Page 50 of Thug

He looked at me like I was lying. He took a seat along the glass wall of windows. “Don’t feel like talking, huh?”

“I’m sitting in here trying to drink a cup of fucking coffee in peace,” I insisted. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He laughed. “Maybe some of the fellas don’t realize it, but I do.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He nodded toward the half-eaten box of donuts that was in front of me. “You eat those things for a couple of reasons. When you’re thinking about doing something you don’t want to do, and when you’re pissed off about something that you can’t change.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” I said. “I eat these fuckers all the goddamned time.”

“Maybe your life has spiraled out of control.”

“Maybe you’re an idiot.” I reached for a jelly filled. “Why are you here?”

“Have you talked to Ol’ Girl?”

“Gray?”

“Yep.”

“Not since yesterday morning when I was in there. Why?”

“She didn’t bother coming in. Some of the fellas are in there working, but I don’t really want to let them stay all day without supervision if she’s not there. My work’s done for now.”

“They’ll be fine without you.” I reached for a donut. “She gave you a key?”

“Yeah. We wanted to start earlier than she does.” He nodded toward my desk. “Mind calling her and asking when she’ll be in?”

“What part of I don’t know where my phone is don’t you understand?”

He tossed his phone onto my desk. It slid to a stop beside the donuts. “Use mine.”

“I don’t have her number.”

“You’re telling me she didn’t give you her phone number?”

I took a bite, and then another. “I’m telling you it’s programmed in my phone, and my phone is somewhere that I’m not.”

He leaned over and picked up his phone. While he hovered over the desk, he pointed to the box of donuts. “You mind?”

“Help yourself,” I said in a sarcastic tone.

He took the only maple glazed. “I love these fuckers.”

“Donuts?”

“The ones with this icing. Reminds me of when I was a kid. My mom would buy a dozen of those long skinny fuckers. Half chocolate and half with this shit on them. Me and my brother would fight over them. Both of us wanted these, and neither of us wanted the chocolate.” He shoved half the donut in his mouth in one bite. “Never understood why she didn’t just buy a dozen of these.”

“Maple glazed Long John,” I said. “That’s what it’s called.”

“The long skinny fuckers?”

“No,” I said snidely. “That one you’re holding.”

“See?” He poked the rest of the donut in his mouth. “Something’s bothering you.”

I reached for another donut. “What time did you leave the bar?”