run a background check on an electrician’s assistant?
That falls under the category of doing his job to keep the town of Rockmount safe.
