Page 11 of Floodgates

“Did you really, or are you screwing with me?”

I had to lie, or he’d be really pissed. He’d wanted me to quit since he found out who I worked with. Ira and I had been friends since a chance meeting four years ago at the gym. When he’d found out about Dimah Mashir, that we were partners, he nearly had a seizure. He, like Alex, never let it go. “It was just noisy.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not being brave, are you?”

“Me?”

He chuckled warmly. “Okay, fine. But I think I should come pick you up anyway.”

Ira was being so nice, worrying more than usual, and that was so… out of character. Why was he…? “Oh hell no,” I flared irritably. “You do not get to use me as an excuse to bail on dinner.”

“What dinner?”

“Fuck you, Ira.”

“Oh? Wait. Is that tonight?” He sounded so innocent.

“Worst. Actor. Ever,” I pronounced. “You know it’s tonight.”

“What?” he said with way too much squeak in his voice. He was looking for any reason not to go. He was like a wolf ready to gnaw off its own foot to get out of seeing his mother.

“I’m fine; you’re the guy taking the shiksa goddess home to his very nice, very kind, but extremely volatile Jewish mother.” I snorted. “Lemme know how it goes. You can stay with me if you need to hide after.”

“You could come,” he said brightly.

“No.”

“But my mother loves you. And you’re hurt,” he said, obviously deep in thought. “She would feel sorry for you and—”

“And if you were engaged to me, she might let you live.” I laughed evilly.

He groaned loudly. “She really does like you.”

“All parents like me; I’m an accountant, for crissakes. I’m the poster child for dependability.”

“Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine, the bullet only grazed me. It’s like a deep scrape, that’s it. You and I both know if I was really dying, I’d be working it to my advantage.”

“True,” he admitted.

“Yeah, see? So it’s fine. Call me later if your mother doesn’t kill you.”

“You’re so funny,” he said sarcastically.

“And by the way, I told Breckin he could come with us on Saturday.”

“What?” His voice started rising. “What did you say?”

“Bye.”

“No, you—”

“Hang up the phone!” came the sharply yelled order.