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“I just need to talk to Greg.”
Bo stayed quiet.
Patron One: “Yo, Stevie? You hard of hearing?”
Patron Two: “We’re thirsty, Stevie. Man is not a camel, you know.”
“Hold your horses, Darren,” Bo/Stevie yelled out. Then to Myron: “I’ll be right back.”
There was one other person behind the bar, a mussed-hair barmaid in her fifties displaying both taut forearms and ample cleavage. She was down the other end of the bar, pretending she didn’t see Myron to such a degree that Myron knew she was worried. Myron risked another glance at Fireball Roberts. Yep. Stink eye.
“I’m not here to hurt him,” Myron told the bulldog.
The bulldog remained unmoved.
Myron kept his eye on the barmaid. She was staring so hard at a guy in a cowboy hat playing billiards that the guy must have felt it. Still holding the cue stick, Cowboy turned around and looked a question at her. The barmaid looked at Cowboy, then she looked at Myron, then Cowboy looked at Myron, then Cowboy looked at another guy with a beard so long he kept it under control with hair ties, and then both Cowboy and Beard Ties started toward him.
Oh damn.
Cowboy came up and stood behind Myron on his right. Beard Ties took the left. Fireball Roberts turned away as though he wanted no trouble. Bo came back over to Myron and said, “Okay, so what do you want?”
“You want me to talk in front of your friends here?”
The cowboy’s voice was a deep, rich baritone. “I’m more than a friend.”
Myron looked back at him now. “Oh.”
“We don’t have any secrets,” Bo added.
Myron said “Oh” again.
“So what do you want?”
“I told you. I need to talk to Greg. If he wants to stay hidden after that, okay, fine. But I need to make sure he’s all right. Tell Greg it’s Myron. He knows me. I’m his agent. He can tell you I’m a man of my word.”
“Your name is Myron,” Bo said.
“Yes. Myron Bolitar.”
“Myron, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Myron sighed, looked back at Cowboy and Beard Ties, and said, “I know about you and Greg Downing.”
His eyes widened. “Greg Downing?”
“Yes.”
“You’re joking with me. Greg Downing? That’s the Greg you’re talking about?”
“Look, Bo, I saw the messages.”
“Messages?”
“The romantic DMs on your old Instagram account.”
And then Bo did something Myron didn’t expect. He broke out laughing.
“Wait, you think Greg and I…” Bo laughed some more, shook his head. He smiled at Cowboy. “Whoa, man, this guy must have the worst gaydar in the history of the world.”
