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"I'm getting dissed way too much lately." "Probably because you date defense attorneys who think a good wardrobe makes up for that lack-of-brains thing." "I turned on my chair. "Oh, you know her?" "No, I've heard half the mean in the twelfth ward to, though" "Hiss," I said. "Meow." She gave me a rueful smile as she lit another cigarette. "Cat's got to have claws to make it a fight. What I hear, all she's got is a nice briefcase, great hair, and tits she's still making monthly payments on." Her smile widened and she crinkled her face at me. "Okay, pooky?" "How's Someone?" I said. Her smile faded and she reached into her bag. "Let's get back to David Wetterau and Karen-" "I hear his name's Trey," I said. "You're dating a guy named Trey, Ange." "How'd you-" "We're detectives, remember? Same way you know I was dating Vanessa." "Vanessa," she said as if her mouth were filled with onions. "Trey," I said. "Shut up." She fumbles with her bag. I drank some Beck's. "You're questioning my street cred and you're sleeping with a guy named Trey." "I don't sleep with him anymore." "Well, I don't sleep with her anymore." "Congratulations." "Back at you." There was a dead silence between us for a minute as Angie pulled several sheets of thermal fax paper from her bag and smoothed them on the bar. I drank some more Beck's, fingered the cardboard coaster, felt a grin fighting to break across my face. I glanced at Angie, The corners of her mouth twitched, too. "Don't look at me," she said. "Why not?" "I'm telling you-" She lost the battle and closed her eyes as the smile broke across her ceeks. Mine followed about a half second later. "I don't know why I'm smiling," Angie said. "Me, either." "Prick." "Bitch." She laughed and turned on her chair, drink in hand. "Miss me?" Like you can't imagine. "Not a bit," I said."
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Dennis Lehane |