Page 42 of Bulletproof

“But it’s fine ’cause I’m gonna go work with Fal at Benchmark, but not for a month, but it was weird tonight, ya know, I think his boyfriend hates me, so I wonder how⁠—”

“Oh my God, talking to you is like—just come with me, and I’ll take you for dessert, and we’ll sit and talk, all right?”

“But I kinda want pie,” I told him. “Can we have pie?”

“Sure,” he sighed. “Just come with me.”

“Okay.” I smiled at him.

He just stared.

“What?”

He looked wrung out.

“I’m tiring, huh?”

Slow shake of his head. “No, not at all. I’m just … c’mon,” he said, arm around my shoulders.

“Who told you where I lived?” I asked him.

“No one.”

“Then how’d you know?”

“I’m rich, Jory.” He nodded, giving me a quick smile. “I have people who find people for me.”

“That’s cool,” I said as we reached the door. “But you could’ve just called, and I would have told you.”

He squinted at me. “I know that, and I should have.”

I shrugged, letting him know it was okay.

His car was downstairs. As soon as we got in, I met the driver, and we shook hands. I asked him where his favorite pie place was and told Alaric—that was his name—where I thought they made the best Key lime pie. When I turned to look over my shoulder at Hayes, he had a bemused expression on his face.

“What?” I asked as I leaned back, slouching down next to him.

“No one ever talks to my driver.”

“Why not? He’s a cool guy.”

“It just would never even cross their minds.”

“Huh.”

“I don’t want pie,” he confessed.

It was weird, but people lied about wanting pie all the time, saying they wanted it when they really didn’t. Only Sam loved it as much as me.

“Okay, whaddya want, then?”

“Let me show you.”

When we reached a bar/restaurant that I knew well, I thanked Alaric for the ride and got out after Hayes. He put a hand on my shoulder and led me to the front door.

“They have good dessert here, Jory, and this way, you can have a drink too.”

I nodded, and he held the door open for me so I could enter first. At the hostess stand, Hayes asked for the manager. I waited with him, not saying anything, just letting everything play out. When the manager arrived, Hayes told him who he was and explained that Carlo, the day manager, and he were very close friends. Jorge, the night manager—the man standing in front of us—didn’t really give a damn.