“Good save on that, Bertelli,” Warner’s voice fills my ear as I walk along the path, not ready to go back to my condo yet.
“Thanks.” I toss the ball for Stanley. For the hundredth time today. Somehow he still hasn’t lost weight.
“I can’t believe he came right out and admitted to the bartender. Surprised me.”
“Yeah, me too.” More like flabbergasted, actually. Criminals don’t admit to doing jerky things because criminals don’t realize that they’re in the wrong. Hell, almost any other regular guy would consider that a pass, seeing as we barely know each other. And yet Luke came right out with it, those beautiful baby-blue eyes staring at me in earnest.
“What a fucking lie, though, that he didn’t bang that broad.”
“Yeah.” But Luke was telling me the truth. I know it was the truth.
What I can’t believe is that he could read me in the first place. That I walked in prepared to act like nothing was wrong, like I didn’t want to punch him in the face for the not-small twinge of disappointment stirring in my gut. That I couldn’t hide my true feelings. That I even have true feelings.
“You played it up perfectly. Not too upset but just enough.”
Played it up, that’s exactly what I did.
And the massive relief I felt when he said he didn’t screw that whore? Also not real. Not at all.
