Page 36 of Duke
Temple stared at me as I led her outside. “Is that...from one of the guys you killed?” she asked as I led her out of the building and away from it as fast as possible without looking obvious.
I nodded. “Yeah. Most expedient way of solving the problem, as I don’t keep clothes at this place either, and we don’t have the time for me to go back up even if I did.” I gestured at the crowed around us, people milling, chatting, checking cell phones to see if there was news on what was going on. The first cruisers were just starting to arrive and were setting up a cordon, but hadn’t started blocking access yet. Cops scrambled out of the cars, weapons drawn, chins dipped to report into radio mics
“What do you do at a long brunch?” I asked, trying to sound casual as we pushed through the crowd of onlookers. .
“Um, well? We drink a lot of mimosas and eat finger food and talk about boys and gossip, basically. Girl stuff.” She was keeping up the charade like a champ, bless the girl.
I laughed. “Oh. And a long brunch is what? An hour?”
Her turn to laugh. “An hour? Hardly. If you’re not still there at, like, three or four, you’re an amateur. We brunch until dinner on a regular.”
I goggled at her. “And you literally just sit around and get wasted and gossip? Like, all day?”
We were away from the bulk of the crowd by now, and had reached an intersection; I turned at random, my main priority now being to just get us away from the scene, ASAP.
She shrugged, sticking close to my side as we rounded the corner. “That’s the point of brunching. It’s a social activity.” She glanced up at me. “Don’t you and your buddies go out drinking?”
I nodded. “Well, yeah.”
“Same thing. We just start out late morning and go all day.”
“Damn, that’s actually kinda hardcore,” I said. “And you’re drinking the whole time?”
She bobbed her head side to side. “Sort of? We start out with mimosas or screw drivers usually, and then once we’ve had lunch we switch to white wine. So, I mean, it’s not like we’re drinking to get black-out drunk. You’re brunching all day, so you have to pace yourself. You can’t be falling down drunk by like two or we won’t invite you back. You have to be able to keep up and hold your liquor.”
“Sounds competitive.” I was keeping her busy so she wouldn’t notice me scanning our surroundings.
“Oh it is. Getting invited to one of my brunches is a big deal. It can make or break your social standing. And if you get drunk and we have to ask you to leave because you’re embarrassing us? Forget it. You’re done. You can kiss your reputation goodbye.”
“Has that ever happened?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah, all the time. It’s like the first couple episodes ofThe Bachelor, there’s always someone who gets obliterated and makes a fool of themselves.”
“The Bachelor?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’ve never seen that?”
I frowned at her. “Do I seem like a guy who watchesThe Bachelor?”
“I guess not. What do you watch?”
“I don’t watch TV,” I said. “Never got into the habit.”
“What do you mean, you never got into the habit? It’s television.”
We’d been walking in a straight line for too long, so we turned the corner. I wasn’t going anywhere specifically yet, more just trying to see if anyone was following us. Once I’d determined that we weren’t being tailed, I’d catch a cab to the airport and try to figure out some way of hooking up with the guys. Times like this, I wished payphones hadn’t gone extinct—it’d make it easier.
“Like I said, I grew up on the streets. Not much opportunity to sit around staring at a TV screen. Gotta run the hustle, you know?”
“Not really, no.”
I let out a soft, irritated breath. I hadn’t meant to let the conversation go back to this topic. “I crashed on a lot of couches when I could, and slept in alleys when I couldn’t. And during the day I was hustling.”
“What does that mean?”
“Dealing, Princess. Slinging dime-bags. Scrapping with rival gangs. That kinda shit.”
“Oh.” Her voice was…small, and tight. Disapproving. Which only pissed me off more, and I was already antsy from talking about this in the first place.