We entered a packed bar with nary a seat to be found. Reyes went straight for the kitchen as I hunted down the little señoritas’ room to relieve myself for the ten thousandth time that morning. Either decaf produced more urine than regular coffee, or Beep was already pressing on my bladder.
“It’s hormones,” Cookie said as she came out of the end stall.
“Oh, fancy meeting you here.”
“I came down for lunch, but there are no tables.”
“I noticed. Wait, hormones are making me pee every five minutes?”
“Yep. At first it’s hormones. The third trimester is a different story entirely. There’s nothing like a baby kicking your bladder for the sheer enjoyment of it.”
“Well, that sounds fun.”
“Did you get anything good today?” she asked me.
As we washed our hands, I told her what we didn’t learn and the miniscule bit that we did. “Uncle Bob is getting the phone records from Anna’s work. Hopefully whoever called her is the key to all this.”
“Perfect. I’ll cross-reference them. If there are any names they don’t recognize, I’ll see if Anna’s sister remembers her mentioning them.”
“That’d be great.” We stepped out into the restaurant and were met with the dull roar of conversation.
“I’m getting mine to go, if you want to come up,” Cookie began, then stopped short.
Uncle Bob was sitting at the bar, looking at a menu.
“I might,” I said, watching her drink in my surly uncle. “I lied to Reyes and he busted me. Now might not be the best time.”
“What did you lie about this time?” she asked, keeping her gaze zeroed in on Ubie.
I frowned. “You act like I lie every day.”
“You do. I know because you suck at it.”
“Why does everybody say that? I rock at lying. I could totally be a criminal lawyer.”
She patted my head. It hurt. “What did you lie about?”
We stood waiting by the to-go counter for Cookie’s order. I glanced around to make sure Reyes wasn’t hovering nearby. “I believe the guy who attacked me at the asylum was sent by Bruno Navarra.”
That was enough to get her attention. “The crime boss?”
“The one and only. Remember the three assassins sent for Reyes while he was in the big house?”
“Yes.”
“Bumpy sent them.”
She gaped at me. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No, for reals.”
“Yes, for reals. Zeke Schneider Sr. worked for him there, and Zeke Schneider Jr. was working for him on the outside.”
“So, is Bumpy still in prison?”
“I actually don’t know. I didn’t think to find out. I have to do some research before I tell Reyes.”
“Fine, I’ll find out and let you know.”
“Thanks, Cook! God, I love research. Especially when you do it.”
She turned her attention back to Ubie.
I laughed softly. “I’ll wait here for your food. Go talk to the man. You haven’t seen him in —” I looked at my invisible watch. “— hours.”
She ran her hands over her hair – not sure why, since it stuck out every which way regardless – and did a quick shimmy before heading toward her main squeeze. Uncle Bob’s expression when he saw her was priceless. Those two were so in love, it hurt. Like literally. My head was killing me, and contemplating their love only made it worse. And it was kind of nauseating.
“Can I help you?” Reyes asked, sidling up to the to-go counter like he owned the joint.
“I would like a Reyes Farrow’s famous taco salad.”
“I don’t think Reyes Farrow has a famous salad, taco or otherwise.”
The noise had died down, as it always did when he entered the restaurant. “I bet he can whip something up.”
“He does have a taco salad. I’m just not sure how famous it is.”
“That’ll do.”
He pretended to take out a pad and hold it with his left hand while his right retrieved an invisible pen from behind his ear and wrote down my order. I smiled and propped my elbows on the counter, plopping my chin into my palms to watch him. I felt the longing glances and hoped Reyes could shake them off. He wasn’t really himself today, and I didn’t want anything to rock his boat off center. I figured getting almost ripped apart and then healing overnight took its toll. He was still recovering. He had to be.
He put the pen back, tore a page out of the order book, then passed it to Sammy, who was cooking today.
Sammy’s brows slid together. “You spelled anchovies wrong,” he said.
“No,” I called to him. “Taco salad.”
“Oh, then he’s a worse speller than I thought.” He winked at me, playing along.
Reyes copied me, propping his elbows on the counter and leaning close until his mouth was at my ear. “What are you hiding from me?” he asked, his breath warm against my cheek.
I turned my face into him, inhaled his earthy scent. He always smelled like a lightning storm at dusk, but he also smelled like sandalwood, one of his favorite soaps.
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
“Despite what you may think, I am not keeping secrets from you. I have nothing more to hide.”
“I beg to differ. What’s my name?”
He leaned back for a better look at me. “If I tell you, I’ll lose you.”