“Scott! Where are you?” Marcus calls from the living room.
“Not home!” I yell back and hiss when the steam burns my hand.
“That’s no way to welcome your houseguest.” He walks in, shedding his coat and tie on my dining table.
“Who said you are welcome?”
“Harsh.” He jabs me in the ribs before reaching in my fridge for a beer. “What’s for dinner?”
“I’m having chicken and vegetables.”
“Any sauce on that chicken?”
“Nope.”
“What about butter on those vegetables?”
“Not a drop.” I take down two plates, knowing he’s not going away.
“Boring, but it’ll do. I’m starved.”
He sits and takes a gulp of his beer, waiting to be served. I set down our plates, get my own beer, and sit across from him. We eat in silence for a minute until he clears his throat and drops his fork on his plate unnecessarily.
“Got something on your mind?” I ask.
“How’s work?”
“Same as always.”
“Is that so?”
“We’ve had six robberies with the same MO, three of them falling on my desk. So, like I said, same as always.”
“Yet you found time to take on a certain vandalism claim.”
“Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with this town? How the hell did you even hear this? There are over a hundred and twenty thousand people in this city.”
“Maybe so, but there’s a buzz around two of those people.”
“I helped her out. It was nothing.” I take my last bite and slide my plate away.
“Nothing. So, it’s a random coincidence Emerson Baker walks into the bar last week and you can’t pull your eyes away, then she shows up at the station to file a complaint, and days later, her issue is resolved. Would that have anything to do with the mysterious calls you took over the weekend?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just curious how someone who steers clear of any type of drama gets involved with the woman who’s known as a wild child?”
“Who said I was involved?”
“Is that how you’re going to play this?”
“Play what?”
“Tell me when you took an interest in vandalism.”
“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“Nope, I want to hear it from you.”