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“Well, you would know since every time your mother looked at you, she was reminded that she should have swallowed instead.”
Oz cracks up at that one before picking up his coffee.
“I think I might steal your girl,” Creed teases with a wink at Astrid, who blushes even after the nasty shit she just spit out. The woman is a hilarious contradiction.
“Fuck off and get your own,” Slade snaps at him, then winces when he realizes what he said. He looks at Creed apologetically, but Creed just waves him off.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Creed was married. Both he and Hawk shared a wife before she up and left them without a word. It’s been three years now, and neither of them has heard from her. Some people would assume they were over her by now, but I know better. For a start, there hasn’t been a single woman for either of them since Avery left. I don’t know if that’s because they are still reeling from their loss or if they are hoping she’ll come back. At some point, they’re going to have to make peace with the situation and move on.
“At the risk of making everyone hate me again, what are the odds of me getting my laptop back?” Astrid asks as she fiddles with the cuff of her sleeve.
Zig tilts his head, considering. “Do you need it for something specific? Not being a dick here, we’d just need to make sure it can’t be tracked.”
“That’s fine. I just thought I might do some work.”
Slade zeroes in on that. “I didn’t realize you had a job.”
I wince, realizing how that came out.
“How else am I going to book clients? It really is the safest way for a sex worker to make contact these days.” She takes a sip of her coffee as Slade’s eyebrows reach his hairline before his eyes narrow.
“You’re fucking with me.”
She grins behind her mug. “Am I?”
“Alright, fine. I shouldn’t have assumed. But in my defense, E didn’t mention anything about you having a job. And given what we did find, it’s not like you needed to work, so…” he trails off, looking over at me for help. I keep my mouth shut and watch him struggle.
Luckily, Astrid doesn’t seem offended. “I use an alias. I like to keep my work life and private life separate.”
“We get that, trust me,” Oz agrees.
“So, what do you do?” Slade asks, too curious to shut up.
“You mean other than you?” She smiles widely, making Salem laugh.
“I knew it.”
“You know I have a remedy for smart-mouthed little vixens,” Slade warns her.
“Oh really? Do tell.” Astrid winks at him.
“Well, it involves handcuffs and a bed.”
And just like that, Astrid shuts down. It’s as if a wall slides over her eyes, and I watch as she retreats behind it. I reach out and take her hand—throwing her a lifeline—while making a mental note to revisit the subject later. I have no doubt the others saw it too, but I keep all my focus on Astrid.
“So, tell me about this job that requires a super-secret alias. Oh, I know, I bet you’re a writer.”
I feel Oz tense beside me, but he says nothing.
Astrid shakes her head. “No. Not a writer. I have a vivid imagination but the concentration span of a fish when it comes to putting anything down on paper.”
Oz relaxes making me wonder what he was thinking.
She blows out a breath and looks around. When she sees that she’s still the center of attention, she looks down.
“I design video games.”
“That’s why you were so good before,” Slade exclaims, and Astrid looks up at him.
