Shattered Glass(44)

“So Cai goes to college. What does Peter do?”

“Bus tables until the diner sells.” He shrugged.

“That’s all you want for yourself? No ambitions?”

Something painful flashed over his features, drawing his eyes into a squint. “That’s all there is for me right now.”

“You don’t seem stupid,” I said.

“You think busing tables is stupid?” he challenged, eyes dark with anger. Anger, apathy, hostility and sexual tension, those were the revolving elements of our relationship thus far.

“I think wasting your life busing tables when you’re smart, is stupid.”

“You think I’m stupid, but then I’m too smart to bus tables.” He laughed softly, genuinely smiling. Oh God, that grin. My groin tightened.

“I think you’re smart. At least a smartass.”

“Pots and Kettles, Detective. Pots and kettles.”

My eyes were on the road now, but I dropped my hand to the divider, just to see if he might ditch the bravado and take it. We went about six blocks before he did, gazing out the window as if he didn’t care or notice. He had another case of buyer’s remorse two seconds later and abandoned my hand, tucking his in his lap.

“Anyway, when Cai graduates college or the restaurant sells, I'll try a translating career.” With the way he squinted, I wasn’t certain he meant to tell me that.

My eyes widened, and I turn to him briefly, then back to the road. “You speak another language?”

“I speak six languages.” He was trying to impress me. My mental-victory-dancing self was getting worn out.

I nearly ran us into a telephone pole while fixating on his smirk. “Six?” Sadly, what I was thinking was: ‘Can he say ‘fuck me’ in all of them?’

“Yeah, before—” He stopped. “When I was younger, I was into foreign films. My mother was fascinated with Dr. Zhivago, so I started learning Russian when I was like seven. And then we moved in with Joe, and Cai got into graphic novels and that led to Manga and so forth, so that led to Japanese and Korean. And you can’t live in Colorado without knowing Spanish. When Joe died I was working on my B.A. in Chinese Languages.”

“What the fuck are you doing busing tables?” I said furiously. All that wasted talent just pissed me off.

He studied me for a long while, as if judging what to say. I had to pull over because, frankly, Arturo feared for his life at this point.

“We needed the restaurant income. I won’t die if I don’t graduate, Detective.”

My turn to stare. “I get it. That’s why you agreed to see me. Date the rich cop.” Why should I have been surprised he was using me? He wouldn’t kiss me, he didn’t even particularly like me. I sat back and breathed, angrier than I’d ever been in my whole life—at myself.

“Now who’s stupid? And insecure?” He flicked my ear. “Who didn’t want to go out with who?”

It was disconcerting getting chastised by someone six years your junior. I was not insecure. I was a perfectly normal combination of arrogant and narcissistic. “Flicking me is not your way of saying you’re into S & M, is it?” The eye roll in response was well worth another flick.

He gave me a suspicious glance, probably because I was grinning like an idiot. “What?”

“You like me.”

I received a combination eye roll, lip twitch. “I like your ass.”

“Uh huh.” I grinned my stupid grin the rest of the drive to the theater.





Falling

The movie theater was situated downtown. Of course, I got lost and frustrated. The more I cursed and roamed around, the more Peter hid a smile in his teeth.

“Stop laughing,” I grumbled, wanting to kiss him breathless.

“Don’t cops have to take some sort of test about the streets?” I heard his damn grin while I focused on the road.

“I know the fucking streets,” I said testily. “It’s just the shitty ass street designers built them sideways, probably to confuse the whores and junkies when they ran into a building instead of another street to walk.” Ah, shit. Peter’s eyes lost all trace of warmth. “I didn’t mean…”

“What are you doing with me, Austin?”

Falling for you, I said silently. “I like you,” I sighed taking his hand. He jerked it away. “Dammit, Peter, you’re not a whore.”

“I know that.” He scowled at me. I took his hand again, stubbornly holding on as he tried to pull away. “You trying to make a point to your rich daddy?”

“No.” I gave up on trying to work this maze of streets and pulled into the first lot where I saw a free spot; though it was fairly far from the theater. “Did you look me up?”