Page 54 of Beastly Armory
When I do go back, his broad body fills out a small wooden chair near the front window that leads onto a covered patio. There are a few locals around, but mainly the place is filled with out-of-towners wearing novelty T-shirts or pastel-colored hats purchased from the gift shops along the pier. The chair creaks as I drag it along the stone floor to take a seat, the intoxicating aroma of the large, juicy hamburger in front of me causing my belly to squeeze with hunger. Max is chomping down on his burger with gusto. Two large pints of a blonde ale sweat on the table.
“Figured you like meat,” Max says with his mouth full. He smirks and winks at me.
“I do. Thanks.” After a healthy bite, my taste buds feel impressed with the quality of the local dive before washing it down with the hoppy beer.
“Kind of a strange place for a mob boss, right?” Max wipes his face with a napkin and narrows his eyes out the window, staring off into the water where colorful boats bob with every wave of the wind. This city is like a farce of perfection, and I realize some of the hunger pangs in my stomach must also be from nerves. I’m not used to such a sparkling city.
“Yeah. Makes me more worried about what he wants. And what we’ll be able to offer.”
Turning to me, his piercing gaze alwaysmakes me feel like I’m under a heat lamp. “Your people have no idea?”
Chewing slowly, savoring my tasty food, I shake my head. Swallowing, I say, “No. Only that he’s known as the ‘Nickle Eye.’ I don’t know what that means.”
Max takes a big swig of his pint, a little of the foam settling in the corners of his generous lips, which his tongue gathers as his eyes grow wide. “Fuck. What if we have to collect eyes next?”
I almost choke on a bite. “I really hope not.” Ears were gross, but eyes… That would be too much for me. Shoving the pictures in my mind out of my head, I focus on consuming a French fry.
“I can do it,” Max says. My eyebrows raise in surprise. Lifting a hand from the table, he gives a shrug of nonchalance. “I mean, if wehaveto. Not that I want to.”
Max sits back in his chair, done with his food. He pushes his plate away and rubs his stomach. Finishing his beer, he blinks his long lashes into the setting sun. “This is a really nice place. Not like home.”
Monitoring where he’s looking, I watch some of the children laughing and running along the pier, parents yelling behind them with smiling faces. Kids in Gnarled Pine grow up fast in the skin trade or by numbing their minds with drugs. Many have to go to work for their families at young ages and schools are barren because of it. “No, not like home.”
His espresso eyes dart to mine. “What’s the deal, little fox? Why are you so slippery, huh?”
I take my last bite and look at my near empty plate asif it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Max nods and scans the bar, leaving me to relax out from under his interrogation. “Sure, you don’t. Livia, I don’t get you. We should be together. You’re not a lesbian, right?”
Ugh, he’s so disgusting. “Because I don’t want you that way, you think I’m a lesbian?” I roll my eyes. “Sorry, lion, but I’m just not into you like that.”
The tightness of his black T-shirt stretches as he lets out a soundless snicker. “Riiiight. I don’t fucking buy that for a second.”
“We’re working together, Max. Let’s just keep it that way. You’re a Freidenberg. I’m a Von Dovish.” Plain and simple. Enemies who need each other for the time being. That’s it.
Brushing a hand through his dark waves, his mouth develops a wan grin. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe Nikolai has a daughter.”
My lips involuntarily purse as my belly fills with lead along with the big meal. Picturing Max with someone else makes me rage inside. To hide my face, I wipe it with my napkin and pretend to be distracted by tourists outside the window. Max sits back in his chair and folds his arms behind his head with a sly smirk flickering over his face. He knows he got me with that comment.
Throwing my napkin on the table with aggravation, I ask, “Are you ready to go?”.
“Sure, foxy. But I need to change. Car first, then gas station?” Nodding, I agree with his plan.
When we reach the car, Max gets his suit out of the back. I really need to buy him another. He’s got money now, I know. Maybe he’s just too cheap to buy a new one. After dropping him off at a gas station restroom, he reemerges, looking even more appetizing than my burger.
“Why do you keep wearing that same suit?”
“You don’t like it?” He looks down at his clothes as if they’re new, fluffing the sleeves with a dusting of his large hand.
Flipping my hair behind my shoulder, I try not to stare at his gloriousness. “It’s just the same thing you always wear. I need to take you shopping.”
“It brought me luck whenever I’d fight. Wore it to the press conferences. Never lost.” Showcasing the jacket with jazzy fingers, he says, “It’s my lucky suit.”
I sigh and roll my eyes.
“What? Don’t tell me you don’t believe in luck.” Max reaches over and touches my pocket charm, but before he can get to it, I slap his hand with a loudsmack.
“Don’t,” I warn him.